AREA 2: Invasion of the Alien Ant Farm

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AREA 2: Invasion of the Alien Ant Farm

By David Lee Wilson

Moby

Eclecticism would seem to be the operational word indescribing the goings on during the Detroit stop of Moby's AREA 2 FESTIVAL. Not only could one see Moby run amok for an hour and a half in his arena sized disco, but you got David Bowie going old, new and obscure, Busta Rhymes
alternatively scaring the hell out of you and making you laugh, the Blue Man Group creating their own singular spectacle, all topped-off with a day's worth of ecstasy infused dancing in the DJ tent. A full day, to be sure, but worth every penny of the surprisingly not so outrageous ticket prices.

For those who bothered to show up for the earliest part of the day there was ample entertainment surrounding the "DJ Tent." Herein you could find the hottest DJ's on the scene letting the smoke billow from their fingers as they spun, scratched and mixed up a party fit for any fine Friday night, only here it was scarcely past noon and on a Tuesday at that. This was also the place to find some damned impressive new group's, most strikingly The Avalanches, who are otherwise out to promote their new disc, "Since I Left You." Ash were to appear, but graduated to the main stage, which was proper to prep the world for their brilliant "Free all Angels," disc. Seeing Ash and The Avalanches was like looking into the promising future of Alt-Rock and never wanting to blink.

As for the DJ talent you had the return of Carl Cox, which was easily the

height of excitement for the mass who tried to stuff themselves into an

already full tent.  Cox spins with such precision and power that all the

ecstasy being passed about was hardly needed, as this guy is his own self

contained trip.  Smoke and lights on par with anything happening on the

main stage, this was definitely the place to be either until Bowie and Moby

appeared, or between sets by the Blue Man Group and Busta Rhymes.

The evening of main stage entertainment was something beyond even

Hollywood's contrivance, with a sonic mix that cris-crossed from Emo to Hip

Hop to Classic Rock, Techno and then back again to sounds difficult to

describe or compare.  Everybody's everything in terms of sound and still

not an errant tone for the breadth of the night.

Tonight the emphasis seemed to be as much on the visual as on the auditory,

and THE BLUE MAN GROUP epitomized this aspect better than anyone.  This

bunch of blue headed baldies mixed their percussive prowess on every

imaginable form, shape and gauge of PVC piping, with backing tracks that

were at times near Heavy Metal and at others Classical to form a sound that

no one save the cast from Stomp has yet approached.  The group generally

recreated the arrangements from their debut CD, but it seems doubtful that

many in the audience have the disc, as every twist and dip in the set

seemed to be met with genuine surprise or more often, amazement.  For a

festival that already seemed to be planned and launched from the cosmos

this was easily the most far out attraction to be visited upon the DTE

stage this day.

Busta Rhymes

Busta Rhymes, I mean, what can you say about Busta?  He truly is the

all-American Alien entity as well as the current King of trip-Hop.  At

times his rhymes were mouthed word for word and everyone danced as if cast

specifically to do so, and then in the very next minute the dreadlocked

wonder just seemed to completely baffle everyone with what escaped his

mouth and body.  Some phenomena are best enjoyed sans explanation and Busta

is squarely in that category, so satisfaction with his set wasn't a

surprising end point.

The true headliner of the Area 2 tour was obviously David Bowie whose

latest disc, "Heathen," got full exposure.  The pavilion saw its capacity

most challenged here with Bowie mixing a set of golden oldies and ultra-new

"Heathen" tracks.  Bowie was in top form, with a band that rivaled any

previously assembled by The Thin White Duke.  Earl Slick is a six-string

god whose chording could release bolts of fire from the sky itself had

Slick wanted it.  The rest of the band seemed equally as capable to inflict

damage but what they opted for was to groove seamlessly from track to track

recreating a modern day "Greatest Hits" for the former Mr. David Jones.

Audience favorites and critically exemplary tunes don't often run in sync with each other, but for this performance the best played numbers were also the most widely lauded. "Afraid of Americans," "Fashion," "Lets Dance," and "China Girl" seemed to be particularly rapturous to the slightly less than full house while "Low," "Heroes" and Ziggy Stardust" brought the whole proceeding a post orgasmic glow that was probably visible from any satellite in orbit.

Bowie appeared to be having as good a time as anyone in the audience and kept a running joke that involved Iggy Pop going for most of the set, though I am not sure many in the audience were in on it. No matter, every one was smiles and handclaps, which is proper respect for a Rock legend of Bowie's stature. In return Bowie had enough respect for himself and the audience to keep both his music and himself in top fighting shape rather than living on old currency, as most of his contemporaries tend. A perfect performance of a perfect repertoire.

David Bowie

The night ended with the hyperactive beyond belief Moby running from one

end of the stage to the other picking up instruments along the way and then

setting them down so that he could sing.  Guitars, drums, keyboards,

turntables, they all got a workout and each was added to the overall mix

with astounding precision.  A bottle of Ritalin wouldn't be enough to slow

this guy and so it was for better than an hour.  If one could be distracted

from Moby even for a second, they were immediately caught up in the most

expansive light show since the glory days of Kiss, only in this instance it

was more like the re-creation of the world's biggest rave rather than a

glimpse at the gates of hell.

For as much action as Moby was intent on laying out to the now full house,

his posse of backup musicians were far from the indignity of going

unnoticed.  The string trio, (one cellist and two violinists each model

beautiful), for instance provided the most ethereal tones this side of

Enya.  Then there was the bassist, another tall beauty, who was so rolled

in funk that it was her groove that carried everyone out the door humming

after the music stopped.  They were simply and undeniably a phenomenal

group of musicians and the perfect compliments to Moby's music.

Aside from the minimal loss of cash for the price of admission to this

extravaganza, the proceedings also took every ounce of energy a fan could

possibly give.  For those who actually did manage to go the distance from

the opening drum beats in the DJ tent through Busta, Blue Man and Bowie to

Moby's show closing guitar chords, this was, without a doubt, the event of

the summer.

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