Austin City Limits Festival Day One: Gogol Bordello Gestures Lewdly; Jenny Lewis Emits Cuteness

Photo: Mary Sledd

While the sounds of recently departed summer festivals—and, indeed, recently departed summer—ring in most of our ears, the folks at Austin City Limits Festival shrug off such seasonal limitations. For a lucky few thousand Texans, summer reigns, even in the first week of fall. And in 90-degree heat, it’s pretty easy to forget that summer’s gone.

The first day of ACL fest enjoyed such spoils, as bikinied and be-shorted types traversed Austin’s Zilker Park. Some conscientious souls traveled with bags of cans in tow (not a completely selfless act—there was a free t-shirt on offer for every full bag), while those seeking a cool down could stand in a water-spewing fan, lovingly titled the Sister Mister. Get it?

Of the multitude of acts available on day one, the one most in need of a misting may have been Gogol Bordello. Something suggests, however, that gypsy punks are averse to misting. They’re not averse to perspiration, after all, and there was plenty of that to be had in the intense, mid-day direct sunlight Gogol received for the majority of their set. Front man Eugene Hutz quickly dispatched his rainbow shirt in favor of a bare chest. He and his energetic crew, including his sterner counterpart, black-clad violinist Sergey Ryabtsev, then charged through a set packed with Gogol’s usual finesse: screaming, acrobatics, and scantily clad female band members. Hutz paused between a flurry of songs that included “Sally” and Super Taranta’s “Supertheory of Super Everything” only to give the audience a quick scan, chug wine from the bottle, or offer a series of lovably lewd hand gestures. The latter had an unintended effect--it left the festival’s sign language interpreter momentarily without a job. (Swearing: the true international language.) Gogol Bordello then departed, having made swift and sweaty friends in Texas.

Photo: Brian Birzer

Over—or should I say, under, since we’re talking about a tent—at the WaMu stage, a sizeable crowd gathered to see Jenny Lewis, whose new album Acid Tongue had just debuted three days earlier. Whether those assembled were excited to see Jenny unleash new material or whether they were just attempting a heat escape under the tent is up for debate (probably both), all present got the same effervescent treatment. Lewis made for an irresistibly cute hostess to her own party, offering material from 2006’s Rabbit Fur Coat (“Rise Up With Fists,” “You Are What You Love”) and pronouncing how “psyched” she is about new songs (“Acid Tongue,” “Carpetbaggers”). She even managed a non-silly, acoustic cover of “Love Hurts,” while simultaneously courting a new fan in Bill Murray, in Austin to shoot a film and singing along from the side of the stage. That her band introduced their leading lady as “the one you came here to see” may have only been true for some when they arrived at the shady WaMu tent, but by the time Jenny Lewis bounded off stage, it was true for all. -- KAITLIN FONTANA