The Crazy, Rainy Day for Night Scene — and Nine Inch Nails’ Epic Show: Downpours Can’t Scare Off 20,000 Music Fest Fanatics

The second day of Day For Night was right on, and determined music fans were rained on. No amount of spray or downright downpour could deter the diehard fans. The day started out gray and mild, but gave way to thunder around 8 pm. Festival-goers were given fair warning with a Twitter announcement around 4 pm, but not that many fled.

There was plenty inside to occupy those who came without rain gear. The upstairs portion of the massive structure was home to a lit-up labyrinth of art installations. Digital designs and light shows dotted the curving series of wide-open spaces. The blue stage, home to smaller acts, and the yellow stage, a DJ station encircled by eight screens, were undercover in doors.

Those who weren’t saying Gimme Shelter braved the weather, enjoying relative temperatures and humidity at the green and red stages, until it started raining cats and dogs. Thousands stuck it out to the end, rocking out to major headliner Nine Inch Nails.

Day For Night brought out a broad array of performers, and a broad array of genres. PaperCity shares highlights on four musical acts, giving those who couldn’t go a taste of the performances. We’ve rounded up an indie/electronic/so much more band, a feminist punk rock ensemble, an deephouse DJ, and major draw, alt rock-gods Nine Inch Nails.

of Montreal

of Montreal wasn’t the first band to perform on Saturday. It wasn’t even the first band to perform on the red stage on Saturday. But its performance really felt like the induction. Kevin Barnes and the rest of the band never give less than 110 percent. They never punt. They kicked Saturday off true to form.

Chalk it up to the experimental band’s shock factor. The first surprise: the experimental act hails from Athens, Georgia, not Quebec. Their music keeps you on your toes, with influences ranging from indie pop to glam rock, progressive rock to funk, and electronic dance to ’60s psychedelic pop. They’ve got a little something they’d call “soul power.”

Music fans were just starting to filter in around 1:30, roughly 20 minutes before the band came on. But within five minutes of their opener, the floor was packed.

of Montreal always draws an eclectic mix of fans. You had your bros, your furry legwarmer-wearing hipsters, and that guy in the space suit and jeweled crown that defied all designation.

Barnes put them all to shame, decked out in a sky-high blond wig, plaid skirt, drapey blue cardigan, neon blue thigh highs and glittery red pumps that outdid even Dorothy’s.

He’s known for his elaborate wardrobe as much as his performance art. of Montreal is known to paint their bodies red and rise from coffins on stage.

This time around, to the background of tunes like “Bunny Ain’t Got No Rider,” a Chinese dragon prowled the stage, given life by doughy men in full-on gold bodysuits. The screens on either side of the stage showed the dragon up close and personal, revealing the man’s bearded chin beneath the papier mache head.

The giant screen at the back of the stage played a mesmerizing, disorienting video made of mashed up images like action figures and disembodied eyes swirling on vibrant colors. One song was accompanied entirely by flashes of different kinds of plaid. The digital show played throughout the entire show, never once cycling through.

The performance’s centerpiece was definitely the epic The Past is a Grotesque Animal. Both loyal groupies and casual listeners can recognize the sweeping 12-minute song, characterized by Georgie Fruit, Barnes’ alter ego.

The band set the beat before then-Barnes sauntered off the stage. The crowd was getting amped up, antsy for the classic song to start. Georgie Fruit stepped out about five minutes later in a red speedo covered by a sheer red caftan.

“I’ve explored you with the detachment of an analyst/But most nights, we’ve radied the same kingdoms/And none of our secrets are physical/None of our secrets are physical/None of our secrets are physical now,” Fruit crooned.

The last refrain’s emphasis on physicality was underscored by the emergence of several men in neutral bodysuits. They stripped them off almost ceremoniously to reveal another bodysuit beneath. Red at first glance. Upon further inspection — printed with anatomical accuracy in the vein of Body World.

They dove out onto the crowd, carried by hands, no physical secrets anymore.

Pussy Riot  

Nadya Tolokonnikova returned the day after her passionate talk from Friday’s summit. She stormed the stage with her Russian punk rock protest group Pussy Riot. She took the center in polka-dot pajama pants and a knotted white tee.

Behind her, three other members were decked out in the same sleepwear, with a twist. Their tank tops bore “Russian Federation” across the chest, and they stood apart with black warrior paint spread across their eyes and their pink punk wigs.

Pussy Riot brought that combative edge to their performance. They were almost militant in their political critiques, but they brought an upbeat energy and even positive, tongue-in-cheek lyrics. The singers voiced their aggression equally as poignantly in their mother tongue and English.

There was no question of their political affiliation, both in regards to their native Russia and the Home of the Brave. Vladimir Putin and Donald Trump are enemies No. 1 and No. 2, respectively.

Their songs were nothing short of rousing. Very few members of the crowd actually knew the lyrics, even in English. But there was a clear appeal to that fierceness.

Police State was written in English. It starts off with the invasive “Big smile for the camera/It’s always on/It’s all in the protocol/They tapped my phone” and soon breaks out into the cheery, ironic chorus “Oh my god, I’m so happy I could die/Oh my god, I’m so happy I could cry.”

It’s no coincidence the song and corresponding video were initially released on the anniversary of the Russian Revolution and 2016 presidential election.

“Make America Great Again” was on the nose. The music video was full of not-so-subtle jabs, like a sequence of people with non-American passports having their hands branded with “Outsider” instead of their passports stamped.

The feminist collective even performed the very song that got them incarcerated, called Virgin Mary, Put Putin Away.

From the energy in the crowd, it didn’t seem like anyone’s beliefs contradicted theirs. Or at least, no beliefs were strong enough that they could overshadow the music.

Cashmere Cat

Cashmere Cat’s performance can best be summed up as the set of a thousand snapchats. Phones across the crowd recorded the Norwegian DJ, sending clips of flashing pink lights and pounding music. It was an easier feat for some festival-goers than others. Tall dudes sporting patterned 80s windbreakers held up their Samsungs nonchalantly over the bobbing heads of the crowd.

Petite girls decked out in their best rave regalia — butterfly wings, bedazzled steampunk goggles, jackets that were all at once light-up, and furry, and sequined — jumped up again and again to get a video. They fought to angle their phones above strangers’ shoulders. They settled on snapping panoramas of the dancing crowd.

Cashmere Cat had opened his set wordlessly. He’d ambled onto the stage in his hoodie and lifted one hand to wave. And then he turned to the tables.

His aesthetic was chill, and his music was electric. He kept the crowd’s energy up, but his own was contained. He mouthed the words to every song and kept his focus on the tables.

Collectively, the crowd swayed. Individually, we all danced differently. There’s no standard when it comes to electronic music, except for the moment the bass drops. That whole-body move is pretty universal. Cashmere Cat’s “track 9 (After Coachella)” really puts anyone’s sense of rhythm to the test. It only came out in April, but it’s already among his most popular.

The tropical house vibe is strong in that one. Marimbas are featured heavily from start to finish. The crowd freaked out when it came on, and it’s hard to describe the mass of bodies swerving and shifting. The song was extended seamlessly from its typical four minutes and 33 seconds. And while someone on the fringes of the pulsing crowd hurled glowstick after glowstick into the air, the lyrics “I like the way your body moving/I like the way you spread confusion” never made more sense.

Nine Inch Nails

It was about 8:30. A sea of ponchos stretched from the red stage all the way back to the food trucks. Fur jackets, bunny-shaped backpacks, Santa hats that had seen better days, and neon cat ears strained against the thin clear or green plastic. It would have been a hot mess if it weren’t so cold out. We were all a little bit worse for wear, but we agreed one on thing: It ain’t over til it’s over.

Twitter was the first to rain on our parade. Around 4 pm, Day For Night organizers posted that after monitoring the weather carefully, they’d decided to shuffle the schedule and shut down all outdoor music after 10 pm.

No one wanted to believe it. The skies had been gray all day without a single drop of rain. But a quick weather app search showed it was an abandon-all-hope-ye-who-stay-outside situation. The chance of rain was 90 percent starting at 8, and only getting worse from there.

Most of the estimated 20,000 music fans stood their ground. It started raining a little bit after 8 pm. Some fans went inside, either crowding the first floor for warmth or heading upstairs to take in the art installations while the storm passed outside.

Meanwhile, those out in the storm — we’ll call them The Bold and The Bedraggled — got as close to the red stage as possible. The whole day had built up to Nine Inch Nails. Call it ’90s nostalgia or early-2000s steadfastness, but no one was going anywhere.

The rock band wasn’t going to let a little rain stop them. In fact, it could add to the show. Headbanging in the rain is pretty rock-and-roll. Just don’t go singin’ in the rain. That’s not so hardcore.

A countdown was projected on each screen flanking the side of the stage. From 20 minutes on down, the crowd was feeling pretty good. We were jammed in elbow to elbow, but it was well worth it. On stage, sound guys were checking out the equipment, which felt like a good sign.

When the screens went blank at a little over the five-minute-mark, some cheered and others cursed. To some, this signaled that the band was getting on early. To the less naïve, that meant things were slipping behind schedule.

These two factions coexisted well, for the most part. But around 8:40, things got a little heated in the middle. A woman wearing an oversized blue poncho and smoking a joint threw her head back and screamed “Let the Heavens rain down!” “No!” a man shouted somewhere nearby. “Yeah, don’t be mean,” a second added, shivering in his sopping wet jean jacket.

A few minutes later, the lights on the empty stage turned green. Fog rolled in, and not a gentle This is Thriller fog. The manufactured smoke filled up the entire stage and floated out over the front of the crowd. First, cheers.Then, nothing. Silence hung in the air. Frustration hung in the air. Fog hung in the air.

It was a few minutes before we realized that it was not an announcement that Nine Inch Nails was taking the stage, but a stall tactic.

The frustration was short-lived. Within 10 minutes, Trent Reznor stalked out in a leather jacket. Next, the guitarist, the drummer.

Nine Inch Nails launched into “Branches/Bones.” Reznor screamed the chorus at the top of his lungs. A NIN signature — an extremely raw, emotionally charged display of apathy. “Feels like I’ve been here before/Yeah I don’t know anymore/And I don’t care anymore” ramping up to “Yes, I have been here before/Yeah, I don’t care anymore/Don’t give a —- anymore.”

The performance style was a complete departure from the red stage’s earlier performances. There were no elaborate projections, no dramatic costume changes, no eye-popping /eyebrow-raising choreography. Nine Inch Nails was front and center, no frills. The only design element was the fog, which filled the stage from start to finish.

The camera swept from band member to band member, filling the screen with one at a time. Reznor gripping the mic, rain dripping down his forehead. Robin Finck’s eyeliner smearing as he played the guitar.

For those of us watching Nine Inch Nails for the first time, it’s impossible to say if the alternative rock band’s shows are always that cathartic. But being pelted by rain, surrounded by people belting Closer, was intense. Arms outstretched, Reznor howled “You bring me closer to God.”

The spell was broken a few songs later. The images on screen were more striking than ever, but the performance on stage had never looked so, well… staged. On screen, Reznor’s face was illuminated, everything behind him dark. On stage, this was achieved by having a man follow him around, crouching and holding a spotlight up to his face as he sang.

It was about that time that the cold rain went from cleansing to sobering. Up front, the energy didn’t die down. But people began splitting off at the back, heading downtown, walking into sheets of rain.

It was time to settle down. Had to save some energy for Sunday.