Chicago is mainly known by its nickname,”The Windy City,” but slowly it has made steps to be known as “The Festival City.” Or is “Fest Town” a better brand? That’s something for the city’s commerce department to figure out, but since the surprising decision for Lollapalooza to set up permanent base there in 2005 and the introduction of the Pitchfork Music Festival the following year, Chicago has slowly became a power player in the festival game. If you’re a music fan, at some point you’re going to have Chicago on your itinerary. The same year that Lollapalooza dropped anchor, Riot Fest first emerged. Initially a fest focused on clubs, in 2012 it moved to Humboldt Park and became Riot Fest & Carnival. But the carnival aspect is just a sideshow, all puns intended. The main focus will always be the music.

The most striking aspect about Riot Fest is the eclectic line up. While not particularly unique in the fest world, considering the size and the roots of Riot Fest, it seems more like the random shuffle of someone’s iPod. It seems less like a carefully curated presentation to the world and more like a “sure, why not?” While Coachella and Lollapalooza are physically large enough to seemingly envelop everything, Riot Fest just feels smaller so the seeming aberrations feel larger. But a good time is a good time and so far Riot Fest has delivered.

In order to properly get in the mindset of a festival, one must accept the things you cannot change and embrace that you can’t do it all. So sorry to the first half of Riot Fest. Stiff upper lip Stiff Little Fingers, sorry I missed all of ALL, and from the sight of all the stained faces, Gwar is continuing quite nicely after the death of their leader. My Riot Fest began with a failure to see the majority of Failure. But the song and a half seemed to indicate that the reunion is coming along nicely. Or not. What do three minutes tell you? So instead, my Riot Fest proper began with NOFX (pictured right). The latest trend is for a band to perform the entirety of an album in their catalog, and Riot Fest has tapped into that trend with NOFX performing their breakthrough record, 1994’s Punk In Drublic. Even the most casual fan would have to imagine that NOFX would bring a certain type of, er, irreverence to the proceedings and they didn’t disappoint. First Fat Mike trash-talked Failure, who played before them on a neighboring stage, as well as The Offspring, who were playing later, and Riot Fest in general. He then declared that, yes, they would be playing Punk In Drublic , but not in the album order because that that would be boring. What followed was a set that was part half stand-up routine and part loosey goosey onstage rehearsal. Whether it was schtick or reality, there was a question of whether they could actually make it through the record. As a result, the set ping-ponged between barely holding on and playing as tight as a pair of skinny jeans. The difference was even more obvious when after they concluded the Punk In Drublic set with a rowdy rendition of “Don’t Call Me White” and launched into other songs from their catalog. While the Punk In Drublic set was punctuated with stops and starts, once it was out of the way, they blazed through songs back to back. And even through NOFX play the part of everyone’s bratty brothers, they stopped playing ¾ of the way through a song because they were told to stop playing at seven on the nose, so they did. It’s punk to follow the rules.

The reason for the tight turn around was that on a neighboring stage, the gypsy-punk world music gumbo pot that’s known as Gogol Bordello (pictured top) was taking the stage. At that same time, the rain that was on and off throughout the day decided to commit and stay awhile. It actually made a weird type of sense as it caused the always over-energetic frontman Eugene Hütz to push that much harder to make it a good show. As hard as it is to believe, the man actually has a sixth gear. On paper Gogol Bordello sounds like an NPR-endorsed nightmare, but it is stunningly easy to get swept up in their performance—even 200 feet back.  It was a cheerfully profane, marbled-mouthed set that seemed to hit every type of music and caused dance parties to spring up, rain be damned.

Next on the docket of full-album nostalgia was The Offspring, who were celebrating the 20th anniversary of their third album and commercial breakthrough, Smash. It may be cruel to say that it’s been a slow decline ever since, but it’s hard to imagine an interest in a full run through of, say, Splinter (the band’s seventh album from 2003). It’s hard to find as drastic a contrast as between NOFX and The Offspring. While NOFX could barely keep it together, The Offspring had a set that was as slick as the pop groups of which they once seemed to be the counterpoint. What followed was a professional, but not very inspired set. It was played well and there were some giddy moments in hearing some of the songs live, but generally, it never got that certain oomph. But then they went and dashed the good will with all the songs that caused, let’s call it, the demise of The Offspring. It was the Americana mini-set, kicked off with “Pretty Fly for a White Guy.” A couple songs in and the smart move was to go and set up for the highlight of the day, Jane’s Addiction.

Lollapalooza and Perry Farrell are the spiritual godfathers of Riot Fest, so it’s fitting that they closed out the opening night performing Nothing’s Shocking front to back. And while The Offspring were slick in their performance, Jane’s Addiction (pictured above) was the other side of that coin. Tight but inspired, professional but still leaving space for spontaneous moments, the band seemed invigorated by the opportunity to play songs that they’ve rarely aired out live. Unfortunately, a few elements were working against them. Vocally there are some songs that have notes Farrell just can’t consistently hit anymore. Thankfully he’s aware of that and makes adjustments when necessary. But the biggest problem was that the sound was glaringly sub-par during some big chunks of the set. What should have been a big moment during “Jane Says” sounded as if it was coming through an iPod speaker in the distance. It didn’t mar the majority of the set, but it was frustrating none the less. But when it was on, the melodic basslines of Chris Chaney, the absurdly nimble drum work of Stephen Perkins and the delightfully vulgar, metal tinged guitar solos of Dave Navarro made that cold, muddy and rainy Friday night at Humboldt Park the place to be. Here’s to looking forward to what day two will bring.