Andrew Veeder on August 24th, 2015

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Featuring: Morrissey, FKA Twigs, D’Angelo & the Vanguard, Death Grips, HEALTH, Battles, DJ Harvey, Spiritualized, Lower Dens

2015 will go down in FYF Fest lore as the year the festival finally got everything right, and really came into its own. In terms of accessibility and diversity, this is now the best festival Los Angeles has to offer. Congrats, team, the bar is set rather high for 2016. (Cough cough — Radiohead?)

||| Photos by Zane Roessell

||| Also: Sunday, Part II, by Molly Bergen; Saturday, Part I and Part II

Here is a diary of an epic Day 2:

3:20 p.m. — Two “I Heart” signs are wedged in the “Caution” tape wrapped around a small tree, and feature dick drawings. Ah, the youth.

3:24 p.m. — Security guard humor, regarding the black bandana tied around my neck: “Sir, there’s no gang clothing allowed.” “Use that one again!” I replied.

3:40 p.m. — In the craft beer garden, there’s 32 options and an abundance of shade. I’ve never heard Tobias Jesso Jr.‘s music before, but it’s nice and sublime.

3:44 p.m. — Oh no! My annotated and highlighted page of set times falls over the barricade divider. When I ask the nearby security minion if I can jump over to grab it, he tells me I need permission from the ID Check booth. Since that’s 30 feet away, a stranger holds my legs as I dangle over and grab it before we cheers beers.

3:49 p.m. — Security guards grumble about the hacky sack volley in progress, clearly bemused. Tobias Jesso Jr. is great, but it’s like chamomile tea in the mid-afternoon. I need something stronger. Moments later, security guards move to confiscate the hacky sack.

3:57 p.m. — It’s very respectful that the General Store carries both condoms and blunt wraps.

4:07 p.m. — Fog wafts out of the Arena’s outer floor-level doors, and as you enter, the smoke and fluorescent accents remind me of a laser tag venue. Further inside, Lower Dens are in it to win it, playing rock that’s darker and moodier than expected. No objections. Lower Dens closes with “Brains” as the older crowd of sleeve tattoos and greying hair starts migrating in for Spiritualized.

4:34 p.m. — The AC is on, the fog machines are in overdrive, and Lower Dens are striking their own equipment, with lead singer Jana Hunter wrapping her own cables. Blue light fills the arena’s floor with rotating disco ball sparkle, mostly empty with seated, peppered patrons.

4:59 p.m. — The floor has filled in, and behind me, a couple stands with their young daughter, clad in big noise reduction ear muffs. I ask how old she is. “Eighteen months,” he replies. “You’re doing it right,” I tell him.

5:01 p.m. — Spiritualized take the stage. And there are three female back-up singers. Awesome. Everything is better with female back-up singers. The light tech is probably having fun deploying the onslaught of lights at this show, bombarding the fog cloud mass shrouding the band. Rippling waves can be seen on the screen behind them, but you can barely see the players.

5:32 p.m. — The screen now looks like you’re floating through space composed of paint splotches instead of stars, and the crowd’s lighters are starting to go up. This is a masterclass in shoegaze glory, largely culled from 1995’s “Pure Phase” and 2003’s “Amazing Grace.” I’ve forgotten about the rest of the festival outside, and the world. This is so good.

5:59 p.m. — Spiritualized, you’re supposed to only have one more minute, but now you’re changing guitars, so the crowd is pumped it might get one more song. And they do, in the form of “Come Together,” from their 1997 classic “Ladies and Gentlemen We Are Floating in Space.”

6:03 p.m. — Jack Sparrow passes by, leaving the bathroom.

6:16 p.m. — DJ Harvey is curating a glorious sunset disco-house dance party, with shimmering colorful streams overhead. I’m 10 feet from the front, no one is standing still, and the speakers are pumping your blood for you. There are certain moves I do at music festivals that are actually just moving my body in a way so as to stretch something out, in an attempt to dance the pain away. The “lean forward, hip pop” is an effective movement to ease lower back discomfort.

6:37 p.m. — Okay, Battles, let’s get weird with it. That’s the tallest cymbal I’ve ever seen. Why is the cymbal 8 feet off the stage? Also, the metallic sheen of your bass drum is reflecting the blinding sun’s glare back on the crowd. While I can’t see you, I’m into this new material. And then they play “Ice Cream.” Man, ice cream sounds good.

7:05 p.m. — Has anyone else noticed that the Fries truck between the Lawn and Trees stages is like The Do LaB at Coachella? There’s been EDM and a handful of randoms dancing the entire weekend.

7:34 p.m. — Andrew Wyatt from Miike Snow joins Flume onstage to begin with their track “Some Minds.” The main stage pavement smells like blunts. “Sleepless” is up next, and the sun has dipped below the horizon. Sounds about right.

8:01 p.m. — Oh man, HEALTH deserve the night time slot they’ve been given this year because they are just killing it. After opening with “Crimewave” and “Stonefist,” they launch into “Men Today” from their new album “Death Magic,” and it felt like they’ve truly ascended into another level. During “Die Slow,” John shimmies with his hair twirl, and Jupiter bangs around with a big gold chain on his neck.

8:10 p.m. — I get a text message that apparently Lorde just came out to sing with Flume. HEALTH are playing “New Coke.” I’m in the right spot. After a brief technical difficulty, they rebound for “Goth Star” and “Courtship II.” Good to have you back, guys.

8:25 p.m. — I’m late for Solange … Wait, no I’m not, she hasn’t gone on yet.

8:30 p.m. — After a lengthy battle with sound issues, Solange is finally on stage, and performing a song called “Some Things Never Seem to F*cking Work.” The hair game of this band is strong. Devonté Hynes come out to play guitar on her cover of his track “Bad Girls,” and it’s so great.

9:07 p.m. — I have arrived back at the Trees, and can confirm that Death Grips actually exists, they showed up to play today, and are currently performing “Come Up and Get Me” in chaotic red light as the crowd seems to be eating it up. Cool, back to Solange on the double.

9:16 p.m. — Moses Sumney and KING came out with Dev Hayes to sing “Young, Black And Gifted” while I was gone? Damnit! She closes with “Losing You,” and the dance party resumes.

9:40 p.m. — Look, feet, I know you have blisters and you’re tired, but we’re 15 feet away from stage and D’Angelo is starting soon, so suck it up.

9:55 p.m. — D’Angelo & The Vanguard! They kick it off with “Ain’t That Easy,” “Vanguard Theme,” and “Betray My Heart,” complete with little choreographed hand gestures. The whole weekend — or, the whole summer — had been building to this set, and it absolutely did not disappoint.

10:21 p.m. — D’Angelo’s changed costumes, and now they’re starting “Really Love.” It is so smooth, you can’t help but grin ear to ear. He then dedicates “The Charade” to “the fallen victims of police brutality,” and the crowd puts their fists in the air.

10:49 p.m. — D’Angelo’s changed costumes again, and they close with the one-two punch of “Brown Sugar” and “Sugah Daddy,” jamming it out with multiple start-stop codas that keeps the packed lawn on its toes. This show alone was worth the price of the festival admission, and felt like another masterclass in musicianship. Having Jesse Johnson on guitar and Pino Palladino on bass speaks to the all-star quality of D’Angelo’s band, and while it was only half the material and half the time of June’s Club Nokia show, it was everything.

11:14 p.m. — I run into Molly en route back to the main stage. “I’m going to Morrissey!” I say. “I’m going home,” she replies. Man, that sounds good too.

11:27 p.m. — OK. This is exactly what I thought a Morrissey show would be like. Unbridled adulation. A fan jumping onstage. Moz taking time out to urge people not to vote for Donald Trump. Videos of police brutality during 2006’s “Ganglord.” “Istanbul” and a couple others from his new album “World Peace Is None of Your Business.” More unbridled adulation.

11:29 p.m. — This Red Bull doesn’t feel like it’s working. I got no wings.

11:37 p.m. — The Fries truck is still going HAM. Two girls are dancing like there’s in the middle of Electric Daisy Carnival, but they’re off a thoroughfare in Exposition Park.

11:46 p.m. — FKA Twigs is performing “Video Girl” in a red and gold kimono. I emphasize performing, as she hasn’t stopped moving since I arrived, the entire number choreographed with a plethora of back-up dancers waiting in the wings.

11:51 p.m. — She is singing “Pendulum,” and it is terribly impressive, especially as her four-piece band is playing the fractured production live. This was the perfect time slot for her at this festival. She’s owning it. Then the beat drops for “Numbers,” and I can’t feel my feet anymore. FKA Twigs struts around the stage like a diva ballerina. A male back-up dancer joins her on stage as they intertwine. She flips around and lands on top of him, straddling him to the ground as she almost growl-sings the chorus again, “Was I just a number to you?”

12:16 a.m. — Six back-up dancers join her on stage and it feels like a sultry ballet. This set is the greatest performance of the festival, and again the Lawn caps off the night with my sleeper favorite act of the day.

12:21 a.m. — The random drone hovering above and gliding around the crowd is unsettling.

12:23 a.m. — FKA Twigs begins cooing “Two Weeks,” and I feel my feet again. Time to bounce.

12:28 a.m. — Two other questions loom. Which of the three dozen bacon-wrapped hot dog vendors should I purchase from? And, would Morrissey approve of all the bootleg T-shirts with his pompadoured mug on them for sale as I walk up Vermont? The answer is the same for each: It doesn’t matter.