When Frank Turner opened his set 10 minutes after eight o’clock on the Bell Stage, the fickle rain was still pouring wildly, but the crew removed the plastic sheets from his gear, undeterred.
“Unfortunately, we brought the weather with us from the UK,” he joked.
He enthusiastically threw his guitar on before opening with “Four Simple Words,” an opera-rock-reminiscent song especially appropriate for an outdoor festival, with Turner’s characteristic social commentary and repeated bridge of “I want to dance.”
Turner’s unique fusion of folk and post-hardcore, or punk, as music critics have called it, seemed to surprise some crowdgoers who were clearly at the show for the following set by country group Zac Brown’s Band.
Mostly dressed in plaid shirts and jeans, they patiently nodded their heads as Turner would start with his soft ballad-like song introductions, only for Turner to complete his songs with hurried, electric choruses that would cause them to roll their eyes.
On the other side of the festival at the River Stage, trying to get to the She & Him show early would be a futile attempt. The stage’s standing area had viscous mud that could compete with the Spartan Race, but that didn’t deter hundreds of what I assume were Zooey Deschanel-enthusiasts (not unlike myself and the friends I was with).
Before Deschanel walked on the stage, and before any of her bandmembers appeared on stage, a soft angelic chanting was heard, almost as a precursor to invite what would be the most twee ensemble to hit Ottawa in a long time.
Once the Manic Pixie Dream Girl actress-turned-songstress faced the crowd, her raven hair tinted with a caramel ombré and wearing a red, tribal-patterned backless dress, the crowd roared.
Deschanel and her bandmate took turns crooning tunes like “I Was Made For You,” “I’ve Got Your Number, Son,” “Together,” “Baby,” and “Why Do You Let Me Stay Here,” but they also spared time to cover ’60s love songs that seem to be where Deschanel has her allegiance.
Her spectacular cover of Roy Orbison’s “Unchained Melody,” with the accompanying Chapin Sisters, had couples in the audience holding each other and swaying to the timeless track.
But the pièce de résistance of it all was Deschanel’s cover of “Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me,” most popularly sang by ’60s chanteur Mel Carter. With her charm and the song’s enduring, but implicit carnality, I imagine everyone in the audience felt the same way about Deschanel: either in love, or girl-crushing hard.
