by Gavin Heaney

BeachLife has been a first for many things, but this year they hosted something historical without even knowing it. Has anyone ever before combined the frontman feats of James Brown with the guitar god game of Jimi Hendrix? 

It happened Friday night on a side stage, where a small, tight crowd witnessed something they will never unsee.

While 99% of the sold-out first night attendance thronged the big stages, The Schizophonics were busy making rock n’ roll history in the corner on The Riptide stage. Frontman maniac Pat Beers threw himself on and off the stage, singing and swinging his guitar full tilt — jumping jacks mid-air into the splits, one hand on the mic stand, the other one-hand soloing his Strat, hammering as hard as Hendrix and hitting you in the feels with “Steely Eyed Lady.” 

Beers is a rock n’ roll soul man — singing, dancing, clapping, spinning and splitting like James Brown — leading the crowd in call and response and throwing his mic stand to within inches of  your face, only to skillfully kick it back into his hand at the last second. The stage could hardly hold him as he continuously jumped into the crowd with 50-foot mic and guitar cables that he wrangled like snakes and lassos. At one point he climbed a table, folded himself under a beach umbrella, then leaped to the concrete where he kneeled, arching and windmilling, possessed by punk rock prowess. The crowd parted and peered with phones while Beers cried out for them to dance with him. “Remember, this is a rock show,” he incited. 

His devotion to the freak out was so ritualistic, so sacrificial, that it felt sacrilegious to join in. Most watching could not wake themselves from pure astonishment anyway, standing completely and utterly entranced.

The San Diego band is deeply invested in the roots of their rock — which in part happen to come from Redondo Beach.

“You have a hometown hero in Redondo,” drummer Lety Beers announced. “Give it up for Dez Cadena from Black Flag!” After being welcomed to the stage, tore into Link Wray’s iconic “Rumble” before burning into a punked up cover of “Are You Ready” by Grand Funk Railroad. 

Something new, something borrowed

Something new was in the water this year at BeachLife. There were festival feathers and furs, a slightly more stylish scene, and way more young people. Teenagers in cowboy boots fresh from Coachella and Stagecoach arrived as willing company to their parent’s pageantry. The festival has cultivated its own culture. More and more the beach freaks are letting it fly. 

There’s a case to be made that songwriting was perfected in the ‘80s  — the formula baked in the ‘50, deconstructed in the ‘60s, rebuilt through the ‘70s, and then the package was perfected and mass produced in the ‘80s. Perhaps a little too perfectly. No band represents this more distinctly than Duran Duran. With just the right mix of cool and content, the band should be studied by any gen-Z act seeking purchase in today’s vibe-driven music market. 

“‘Ello Redondo,” ever-chic singer Simon Le Bon began. “It’s good to be at your beach. It feels niiiiiiice!” The stage exploded in art deco visuals — sharp edges swirling, stabbing neon spikes that were future-primitive and tech-tribal. Still sporting razor-cut, feathered hair, the retro new wave giants branded BeachLife with their Brit bangers: “Hungry Like the Wolf,” “Ordinary World,” “The Reflex,” “Girls on Film,” and “Rio,” which had everyone singing at the top of their lungs. They covered ELO’s “Evil Woman” and Talking Heads’ “Psycho Killer,” and bravely performed new material — which was hard to swallow in place of classics like “Save a Prayer.” But Duran Duran deserve to be more than a tribute to themselves. Under any other circumstances, their new songs could easily be hits. It’s hard to outdo yourself, but that’s a good problem to have.

Saturday brought another ‘80s icon navigating the weight of her own legacy. Joan Jett and the Blackhearts arrived on the afternoon sand all nails and no apology, marching to the beat of her own black heart. Her hard glitter rock poured out like liquid night from a black leather jacket studded with silver sequins. She opened with The Runaways’ “Cherry Bomb,” and peppered the set with the cover songs that made her want to rock in the first place — The Arrows’ “I Love Rock n’ Roll,” “Everyday People” by Sly and the Family Stone, and Tommy James’ “Crimson and Clover.” 

“Androgynous” by The Replacements was a charming detour, pepped up with a bouncy rock beat that felt fun and quirky — pretty colorful for a Black Heart. Jett approached the close with her own anthem “I Hate Myself for Loving You,” while every phone in the Low Tide arena was raised, before ending on fist pumper “Bad Reputation” — a love letter to every label that rejected her after The Runaways. Where Duran Duran wrestled whimsically with their own legacy, Jett simply ignored hers and played like it was 1980. There’s a lesson in there somewhere.

Sunday night slipped into the psychedelic with My Morning Jacket’s evening set. Jim James’ nasal voice broke free from all earthly connections and soared wordlessly out over the sea, conjuring the nameless with a celestial cry while the band’s heavy, mountainous music moved with the brutal glacial power of something slow and inconceivable. But just when things got heavy, they’d go “Off the Record” and sprinkle in light, bouncy indie-reggae bubbles that popped as they climbed and twisted into the night like embers from a sacred fire. While they covered George Harrison’s “Give Me Love” a child nearby made an angel in the sand. Their song “Golden” may be their best, shining with pedal steel and the deep pull of Americana:

“And you always told me / No matter how long it holds me / If it falls apart or makes us millionaires / You’ll be right here forever / We’ll go through this thing together / And on heaven’s golden shore we’ll lay our heads.”

The band came alive when they traveled into cosmic country and southern rock, aligning harmonic guitar solos like The Allman Brothers and hard hitting blues like the Black Crowes. There’s also a Dead-like jam band bubbling under the surface — especially at the end of “Mahgeetah,” when the honky-tonk piano rolls their rock up into a fat one. They blew the night wide open with epic finale “Dancefloors,” which ends precisely where a Phish show begins. Those who ate chocolates are now likely new or reconfirmed disciples of My Morning Jacket.

James Taylor closed out the festival, pairing his warm, wooden guitar tunes with an all-star band that was more like an orchestra. His breezy island-style songs like “Mexico” — festive with horns, harmonies and the tropical tap of congas — couldn’t be more BeachLife, and had the sleepy, satiated Sunday beach lifers swaying under the illuminated pastel palms that line the High Tide Stage. His songs were smooth sailing after an intense Sunday morning, when the festival entrance was delayed due to a bomb threat. 

Taylor is no stranger to stormy seas. He spoke candidly about how his struggle with addiction shaped many of his songs. He puts the easy in listening — but it comes from the hardest place, the pinnacle of his pain, as evident in “Fire and Rain.” His prayer to Jesus has never felt religious, only like the deepest, most desperate plea of someone who has come to the end of their own power:

“Won’t you look down upon me, Jesus? / You’ve got to help me make a stand / You’ve just got to see me through another day / My body’s aching and my time is at hand / And I won’t make it any other way.”

Taylor wasn’t always so serious. He graciously introduced his numerous band members including Chad Wackerman on drums. He  joked that the “No Kings” movement ought to make an exception for Carole King before singing her “Up on the Roof.” He also revealed he was once drug buddies with neighbor and comedian John Belushi. Though their friendship ended tragically it served as a wake-up call for his own opioid addiction, a story he embedded in the second verse of his 1985 song “That’s Why I’m Here.”

James Taylor is a plain old songwriter — no frills, letting his craft speak for itself. He sang out the weekend wistfully with “Sweet Baby James,” one more sweet song that asks for no more drama and longs only for serenity and shelter from the storm. Like a ship coming into the harbor after a long crossing, slowing to make no wake — bringing the BeachLife Festival safely to shore.