Languid notes burbled out of Adam Granduciel’s guitar, aimless and easy, slowly being soaked up by the open Texas sky. Philly quartet the War on Drugs keeps things untucked, and its Friday afternoon set on the Bud Light stage felt like hazy liberty. Breakout sophomore disc Slave Ambient is over a year old, but in this era, there’s not much else to do but keep touring. Noodling begat grooves, and grooves begat a beatific fever. Songs like “Best Night” and “Come to the City” made you happy, even the usual and ignorant ramblers standing gridlocked in an open field. Granduciel kept us far away from anything anxious, ominous, or frustrating. Who needs melodrama? He bullshitted about the Phillies and drifted into another impeccable feeling. Some stragglers peeled off for the shade. Maybe they couldn’t buy in. It takes a certain attitude to let the War on Drugs be magic, but anyone resisting the warmth is looking for hipness in all the wrong places.
This article appears in October 19 • 2012.