First day of Life Is Beautiful packed with upbeat acts

It was a pledge of joy delivered with all the mirth of a toenail extraction.

“You all understand how happy I am, in actuality,” observed Kanye West, a man who wears his scowl proudly, in defiance of the competition, like a pro athlete does a championship ring.

West noted as much in the middle of a lengthy monologue where he mostly addressed his detractors, his brief testimonial to contentment akin to a dash of sugar countering the bitter tang of a cupful of arsenic.

It was the first time West spoke to the crowd during his headlining performance on the opening night of the Life Is Beautiful festival, a three-day music, food and arts feel-good-a-thon meant to inspire both the spirit and the consumption of craft brews and gourmet lamb sandwiches.

With audience members clutching balloons adorned with smiley faces, surrounding signs that saluted their beauty, West’s fierce, flammable performance initially seemed tonally incongruous in such a buoyant setting.

His stage entrance was soundtracked by a metallic take on “The Imperial March,” Darth Vader’s theme in the “Star Wars” saga, his features hidden behind a bejeweled mask, and from the outset, he seemed to identify himself as a villain.

“Pardon, I’m getting my scream on,” West growled on “Black Skinhead,” and this, he did: His first nine songs were performed without pause, breathless and exhilarating, West’s throat and emotions equally raw.

This opening salvo was unified in purpose: addressing the perceived double-standards in African-American economic ascension (“Cold,” “New Slaves,” “Power”), the trumpeting of West’s self-acknowledged greatness by detailing the personal shortcoming he has to best (“Can’t Tell Me Nothing,” “Runaway”) and, of course, there was the continuous assailing of his assailants (pretty much all of the above).

At this point, West gave his speech, which signaled a shift in the tenor of the show with an ensuing hit parade (a cover of Jay-Z’s “Run This Town,” “Touch the Sky,” “Gold Digger,” etc.).

The message here: Life may be beautiful, but West’s is more beautiful-er.

West wasn’t alone in turning inner-turmoil to triumph.

Vegas-born singer-songwriter Jenny Lewis led her band in a wonderful, albeit-abbreviated set (she arrived to the stage 20 minutes late) filled with plucky, radiant pop about pole-vaulting heartache and gender roles alike, highlighted by the gorgeous, acoustic “Pretty Bird” and its opposite, blues tempest “The Next Messiah,” where she was joined by her husband, Johnathan Rice, on vocals, guitar and bravado.

Above all else, this was a day meant to be free of downers, from the robo-voiced, cowbell-abetted disco pop of Holy Ghost!, who had to postpone the opening of their early-afternoon set because the heat was making their equipment malfunction, to the tirelessly exuberant power pop of Echosmith, the pulmonary thump of ASTR’s brassy, dance floor R&B, the breezy, Caribbean rhythms of Vacationer, the smile-‘til-your-face-hurts, NPR-approved Americana of The Head &The Heart and the TNT soul of Vintage Trouble, who had a portion of the crowd literally howling at the moon at one point during their winkingly debauched showing.

Some of the lineup just seemed happy to be here, like Panic! at the Disco frontman and Vegas native Brendon Urie, shirt off, tight leather pants on.

“I was never allowed down here as a kid,” he noted, alluding to the transformation of this once-rugged stretch of downtown into a foodie-friendly block party towards the end of his band’s well-received performance, which ranged from tart cabaret pop to a suitably overblown cover of Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody.”

In terms of sheer energy expulsion, though, unrivaled was mash-up guru Girl Talk, who traced the connective tissue between David Bowie and Juicy J, Flosstradamus and AC/DC while flanked by spasmodic dancers on a basketball-themed stage complete with inflatable sneakers.

Enduring his performance from beginning to end was like attempting to guzzle a gallon-drum of Red Bull: energizing at first, but ultimately exhausting.

Amid all these showy displays of enthusiasm, there were a few outliers, like dusky alt-rockers Phantogram, whose ghostly vocals haunted thick squalls of guitar, and the dark-hued, in-your-face carnality of R&B futurist The Weeknd, who voice was soft and supple but whose words were hard and unyielding, given to songs that alternately thundered and seduced.

Of course, it all led up to Kanye West, who predictably drew the largest crowd of the day.

In tune with the uplifting theme of the weekend, he took the occasion to burnish his reputation for a moment.

“The idea that I’m a bad guy, that I’m a bad person. … it’s like, what do you mean?” he questioned. “You mean the guy who goes to the studio until 3 a.m. every night?”

West prefaced his comments by noting that this was a portion of his show that normally gets him in trouble — with whom, he didn’t specify.

As he spoke, he bracketed the word “trouble” in air quotes.

Like many things spoken of on this day — beauty, happiness, success — it was a relative term.

Contact reporter Jason Bracelin at jbracelin@reviewjournal.com or 702-383-0476. Follow @JasonBracelin on Twitter.