M.I.A. Crashes Her Pop "Plane" on Governor's Island

Last Saturday, I had the true pleasure of attending what was shaping up to be one of the best concerts of the year. Headlined by the truly ingenious rapper M.I.A. and featuring a slew of openers’ whose genres ranged from hip-hop (the delicious Rye Rye) and electro-rock (Sleigh Bells), the festival was, for the most part, a fantastic experience. However, perhaps M.I.A. should next time pick different artists the next time she headlines a festival, as nearly every opener heartily upstaged the supposed main attraction.

The crowds on beautiful Governor’s Island after a short but sweet ferry ride, ready to dance until the wee hours of the morning. Sweeping through security, the audience were greeted by the sounds of the adolescent sounding rappers Ninjasonik on the smaller of two stages (Hard and Harder). “How many times can one hear the lyrics ‘we’re Ninja f*$#ing Sonik, we are Sonik f*$#ing Ninja’ in rapid succession before it starts to get annoying?” I wondered aloud to myself. Then, the DJ turned on a sample from “The Circle of Life” while the rappers on stage wandered around screaming “somebody gonna get pregnant!” I decided to leave Tracy Jordan behind at the Hard Stage and we quickly hustled over to the Harder section.

The awesome Rye Rye and her dancers

The emcee of the ceremony, DJ Destructo, got pulses racing with his ridiculous beats and proved to be a fantastic hype man for Baltimore rap pixie Rye Rye. Expertly blending old school beats with lyrics that sparkled with splashes of pop and bursts of hyperactive energy. The pint-sized seemed carefree and enthusiastic to be performing for such a huge crowd. She liked to talk to the crowd too, asking us questions like “Do ya’ll smoke?” After receiving a huge applause, she responded, “that shit ain’t cool, but I respect your decision! Anyway, I wrote a song about weed so let’s visit the witch doctor!” Backed up by a bunch of insanely talented dancers, Rye Rye captivated the crowd, whipping everyone up in an oh-too-short tornado of dancing. Her set was by far the most exciting of the day, and the crowd was extremely disappointed when she disappeared from the stage after her 40 minute set was over.

Who is this joker? GET OFF THE STAGE!

Next up was the DJ act Skream+Benga. I don’t think I’ll justify this “performance” with a full paragraph. Let me just say this: an hour and twenty minutes of loud noises, unintelligible beats, and a hype-man screaming guttural monkey noises and spitting out nonsense phrases like “disgusting…I lost my marbles!” in a cockney accent does not a good concert make. An awful, waste of time set, the DJs seemed to be irritating the crowd as the minutes slowly and torturously crept by. When the asinine, not-even-a-member of Skream+Benga questioned the crowd “are you still feeling us?” and the crowd responded with a resounding “NO,” the act should have fled for their lives. Alas, they did not, subjecting us to headaches and hot tempers.

Sleigh Bells captivate the crowd

Thankfully, Sleigh Bells was the perfect palate cleanser. As the techies wheeled out amp upon amp, the audience braced itself for a teeth-rattling set, which is exactly what the band went on to do. In their unmercifully short half hour at HARDFEST, the two piece band attacked almost every song on their stellar debut album Treats. Lead singer Alexis Krauss alternated between rapping and wailing in her energetically fresh voice. Sleigh Bells sound like a combination of rap, electro, rock, pop, and metal. The end result is something that is an absolute treat. With ferocious takes on their songs “Crown on the Ground,” “Kids,” and “Infinity Guitar,” the band brought the energy back to the somewhat defeated crowd. They were perfection.

Yo-Landi Vi$$er of Die Antwoord

The highest billed supporting act was next to hit the stage, and the crowd was buzzing with excitement long before the trio emerged. Die Antwoord is an especially polarizing group. An all white, South African rap group, Die Antwoord (which translates to “The Answer”) is either loved or hated for its’ laughably offensive but legitimately fresh lyrics. On stage, they approached their songs in an absolutely serious manner. “Lead” rapper MC Ninja never once cracked a smile during the group’s phenomenally exhilarating set, even when he was spitting rhymes about things that could get people into some serious trouble if uttered in the workplace. The blonde counterpart of MC Ninja, Yo-Landi Vi$$er, followed in the footsteps of fellow mini-rapstress Rye Rye. As she fiercely pounced on her verses on songs like “Rich Bitch” and “Wat Pomp,” the audience seemed stunned into submission, tossing aside any preconceived notions they had of the singer as a jokester. “Oh my god, this girl can RAP!” screamed someone several spots behind me, and the audience definitely agreed. The group’s high point was assuredly when they led the entire, fifteen-thousand strong crowd in a stirring rendition of their “hit” track “Jou Ma Se Poes ‘N Fish Paste Jar” which, roughly translated, means…well I’m not really sure, but it definitely has something to do with dissing any haters’ mothers. It was simultaneously hilarious and filthy and legit. I could have watched them for hours. I understand why people might hate them, but at the same time, those same people look like they’re on the outside of a very exclusive inside joke. Whether they are a novelty act or a legitimate rap group, whether they are here to stay or a one-off fluke, Die Antwoord commanded the audience like no other act at the festival.

A long stretch filled the air between Die Antwoord and M.I.A.’s sets. People began to yawn, sprawl out on the ground, and shift around anxiously on their feet. “We need a paramedic!” screamed a group of girls as one of their similarly attired friends slumped into a heap at their feet, a feeling shared by most of the audience members. Midnight rolled around and a line of women wearing burkas with neon stripes, holding similarly painted screwdrivers, assembled on the stage. “Crap,” I thought to myself “it’s going to be that kind of a performance.” The audience didn’t seem to agree with me and screamed upon the arrival of the woman we had so eagerly been waiting for: M.I.A. pranced out onto the stage playfully, wearing a gold jacket and booty shorts, decked out in a pair of John Lennon-esque glasses. I lightened up and felt adrenaline flowing through my veins, deciding that this was going to be a show to remember. Little did I realize how ironically correct I was. She jumped headfirst into her song “Steppin’ Up,” which I was only vaguely able to identify thanks to the noise of the screwdrivers and the repetition of the lyrics “rub-a-dub dub” by her hype-woman (whose necessity was absolutely beyond me. I wanted someone to pull her off the stage with a hook). It was clear that M.I.A. was experiencing some seriously messed up sound issues; either her microphone wasn’t working or she just didn’t care enough to notice that her backup “band” was completely overpowering her with their metallic tings and clangs. Let me pause by saying this: everyone noticed the problem. People had their hands over their ears, writhing in pain at the sound of whatever the hell was happening. Audience members stared out, confused as to why someone wasn’t fixing the problem, because it went on as M.I.A. segued into “Lovalot,” also off her new, very hotly debated album “/\/\ /\ Y /\ (MAYA).” It was barely identifiable except, once again, the hype-woman kept screaming the words “LOVE A LOT” as loud as she possibly could into what was clearly the only working mike on stage. I thought maybe this was a joke, a big “FU” to Lynn Hirsch, the New York Times journalist who ripped the songstress apart in a widely publicized article. If it was a joke, it was an awful one, and she needed to cut it out. Thankfully, a techie switched her mike several times so we could hear her as she leapt into the only two good songs of the show, “Teqkilla” and “Boyz.” Irritatingly, she took a ten minute break between these songs to shout “we need to feel the beat” while asking us what song we wanted to hear next, as she didn’t have a set list, or even a plan, for the evening. Nobody within a one-mile radius could have mistaken the crowd’s chants for anything other than “PAPER PLANES!” but her imbecile hype-woman decided we had picked “Boyz,” not a poor choice at all, but at the same time, not what we wanted. The skies erupted as M.I.A. lackadaisically puttered her way through the song. At this point, one of my friends had already bailed; as lightning lit up the sky, I turned to my other friend and pointed to the ferries. We ran as the sounds of “Born Free” echoed behind us. Sadly for M.I.A., not many people were around to hear her anthem about how rebellious she is; rather, what she must have seen was a wave of neon crashing through the security gates and she half-heartedly proved to everyone at HARDFEST just how much like every other bratty pop princesses she truly is.