It’s the second day of Outside Lands, and by God, has the cavalry arrived. Whereas yesterday, the crowd for the first show I caught, Pretty Lights, didn’t even stretch to the control/camera tent, today, standing in the same spot, there wasn’t a break in the crowd across the entire Polo Field. No grass to be seen, just a sea of trendily dressed young men and women, with the occasional grungy punk kid thrown in for good measure; all the burnt-out hippies from yesterday gone after catching Furthur. It seems that as far as single day tickets go, Sunday took home the big money, which, considering the much improved line-up was no surprise.

Beginning with such indie favorites as The Soft Pack, and Mayer Hawthorne, who we here at Inyourspeakers have had the good fortune of talking with in the past, and of course the talented, and tangibly cheerful Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes. Despite the heavy thoroughfare, the morning proved as solid musically as the afternoon and the night, which boasted Al Green, Phoenix, and Kings of Leon as headliners, all of whose fame justified the sometimes overpowering, roar of the crowd.

The vibe of the festival was different today, as the downsizing of Outside Lands from last year noticeably made an impact on the event. Food lines were constantly 15-20 minutes long; bathroom distribution, always critically important,was poor which was poor, a definite bother to say the least; and the crowds so good for business required serious navigational prowess to trudge through. The festival was set up as best it could be, the food was great, and the staff was vigilant, but all of that couldn’t conquer the limited space. I’m not saying it wasn’t enjoyable as hell, in fact, I can’t recall off the top of my head a more solid line-up of artists in a festival that I was more excited about than today’s nor can I even conceive of a festival that will ever boast better and more varied food than Outside Lands. It’s a damn good festival, but it had its tics, as they all do.

The first set I caught was Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeroes, and in the words of Alex Ebert, aka Edward Sharpe “Holy roly, me, oh my,” what a show! Everything I said about Eugene Hutz yesterday goes just the same, if not more so, for Ebert. From the moment he strode, slim and smiling, onto the stage, arms spread open wide, big hair mussed by the wind, he was magnetic. He laughed and sang and appeared to have the time of his life on stage, sharing an intimate, joyous moment with the band , while simultaneously drawing the entire audience into his narrations of love and summer and all other happy things. He is, in a phrase, a brilliant performer. So, when doing what he does best, in tandem with the fifteen-odd musicians in his band, as well as his ever-lovely counterpoint, Jade Castrinos, the effect is like drinking Christmas morning concentrate. The musichappy and relaxed and personal and exciting, was perfectly suited to that sunny field in beautiful Golden Gate Park, serving as a perfect jumping-off point for the rest of the day, putting everyone who saw the set into a saintly good mood, and setting the bar high for the day to come.

Al Green rose to the challenge withthe set I had both been arguably most excited for and most impressed with. From the moment the Green stepped out onto the main Polo Fields stage, something set him apart. Perhaps it was his miraculous parting of the grey clouds as he took the stage, letting the subsequent splash of sunshine light up the entire field. Perhaps it was his gifting of roses to audience members while singing in his gorgeous, polished showman’s voice, and hitting octaves choirboys can only dream of. Perhaps it was even the tight, tight ensemble and back-up singers that perfectly complemented Al’s singing. Perhaps it was even just the good reverend himself, classy and suave and happy as can be. Perhaps it was all of that, but whatever the reason, seeing Al Green perform was one of the greatest hours of my life, and really put other sets into perspective. There’s always something to be said for the up-and-comers, the scrappy new kid and the independent brilliance, hell, I’m here to write for a magazine that focuses on them, but after seeing a truly veteran entertainer like Al Green take the stage, I can’t help but wonder why we ever turned away from music like his as a culture. Al Green pondered none of that nonsense on stage, however, as he danced and sang and ran an airtight show that had everyone moving and twisting and shaking in musical ecstasy, and raising a bar for musical chops that might not ever be overcome.

After Al Green, I went to go get some grub, which, thanks to the handy food stalls in the press area, was a faster trip than for most then walked back over to the stage, settled in with some new concert friends, and got ready to watch Phoenix. When they actually came on however, I was taken by surprise. Looking the other way, I was conversing with a friend when the two piano keys that begin “Liztomania” slammed out over the audience, and got my attention immediately.

Phoenix was everything you expect them to be. They were right on the nose with their instrumentals, Thomas Mars’ voice never sounded more wistful, and their pop treasure boxes got their well-constructed hooks into me before I even had the chance to escape, as if I would. From all over the audience, which was perhaps the biggest of the day, I could hear chorused lyrics being shouted above the speakers, and could see people dancing with no regard to dignity, as Phoenix entered and possessed them. It was a perfect example of why indie-pop works.

Social Distortion, punk legends that they are, were an entirely different beast altogether. Angsty, energetic and confrontational, it was a standard punk show. As Mike Ness yelled into the microphone on stage, and fans slammed into each other, throwin’ blows and bleeding, the not-so angry majority of Outside Lands attendees passed ,, mostly high, puzzled over the energy of the show and headed towards Nas & Damian Marley. Meanwhile, I took my glasses off and dived into the leather jacket clad turbulence of Social D fans, yelling in unison with one of the most devoted fanbases (Deadheads aside) you’ll ever encounter.

The last show of the night was Kings of Leon, the headliners of the festival, and shit, did it rock. Beginning with such favorites as “Bucket” and “Sex On Fire”, Caleb’s husky tenor, combined with the excellent camera work on stage, and Matthew’s energetic guitar playing, with only seven words of direction, “if you know the words, sing along,” got the whole crowd singing back at them. Many a bright-eyed teenager present no doubt began to aspire to the same rock stardom as these brothers and cousin, all in their twenties, who could captivate a crowd of 60,000 or more, while playing and yelling and having fun. The highlight of the show was far and away their cover of the famous Pixies track, “Where is My Mind?”, which, when it dropped, elicited a mass yell of joy and surprise that nearly drowned out the huge electric guitar before getting the rapt attention of every person in the audience, some screaming the lyrics, some watching, mouths open, all in love with the music.

They continued at that high energy level until the very end, finishing with the one-two punch of “Use Somebody” and “Molly’s Chambers”, putting a fitting capstone on a magnificent musical weekend. The showended with flames and sparks and fanfare. Neither I, nor any of my friends with whom I saw the show, could have asked for anything more, leaving me with the distinct impression that Outside Lands, despite the downsizing, and minor technical problems, was a roiling success.