If you try and count how many times Robin Thicke says the phrase, “get it!” I guarantee you’ll go insane before he even gets around to singing “Blurred Lines.” Even though he took the West stage 20 minutes late, the parade of ridiculously over-the-top madness that eventually followed made it worth it. For real, this guy sings about sex with the kind of clueless confidence that only Tenacious D can usually pull off. Thicke got played on to the stage by his backing band, entering with three scantily clad women who had mic set-ups hinting that they might be backup singers, but in reality spent 90% of the performance dancing and grinding on him. Then he played a song at the piano about how he wishes racism would end … before immediately jumping back to all the sex. Later there was a reggae song lit in green, red, and yellow – just to remind you that reggae comes from Jamaica. Don’t misunderstand if any of this sounds condescending; Thicke’s performance is triumphantly stupid, but with just the right amount of self-awareness. There wasn’t a set all day that had me laughing and grinning more than his.