09.10LollaPOSTlooza
The 16-hour drive with Alix and Frank from Boulder to Chicago was a joy for the most part. The meager stick-shift driving experience that I culled from Wednesday Male-Centric HobNobs with Chris Hart and Phil through high school kind of stuck, though I did stall a few times, forgetting the clutch had to be in for a stop.
One of the non-stalling driving shifts took place from about 3AM to sunrise through Iowa. Before I took the wheel, I requested we stop for an energy drink at a nearby truck stop, which happened to be CLOSED.
Wandering around looking for a vending machine or something, a dude in a car offered me a Mountain Dew, and since I was really tired and in Iowa not Brooklyn, I took it. I offered to pay for it and everything, but the guy just wanted to talk about upping my RAM on my computer, his recent divorce from his wife of ten years, heavy metal music and speed traps.
With pin-point accuracy, he told me where the cops were so I could speed through the night while Alix and Frank were sleeping. I think I made the best time.
The Midgley/Merrit residence is literally a block away from the Obama household in Hyde Park. They’re cute together, their friends are interesting, blah, blah blah…
I met up with The Honeymooners (Kate and Elliott) at The James hotel in downtown Chicago, where they were staying in AWESOME digs for their Lollapalooza Package. I ran to grab some water at the Trader Joes across the street and in the elevator on my way back up to their place, I made small talk with a hickish-looking man who claimed also to be going to Lollapalooza. I remember thinking that he wasn’t the type of person I’d expect at a marathon music festival, where it was all but assumed we’d be dodging heat stroke while simultaneously swallowing beers and getting by unscathed because we’re “young” and “stupid.”
Another day, repeating the Trader Joes water run, I ran across a midwestern looking woman and her teenaged daughter. The woman stopped me and asked if her daughter could take a picture with me. I obliged, putting my arm around her and giving the thumbs-up, but never figured out who they thought I was.
Elliott, Kate and I meandered towards Grant Park, where the festival was held on a mile-long stretch of beautiful park.
I think we left the hotel at about a-quarter-till-one, assuming that we’d use our nifty bracelets to breeze through the entrance, get some beer and plop down for some of Rouge Wave around 1:15.
In actuality, we ended up drinking somewhere around 4 liters of water between the three of us as we waited in line for entry. I’m going to guess it took about 45 minutes.
We met Frank in line, who had rubber-banded my extra 3-day bracelet around his wrist in hopes that security wouldn’t tighten it. That way, he could see Radiohead and I could sell my bracelet the next day for some extra cash.
Elliott and I discussed politics.
We finally got in and got us some moderately-priced $5 beer (hell, that’s what I pay at bars!) and wandered north to the Bud Light stage where we caught The Go! Team.
The Go! Team: I was always a bigger fan of Thunder, Lightning, Strike when it was an all instrumental album. That kind of changed when I saw Ninja do her thing as the front-woman. Not only was Go! charming and energetic, but they manage to re-crate the majority of the sound on the album with a semi-traditional lineup, plus a bit of sampleing.
Bonus points to Ninja who put her all into her dancing, expression and lighting-fast rapping. She sweat so much her nipples came poking through. I’m pretty sure I know what Ninja would look like naked. Just need to find out if she shaves the carpet or not, I suppose.
Frank and I removed our shirts, Frank with the line: “Would anyone be offended if I took my shirt off?”
“Oh God! Frank’s chest, I’m so offended!”
This lead to me taking my shirt off and (ever so briefly) Elliott joining us shirtless rouges. The heat was crippling, the water was low and the beer was warm. Yet, we kept drinking it, dancing and having a fairly good time.
When leaving Go!, some kid slipped in mud while talking on his cell phone and splattered almost everyone nearby. Kate, we thought, escaped unscathed despite being as close to him as people whose shirts were in need of a good laundering. Hours later, we discovered that one, single, spot of mud had landed on her breast.
Kate and Elliott had seriously good luck on their honeymoon.
Louis XIV – We passed some of Frank’s friends who were headed to Louis XIV on the Citi Stage. We were headed to The Kills on the nearby MySpace Stage. I got to hear one song from Louis XIV, and I liked it despite the fact I’ll never be able to tell you which song I heard. Whichever song you wanted me to hear, that was the one.
The Kills – It was about at this point (3:20PM?) that I realized my dream schedule was impossible. Switching from “northapalooza” to “southapalooza” was quite the trek through massive crowds (255,000 estimated attendance), and the festival was VERY WELL RUN, with one act starting exactly when the nearby act finished their set.
Walking to The Kills on the south side (the bigger side) was part of the plan for Elliott and Kate to plant somewhere all day so as to be close to Radiohead in the evening. The organizers knew their headliners and didn’t put anyone up against Radiohead on Day One. The individual tickets were sold out: everyone would be on the south side.
The Kills were good, still performing as a duo with their stripped-down sound. I wasn’t greatly impressed that I had to listen to them tune a guitar for 3-minutes. I mean, they only had an hour to play and their songs don’t really hinge on the guitar being perfectly in tune. It’s just guitars, drums and vocals.
I got to hear what I wanted to hear, then we moved towards the AT&T Stage (where, ironically, there was no AT&T cell service) and planted about 100 feet away from the stage, slightly to the right of the sound booth.
Where a kick-drum sound-check made me want to puke.
Gogol Bordello – It sounded great, don’t get me wrong, but it was sudden, sharp and loud enough to make me feel it in not-so-happy parts of my stomach.
Some grizzled looking Gypsys, a Hispanic guy in a collar made of feathers and some inexplicably Asian dancer/screamer girls came on stage and Gogol Bordello kicked off.
Elliott almost immediately turned to me and said: “I can see why Tai likes these guys.”
Having been in a band with Tai and Elliott, I could see exactly where he was coming from. Their set was well-rehearsed and tight, but you get the felling that Gogol Bordello would rather be having fun then putting on a good performance. Only the Asian dancers with their choreographed poses, screams and percussion seemed like they were having a fake party. Everyone else was having a real party out in the sun.
Basically, awesome and loud. And tiring.
So Elliott and I went to get food.
Mates of State – Elliott and I made the trek to get food and beer. We bought hot dogs and I bought an Italian sausage. I ate that Italian sausage without condiments. It was difficult, and I hated myself for it, but if I hadn’t eaten, things would be bad.
We listened to some Mates of State in the distance. That made eating easier. Mates of State are cute.
Bloc Party – We eventually found Frank and Kate again and gave them their share of hot dogs and beer. Then, Bloc Party came on.
They were fun, and they turned down the kick drum, but a bathroom run was needed for all involved and Frank had to leave to sneak Alix in for Radiohead using our brilliant and super-secret bracelet-swapping technique.
Radiohead- We saw Radiohead from a small hill right in front of the luxary, ”you-must-be-a-millionaire-to-sit-in-here” cabanas where Elijah Wood was hanging out, drinking a mixed drink in a plastic cup and watching Radiohead.
At the nearby Soldier Field, about a mile or two away, they were having an unrelated event involving fireworks. During Radiohead’s set, the fireworks began. Through “Everything In Its Right Place” and into “Fake Plastic Trees” the fireworks went off to the right of the stage, in perfect view.
Alix kissed Frank, Elliott and Kate hugged, I looked at Elijah Wood and realized that he was watching the fireworks not the band, and I was watching him.