Oh, what can you say about a band like Spoon?

Oh, what can you say about a band like Spoon? You can say that the Austin, Texas group has been a brilliant mainstay of indie-rock—nah, let’s just say rock—for 30 years. You can say that the group has never released a bad album. You can say that there are some big albums, sure—2005’s Gimme Fiction is a big one, 2007’s Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga is another—but even the most recent records are fantastic.

You can say that Spoon is a band that is easy to take for granted. You can say that you’ve never taken Spoon for granted, though it’s been a minute since you’ve seen the group live. You can say that you corrected this Friday night by seeing Spoon on the Generac Power Stage at Summerfest.

Oh, what can you say about Spoon’s Summerfest set? You can say that it began with a one-two-three punch of “Wild,” “The Hardest Cut” (both from 2022’s Lucifer On The Sofa), and “I Turn My Camera On” (from Gimme Fiction). You can say that big songs like “The Underdog” and “You Got Yr. Cherry Bomb” (both from Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga) made appearances. You can say that there was an encore and that it ended with “Black Like Me” (also from Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga). You can say that you were hoping for gems like “Sister Jack,” “Do I Have To Talk You Into It,” and “The Beast And Dragon, Adored,” but what can you do?

You can say that the show lasted for 90 minutes or so (cue the Actually Guy who will inform us it was more like 82 minutes) and that it was lightly raining for a good chunk of the night. You can say that was pretty lovely.

Oh, what can you say about frontman Britt Daniel? You can say that he sounded terrific. You can say that he seemed genuinely pleased to be playing Milwaukee. You can say that you think you saw an Instagram photo of Daniel and Mark Waldoch at Thursday’s Brewers game. You can say that you have vague memories of being at a loft party with Daniel a million years ago where everyone was playing Apples To Apples for some reason. Was that 2008? Earlier? Jesus.

You can say that the only bit of Daniel’s between-song chatter you jotted down was something about how the next song was for “all the weird kids up front.” You can say that you can’t remember which song that was for.

Oh, what can you say about Summerfest in general? You can say that you missed out on the second weekend due to family matters but that you were glad to be back on Friday. You can say that you bumped into dozens upon dozens of people and cooked up dozens upon dozens of ridiculous ideas that will never actually happen, but hey, who knows? (Three words, Jordan: The People’s Platter.) You can say that you rode the SkyGlider and that you enjoyed the Wave Chapelle and NilexNile set and that you danced to random DJs and that your friends’ children are now taller than their parents and that everything is moving much too quickly but nights like Friday night manage to freeze things in place, if only for 90 minutes or so. Or 82, according to the Actually Guy.

You can say that the whole “Oh, what can you say” thing you’ve been doing here is inspired by the closing paragraph of John Cheever’s 1951 short story “Goodbye, My Brother,” of all things. (“Oh, what can you do with a man like that?”) You can say that this random idea came to you as you were walking out of Summerfest at 11:30 p.m. You can say that the festival grounds were packed, especially where Flo Rida was playing. You can say that you were glad to see it. You can say that in the spirit of the closing lines of “Goodbye, My Brother,” this is how you’re ending this piece:

The sea of people at Summerfest that night was iridescent and bright. The people of Milwaukee were swimming, and I saw their Summerfest cap-clad heads, black and gold in the darkness. I saw them come out of the festival grounds and I saw that they were happy, unshy, beautiful, and full of Miller High Life, and I watched the happy people of Milwaukee walk out of Henry Maier Festival Park.

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