Bonnaroo 2017 Kicks Off Bright and Cool With The Lemon Twigs, Innanet James and More

The first thing on The Spin’s mind as Bonnaroo 2017 began was just how nice the weather was — moderate temperatures always put us in a more festive mood than stifling heat. But once we ventured out of camp and started to get into the familiar rhythm of watching bands and hustling to another stage to watch more bands, that quickly gave way to the thrill of discovery (there are a lot of artists we don't know well on this year's bill) and the satisfaction of catching some favorites in action.

When we rolled up to This Tent to watch up-and-coming Nashville country singer Luke Combs’ set just after 4 p.m. (just one set shy of being the festival opener, which was Asheville, N.C.'s Raising Caine), we felt like we’d been having a pretty good weekend already. However, we noticed a dude a few rows away who was clearly miles ahead of us, as he teetered, toppled and passed out a few songs in. (He came to after a few seconds and walked away with a little help from a Bonnaroo staffer.) Combs’ brand of country has a clear commercial bent — meaning that it sounds a bit like classic rock with a twang and most of the songs touch on classic themes like love, loss, frustration and drinking — but he’s a strong writer and a top-shelf performer. His chart-topping single “Hurricane” is a dramatic post-breakup ballad that’s neither smug nor saccharine, and the crowd sang it louder than he did. Sure, Combs may be a more natural fit at CMA Fest (where he’ll play Saturday and Sunday), but never underestimate a Bonnaroo audience when it comes to having a good time.

Arkansas native (and apparent recent Nashville transplant) Jeh-Sea Wells and his project Welles are relative newcomers without a whole lot of material or experience under their collective belt. But Wells' Cobain-esque drawl, Pixies-worshiping riffs, vaguely Britpoppy melodies, squalling solos and on-the-nose, earnest songs — with titles like, for instance, "Rock and Roll") — went over well as a Day 1 rock appetizer at That Tent. A cover of Father John Misty's "Hollywood Forever Cemetery Sings" wasn't what we were expecting mid-set, but truth be told, we liked its grungy delivery more than that of the original, and Welles' tune "17" sounded a lot like "Creep." So, sure, we're game for ’90s worship.

A quick Spotify spin was enough to convince us we’d probably like Toronto’s July Talk, but it didn’t really prepare us for their set. The foursome makes bottom-heavy blown-out blues-rock, which is fine — it reminds us a bit of Get Behind Me Satan-era White Stripes. What really sold us was the interaction between co-bandleaders Leah Fay and Peter Dreimanis, whose antics — incorporating a little modern dance, some physical comedy and more than a little sexual energy — was something we might expect to see on Broadway (New York City, not Nashville) instead of at This Tent. It’s the kind of thing that could be a hard sell to a club audience who isn’t already familiar with their work, but it was perfect for a festival setting where getting surprised is part of the adventure. Speaking of familiarity with their work, the loud cheers and several Canadian flags waving in the audience (including one with a picture of the band drawn on it, which Fay picked up on one of her excursions to the rail) were a clear sign that there’s a lot of love for the band back home.

With Bonnaroo's nearby Ferris wheel backlit by the setting sun, snotty Chicago punks The Orwells stomped onto the That Tent stage, frontman Mario Cuomo (yes, that's really his name) sporting a pair of shorteralls that left little to the imagination. "You dig my romp-bro?" Cuomo asked a couple songs in. "Hottest shit in fashion right now." Cross one off our bingo card. After swapping out a spotty mic for a more reliable cordless one, he lurched around the stage with an indignant ferocity he might have picked up from watching old Stooges clips. Melodically speaking, the guitarists do most of The Orwells' heavy lifting, thumping through sturdy, Strokes-y rock arrangements while Cuomo supplies the fireworks. The band's biggest tune, “Who Needs You,” was more than enough to get the kids pogoing and crowd surfing, even if it wasn't our favorite performance of the song (that honor goes to Paul Shaffer and the CBS orchestra, by the way). "Thanks for the stage upgrade, Mr. Bonnaroo," said Cuomo toward set's end, no doubt referencing the band's 2014 set at the smaller OnTap Lounge, where they were cut off early after some stage-diving and -climbing gone awry.

The delightfully youthful Lemon Twigs hit That Tent's stage just before 10 p.m. with the baroque-poppy Beatles worship of "Prove to You," bopping and bouncing along to their own three-part harmonies. They played a new tune, "Why Didn't You Say That," a teaser from a forthcoming EP that showed off co-frontmen (and brothers) Brian and Michael D'Addario's innate talent — we hesitate to say "virtuosity," but for fuck's sake, the kids (all of them around age 20 and younger) are better at music as teenagers than most of us will ever be at anything. "The only thing I did this well at 17 is masturbate," we told a friend mid-set. "Let's be honest," he responded. "You probably weren't this good." Their exuberance and energy, infectious and raw, was refreshing. How often, after all, do you see a festival set from a quartet of high-kicking, instrument-swapping wunderkinds who know how to write torch ballads and pop songs that sound like Badfinger, Emitt Rhodes and Harry Nilsson?

We’d been wondering about the transformation of The Other Tent into The Other, where a good portion of this year’s dance music and hip-hop are scheduled to happen. All that had changed was that the big roof was removed and a strip of turf between the production booth and the photo pit was cordoned off, leaving a miniature version of the second-from-top-tier Which Stage. But strolling over the crest of the hill to see golden beams of light ricocheting off of the disco ball at center stage and a sea of bodies surging to the last notes of feel-good electronic funk from GoldFish felt like we were walking into some sort of extraterrestrial rave.

We were at The Other to see the following act, D.C.-area rapper Innanet James, who’s enjoyed a remarkably quick rise to prominence — he first attracted attention when his remarkable track “Black” went viral in 2015. Though James told us this was his first festival appearance ever, you wouldn’t have known it from the way the fresh-faced MC worked the crowd, bouncing around and hopping the barricade to crowdsurf as he delivered his smart and athletic verses. James only performed for about 25 minutes by our clock — hopefully he’ll have more material ready after his next release, Keep It Clean, which he teased with a couple of tracks — but if leaving wanting more is a good thing, then his set turned out just right.

The impossibly tight funk of Turkuaz at That Tent offered some rock-solid witching-hour showmanship. All sequins and high-energy, color-coordinated grooves, Brooklyn's self-described "powerfunk" outfit offered a welcome dose of good, smiley vibes in the wake of the brutal Predators defeat we'd just witnessed over on the Which Stage screens. Did any of the band's melodies get stuck in our heads? No. It wasn't the earworm-y, Parliament-style strand of infectious, sultry funk we're most fond of. But it was certainly spirit-boosting and enthusiastic.

When we slipped out for a bathroom break, we suddenly found ourselves headphone-less at the Silent Disco for DJs Rate and Case Bloom from Nashville's own Boom Bap DJ squad — if you've never watched a silent disco crowd minus the sound … well, let's just say we recommend it.

When Herobust introduced himself at the top of his set, he solved one mystery for us: The correct pronunciation of his moniker is “hero bust.” But the show made it plain that “he robust” would not be a misnomer. The Atlanta DJ fired off a glitchy synth line we thought that sounded like an interplanetary modem dialing up Venus — but the trajectory was not up but down, into deep, ground-shaking bass. Intercut with samples of Ludacris’ “Move Bitch” and The White Stripes’ “Seven Nation Army,” he delivered track after track with Dirty South-flavored beats, whipping the glow stick-toting crowd into a frenzy.

Despite a somewhat thin late-night crowd at This Tent, 20-year-old L.A. alt rapper Kevin Abstract hit the stage like a headliner, shouting "Can I get a yeehaw!" and dipping into call-and-response bangers that everyone present seemed to know by heart. He has a Vince Staples-like flow, and as much as we dug it, our energy was fully tapped about three songs in.

See our slideshow for more photos.

In The Spin — the Scene's live review column — staffers and freelance contributors review concerts under a collective byline.