When the Maises and the Irises were busy fixing the electric, my friend JC and I headed out to Lolla early in the hope of catching Rogue Wave at 1 P.M. Now you’d think because we arrived at Grant Park by 12:20 that we’d have PLENTY of time to collect our bracelets, be strip searched, and make it across the park in time to catch Rogue. You'd think. However, I at least thought wrong. The massive swarm of hot, sweaty Lolla-goers had us in line until about 2 P.M. We couldn’t even drink our water lest they confiscate it at the gate. Ugh ugh UGH. Dear Lolla organizers, can we please forgo the pointless searches that do nothing to keep contraband out but only create a sweaty, crabby mass people? Is that really too much to ask??? Grrr....
JC and I did made it across the park in time to hear Rogue Wave’s last song, “Harmonium.” The crowd seemed energetic and appreciative. I was bummed to have missed their set, but in any event, I’d highly recommend their latest CD, Asleep at Heaven’s Gate, one of my favorites from last year.
Following Rogue, JC and I headed to the wonderfully shady BMI stage to catch Electric Touch at the suggestion of one of JC’s friends. Their first CD is due out later this month. They were pretty amusing to watch prior to the show as they were ready to play a full 15 minutes before their scheduled time, and they just kind of milled around on stage not quite sure what to do with themselves, plucking at their guitars, their natty clothes, even their hair. Their music is along the lines of Franz Ferdinand or the Strokes, but perhaps a bit more pop than either. I don’t know that I’d recommend running out and buying their CD, but they were a fun live band and definitely gave far more energy to the performance than the crowd returned.
Next up, we headed across the park (again) to catch Duffy’s set. A cleaned up version of Amy Winehouse (and not quite as good either), after about two songs, she left me feeling really blah. I’m not sure if it’s her music or the fact that her style of music doesn’t fit well with an outdoor festival. For me, acts at an outdoor festival require a lot of energy and vibrancy to grab one’s attention and hold it, especially when they’re competing against not only other bands but a number of other factors, including the heat, the concessions, the amusing frat boys who are already too drunk to stand by 3 P.M. Plus, acts that rely heavily on dramatic lighting or pyrotechnics are at a disadvantage, particularly when they have to play in the glaring afternoon sun. But I digress. Duffy had both JC and me bored to tears, so halfway through, we trekked across the park (again) to catch the end of the Kills set, which we only caught a very brief snippet of but seemed to be far more fun than Duffy.
At this point, JC and I decided to camp out in a shady area near the main stage and grab a good spot for the rest of the evening. That’s when Gogol Bordello, the gypsy punks, took the stage. Goddamn, they are a manic bunch, and any lethargy I was feeling at the time quickly dispersed. Their set was a frenzied mix of ethnic punk music that’s difficult to describe but a lot of fun to listen to. Their performance is exactly what Duffy’s wasn’t: interesting, fun, energetic, and charismatic. They didn’t slow down for a single song and quickly attracted the wandering attentions of Free Sol listeners. I would definitely recommend seeing them live even if their music isn’t your thing.
Following Gogol, Mates of State had no chance of topping that performance, and they delivered a rather bland performance that really isn’t worth talking about. I was excited, however, when Bloc Party, a favorite of mine, finally took the stage. Their set was heavy on songs from their first (and by far superior) album, Silent Alarm, and touched on all of my personal favorites. I’m hoping they return to Chicago soon as I think they too suffered from the outdoor festival-itis, but I enjoy their music enough to forgive them.
Though we were sitting across from Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks stage, we didn’t really pay much attention to their drowsy music. Their set felt generally uninspired and did little to peak my interest. But thankfully, from where JC and I were sitting, we were able to hear (though sadly not see) the performance of CSS, the Brazilian quintet who fuses pop, reggae, and dance music. JC liked them enough to buy their latest self-titled CD, which is a great listen. And they offered a far more interesting performance that Stephen Malkmus, even if we could only listen to their show.
Next up was Radiohead. Unlike Maise, I have no love for the band. I find their instrumentals to be interesting and enjoyable, but as soon as Thom opens his mouth, I want to stick ice picks in my ears. It’s like fucking nails on a chalkboard and grates on me like nothing else. And believe me, I’ve tried to like this band. I had a coworker who would listen to Radiohead at least once a day, and he convinced me to give them a whirl. When I went out and bought Amnesiac, I forced myself to listen to it any number of times and wound up giving it to him instead. He made me a copy of The Bends, promising me that I would most certainly LOVE this one. I listened to a few times as well and promptly lost (and not on purpose either). If Thom just shut his mouth, I’d be all up in that shit, but seriously? Why do people like him? Beats the hell out of me….
Anyhoo, even if I were inclined to like Radiohead’s music, as with any number of the other bands this year, they did not translate well to the outdoor arena. Even with a quite gorgeous light show, I was half asleep by the midway point. Every song sounded exactly the same, and Thom's singing was largely unintelligible. So JC and I packed it in after about an hour and decided to beat the crowds home. And apparently we weren’t the only ones bored stiff because there was a large stream of people doing the same. Thankfully, Rage and NIN nicely made up for the ennui Radiohead inspired in me. But that’s a story for another day….
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Monday, August 4, 2008
Lollapalooza, Day 3--The Conclusion...
Okay, I woke up extra early this morning to make sure I get my recap of Day 3 written because later today, the husband is whisking me away to Michigan, where I will have ZERO internet access until Friday. We don't even get cell phone reception out there. 100% committment to giving you all the latest news in rock. Well, normally I'm like 45% committed...if that. But Day 3 was SO SOLID, it simply can't wait.
I remember in years past idling in the air-conditioned AT&T Digital Oasis tent, the "Green Street" market, which the husband dismissed as only selling "hippie-wear" this year, and other such distractions. But there was so little downtime this year with all the acts we wanted to see, we barely had time to eat and use those charming port-o-lets.
We arrived in time to see Perry Farrell play a short set with Slash at the kids' stage. As you may recall, we attempted to see the adult version of this show, but the audio completely died in the middle, and so did the performance. They played with at least a couple of members of The School of Rock (and I swear to God, if I ever do have children, I'm so putting them through The School of Rock because how fucking awesome would it be to play a set with Perry Farrell and Slash at the age of 12?)
In the official Lollapalooza schedule/guidebook, they insist that Perry Farrell has "a way with kids," or something like that. Well, he certainly has a way. Writhing like a snake and talking with his "Creepy Uncle Larry" voice, I can't imagine he did anything but frighten the youngest rock fans. I'm paraphrasing here, but he was prone to introducing his songs with bits of Perry wisdom like, "Now, kids, voodoo is nothing to be afraid of. And superstition is just that...superstitious," (after a cover of Stevie Wonder's "Superstition"). Before "Knocking on Heaven's Door," he taught us, "Some of you may have known someone who has died. And death is nothing to be afraid of, kids." Slash was a silent Cousin Itt onstage, chain-smoking. (And doesn't he have a pacemaker? Is that good for his heart?) But who cares? The set still rocked! We also heard Jane's Addiction favorites like "Mountain Song" and "Jane Says." Anyway, this was a totally worthwhile little show, and since Velvet Revolver is no more, perhaps Slash and Perry should collaborate together in the future.
Next, we waited for Saul Williams. We staked out a position in front of the soundbooth, and eagle-eyed Iris flagged down the person who was handing out feathers to the crowd (so we could match Saul). Iris and I proudly wore our feathers all day like dorks...I mean, like the COOL KIDS.
Saul certainly did not disappoint. Before he and CX Kidtronik started performing, the bass to their intro music was so loud that my intestines were vibrating. I wish I was one of those people who could provide you with an accurate setlist, but I was too busy ROCKING OUT to play court reporter. I do know that he played "Gunshots by Computer," "Grippo," "Convict Colony," "Tr(n)igger," "Black Stacey," "List of Demands (Reparations)," "Surrender (A Second to Think)," "Niggy Tardust," "WTF," and "Sunday Bloody Sunday." Maybe "Break?" I can't remember. I do know that he did not let up the manic energy for a second, and the crowd was with him every step of the way. At one point, we saw a portion of the crowd surge forward, and we learned that Saul had gone into the audience. Dressed in his feathers, painted mask, and mohawk, running across the stage, roaring his lyrics, occasionally pausing for a dizzying bout of spoken word, Saul commanded the crowd like no one else I saw this weekend. As always, a Saul Williams performance is a thrilling, deeply satisfying experience. He can work the most apathetic hipsters into a frenzy and make us all feel like teenagers again, when going to a concert was the most fucking exciting thing you could imagine, and you had worked at McDonald's all summer to save up for this one night, and your parents drop you off at the door with some unspoken reservations, and you're standing in the crowd, sweating, and you really have to pee, but you're afraid to move for fear of missing the moment when the lights go out and everyone loses their shit. It's like that.
The only things detracting from this show were the 12-year-olds passing around a pipe (fucking kids these days), and the drunken floozies in sundresses who thought they were SO CUTE, sitting on their boyfriends' shoulders, trying to soak up the crowd's attention and getting in the way of Iris' recording. No Trent appearance, but he was sick, and I could see how he wouldn't want to steal Saul's thunder. Or that's my theory, at least.
Next we proceeded to the f.y.e. tent because ohmahgah, Saul Williams was signing autographs!!! I kind of love/hate autograph signings. It gives you an opportunity to meet and shake the hands of artists whom you deeply respect, love, and admire, but on the other hand, you've got all the handlers barking at you for some kind of violation, like trying to have the wrong thing signed or trying to take pictures, and then you only have about 20 seconds, tops, to make some kind of good impression, and if I'm REALLY into an artist, then I tend to lose all ability to speak. Plus, Saul is rather intimidating with his inherent, unshakeable coolness and ability to launch into dramatic beat poetry at the drop of a hat.
I was struggling to think of something good to say while Iris was trying to get some pictures before her camera was confiscated and destroyed. I noticed that CX Kidtronik was also there for autographs, and shit, what was I supposed to say to *him*? It was a lot of pressure.
As we approached, I said, "Great show!" to Kidtronik and was rewarded with an unsolicited hug. He signed my CD, and then I moved on to Saul. I was wearing my Saul Williams t-shirt (yeah, I'm THAT person), so I informed him that I was fully prepared for this signing. I then explained that he did a great show and that we would give him a glowing review "on our blog that no one reads," which elicited a REAL laugh--not a polite "ha," but a REAL laugh. So there. Then I fled the scene.
Iris told him that he did a fantastic show and complimented the 12-year-old girl who performed with him. Then she was smart enough to ask him for a hug. (Dammit!) As we got out of line, we squeed like schoolgirls. We hung around, waiting to meet a friend, and saw Saul taking some photos with lingering fans. We loitered, trying to see if we could get a pic together with him, but we ultimately chickened out. We suck.
Nine Inch Nails came on shortly afterwards. "9,999,999" led into a strong selection from The Slip: "1,000,000," "Letting You," and "Discipline." He then tackled perennial favorites, "March of the Pigs," "Closer," and "Gave Up." He played each of these with a fierce energy...you would never get the sense that he had been playing these over and over and over again for 10+ years.
Then I started to get concerned. He moved on to some Year Zero selections..."The Warning," which was sexy and menacing as usual. Then "Vessel." Oh hell. Is there anyone out there who *really* loves "Vessel"? I hear it, and all I can think of is, "What the holy fuck is going on in this song?" It's like Duran Duran's "The Reflex." I get so caught up in wondering what the fuck it's about that I can hardly appreciate its musical merits. For her part, Iris hits "skip" as soon as she hears, "I. let. you. put. it. in. my. mouth."
Then we had at least three tracks off of "Ghosts," and I started to really worry. They weren't the most exciting tracks of this album to begin with, and they were slooow, and I was concerned that Trent was going to lose this easily distracted outdoor concert crowd (most of whom were completely trashed and had wilted in the 90-degree heat for 10 hours) with instrumental noodling. Part of the problem was that Trent was on the inferior "Bud Light" stage, which is placed into a sort of depression in the ground in Grant Park. So those of us who were well in the back were kind of higher up than the stage, and it was impossible to appreciate the AMAZING production that Trent has put together. Seriously, this set is the most gorgeous I've ever seen from him and must have cost a million billion dollars.
Plus, Kanye. Kanye West, whom I like and admire, btw, was SO FUCKING LOUD. OH MY GOD. SO LOUD. He was a fucking MILE AWAY, and his sound kept bleeding into our area. This was a problem throughout all of Lollapalooza, but I think this was the first time that I've ever dealt with bleedthrough from one mile away on the complete opposite end of the park. I was waiting for Trent to throw a tantrum about this, but maybe he didn't notice or maybe he was just too sick and subdued. Nine Inch Nails, of all bands, seemed really quiet in comparison.
Next, we got a slow, quiet "Piggy," which I absolutely love, but I was ready for Trent to pick up the pace. After that, "The Greater Good"? WTF? "The Greater Good?" Of all the Year Zero tracks...sigh. I hear, "Breathe...us in...slowly...slowly..." and more often than not hit "skip." Why is this being performed on tour? There are some cool special effects going on in the background, not that I could really see them, though.
Perhaps it was good for those in the pit to have a bit of quiet time, but I felt like the "Ghosts" part of the setlist just dragged a bit too much for this occasion. Meanwhile, during all of this, Mr. Iris, who was trying to take some pictures and video up front, wound up tending to some 350-pound drunk guy who had broken his ankle in a mosh circle and waited for EMTs for 45 minutes. It's an epic tale of incompetence that probably deserves its own post...so stay tuned!
Finally, "Pinion" kicked in, and Iris and I simultaneously felt a sense of "Fuck yeah!" They then launched into "Wish," finally turned the volume up to 11, and rocked the fuck out for the rest of the show. OMG, I have never ever heard a harder-hitting version of "Survivalism." That was probably the best song of the night for me. But really the entire second half of the show was just devastating, all the way up to "Head Like a Hole." Trent actually did an encore...he's doing encores now? Then returned to talk to the crowd. He apologized for his voice and explained (rather sweetly, I thought) that he had played the first Lollapalooza 17 years ago and was shocked that he was still alive and that he was still playing to a full house, so he expressed sincere gratitude to us and to his band. Then we got "Hurt," which as far as I could tell, was NOT ruined by the fans, and "In This Twilight," which turned out really well, considering his illness.
So that was the end of Lollapalooza 2008, the best I have attended so far. On the way out, Mr. Maise nearly started a fistfight in my defense when I was hit in the head with a rugby football, but we were able to resolve the situation without damaging U.S.-Australia diplomatic relations.
And now the rest of us return to the real world of work, sunburns, hangovers, moshing injuries...but not me! I'M ON VACATION, BITCHES!
Iris will update soon with amazing pics and vids, so stay tuned!
**EDIT**
All videos are now posted to our YouTube account.
I remember in years past idling in the air-conditioned AT&T Digital Oasis tent, the "Green Street" market, which the husband dismissed as only selling "hippie-wear" this year, and other such distractions. But there was so little downtime this year with all the acts we wanted to see, we barely had time to eat and use those charming port-o-lets.
We arrived in time to see Perry Farrell play a short set with Slash at the kids' stage. As you may recall, we attempted to see the adult version of this show, but the audio completely died in the middle, and so did the performance. They played with at least a couple of members of The School of Rock (and I swear to God, if I ever do have children, I'm so putting them through The School of Rock because how fucking awesome would it be to play a set with Perry Farrell and Slash at the age of 12?)
In the official Lollapalooza schedule/guidebook, they insist that Perry Farrell has "a way with kids," or something like that. Well, he certainly has a way. Writhing like a snake and talking with his "Creepy Uncle Larry" voice, I can't imagine he did anything but frighten the youngest rock fans. I'm paraphrasing here, but he was prone to introducing his songs with bits of Perry wisdom like, "Now, kids, voodoo is nothing to be afraid of. And superstition is just that...superstitious," (after a cover of Stevie Wonder's "Superstition"). Before "Knocking on Heaven's Door," he taught us, "Some of you may have known someone who has died. And death is nothing to be afraid of, kids." Slash was a silent Cousin Itt onstage, chain-smoking. (And doesn't he have a pacemaker? Is that good for his heart?) But who cares? The set still rocked! We also heard Jane's Addiction favorites like "Mountain Song" and "Jane Says." Anyway, this was a totally worthwhile little show, and since Velvet Revolver is no more, perhaps Slash and Perry should collaborate together in the future.
Next, we waited for Saul Williams. We staked out a position in front of the soundbooth, and eagle-eyed Iris flagged down the person who was handing out feathers to the crowd (so we could match Saul). Iris and I proudly wore our feathers all day like dorks...I mean, like the COOL KIDS.
Saul certainly did not disappoint. Before he and CX Kidtronik started performing, the bass to their intro music was so loud that my intestines were vibrating. I wish I was one of those people who could provide you with an accurate setlist, but I was too busy ROCKING OUT to play court reporter. I do know that he played "Gunshots by Computer," "Grippo," "Convict Colony," "Tr(n)igger," "Black Stacey," "List of Demands (Reparations)," "Surrender (A Second to Think)," "Niggy Tardust," "WTF," and "Sunday Bloody Sunday." Maybe "Break?" I can't remember. I do know that he did not let up the manic energy for a second, and the crowd was with him every step of the way. At one point, we saw a portion of the crowd surge forward, and we learned that Saul had gone into the audience. Dressed in his feathers, painted mask, and mohawk, running across the stage, roaring his lyrics, occasionally pausing for a dizzying bout of spoken word, Saul commanded the crowd like no one else I saw this weekend. As always, a Saul Williams performance is a thrilling, deeply satisfying experience. He can work the most apathetic hipsters into a frenzy and make us all feel like teenagers again, when going to a concert was the most fucking exciting thing you could imagine, and you had worked at McDonald's all summer to save up for this one night, and your parents drop you off at the door with some unspoken reservations, and you're standing in the crowd, sweating, and you really have to pee, but you're afraid to move for fear of missing the moment when the lights go out and everyone loses their shit. It's like that.
The only things detracting from this show were the 12-year-olds passing around a pipe (fucking kids these days), and the drunken floozies in sundresses who thought they were SO CUTE, sitting on their boyfriends' shoulders, trying to soak up the crowd's attention and getting in the way of Iris' recording. No Trent appearance, but he was sick, and I could see how he wouldn't want to steal Saul's thunder. Or that's my theory, at least.
Next we proceeded to the f.y.e. tent because ohmahgah, Saul Williams was signing autographs!!! I kind of love/hate autograph signings. It gives you an opportunity to meet and shake the hands of artists whom you deeply respect, love, and admire, but on the other hand, you've got all the handlers barking at you for some kind of violation, like trying to have the wrong thing signed or trying to take pictures, and then you only have about 20 seconds, tops, to make some kind of good impression, and if I'm REALLY into an artist, then I tend to lose all ability to speak. Plus, Saul is rather intimidating with his inherent, unshakeable coolness and ability to launch into dramatic beat poetry at the drop of a hat.
I was struggling to think of something good to say while Iris was trying to get some pictures before her camera was confiscated and destroyed. I noticed that CX Kidtronik was also there for autographs, and shit, what was I supposed to say to *him*? It was a lot of pressure.
As we approached, I said, "Great show!" to Kidtronik and was rewarded with an unsolicited hug. He signed my CD, and then I moved on to Saul. I was wearing my Saul Williams t-shirt (yeah, I'm THAT person), so I informed him that I was fully prepared for this signing. I then explained that he did a great show and that we would give him a glowing review "on our blog that no one reads," which elicited a REAL laugh--not a polite "ha," but a REAL laugh. So there. Then I fled the scene.
Iris told him that he did a fantastic show and complimented the 12-year-old girl who performed with him. Then she was smart enough to ask him for a hug. (Dammit!) As we got out of line, we squeed like schoolgirls. We hung around, waiting to meet a friend, and saw Saul taking some photos with lingering fans. We loitered, trying to see if we could get a pic together with him, but we ultimately chickened out. We suck.
Nine Inch Nails came on shortly afterwards. "9,999,999" led into a strong selection from The Slip: "1,000,000," "Letting You," and "Discipline." He then tackled perennial favorites, "March of the Pigs," "Closer," and "Gave Up." He played each of these with a fierce energy...you would never get the sense that he had been playing these over and over and over again for 10+ years.
Then I started to get concerned. He moved on to some Year Zero selections..."The Warning," which was sexy and menacing as usual. Then "Vessel." Oh hell. Is there anyone out there who *really* loves "Vessel"? I hear it, and all I can think of is, "What the holy fuck is going on in this song?" It's like Duran Duran's "The Reflex." I get so caught up in wondering what the fuck it's about that I can hardly appreciate its musical merits. For her part, Iris hits "skip" as soon as she hears, "I. let. you. put. it. in. my. mouth."
Then we had at least three tracks off of "Ghosts," and I started to really worry. They weren't the most exciting tracks of this album to begin with, and they were slooow, and I was concerned that Trent was going to lose this easily distracted outdoor concert crowd (most of whom were completely trashed and had wilted in the 90-degree heat for 10 hours) with instrumental noodling. Part of the problem was that Trent was on the inferior "Bud Light" stage, which is placed into a sort of depression in the ground in Grant Park. So those of us who were well in the back were kind of higher up than the stage, and it was impossible to appreciate the AMAZING production that Trent has put together. Seriously, this set is the most gorgeous I've ever seen from him and must have cost a million billion dollars.
Plus, Kanye. Kanye West, whom I like and admire, btw, was SO FUCKING LOUD. OH MY GOD. SO LOUD. He was a fucking MILE AWAY, and his sound kept bleeding into our area. This was a problem throughout all of Lollapalooza, but I think this was the first time that I've ever dealt with bleedthrough from one mile away on the complete opposite end of the park. I was waiting for Trent to throw a tantrum about this, but maybe he didn't notice or maybe he was just too sick and subdued. Nine Inch Nails, of all bands, seemed really quiet in comparison.
Next, we got a slow, quiet "Piggy," which I absolutely love, but I was ready for Trent to pick up the pace. After that, "The Greater Good"? WTF? "The Greater Good?" Of all the Year Zero tracks...sigh. I hear, "Breathe...us in...slowly...slowly..." and more often than not hit "skip." Why is this being performed on tour? There are some cool special effects going on in the background, not that I could really see them, though.
Perhaps it was good for those in the pit to have a bit of quiet time, but I felt like the "Ghosts" part of the setlist just dragged a bit too much for this occasion. Meanwhile, during all of this, Mr. Iris, who was trying to take some pictures and video up front, wound up tending to some 350-pound drunk guy who had broken his ankle in a mosh circle and waited for EMTs for 45 minutes. It's an epic tale of incompetence that probably deserves its own post...so stay tuned!
Finally, "Pinion" kicked in, and Iris and I simultaneously felt a sense of "Fuck yeah!" They then launched into "Wish," finally turned the volume up to 11, and rocked the fuck out for the rest of the show. OMG, I have never ever heard a harder-hitting version of "Survivalism." That was probably the best song of the night for me. But really the entire second half of the show was just devastating, all the way up to "Head Like a Hole." Trent actually did an encore...he's doing encores now? Then returned to talk to the crowd. He apologized for his voice and explained (rather sweetly, I thought) that he had played the first Lollapalooza 17 years ago and was shocked that he was still alive and that he was still playing to a full house, so he expressed sincere gratitude to us and to his band. Then we got "Hurt," which as far as I could tell, was NOT ruined by the fans, and "In This Twilight," which turned out really well, considering his illness.
So that was the end of Lollapalooza 2008, the best I have attended so far. On the way out, Mr. Maise nearly started a fistfight in my defense when I was hit in the head with a rugby football, but we were able to resolve the situation without damaging U.S.-Australia diplomatic relations.
And now the rest of us return to the real world of work, sunburns, hangovers, moshing injuries...but not me! I'M ON VACATION, BITCHES!
Iris will update soon with amazing pics and vids, so stay tuned!
**EDIT**
All videos are now posted to our YouTube account.
Sunday, August 3, 2008
Lollapalooza, Day Two--Electric Boogaloo
I awoke on this lovely morning to the voice of Iris, sweetly calling up the stairs, "Um, Maise? My car's gone." This left me with a sense of shit, shit, shit, shit, shit! Yes, we had forgotten to put a new parking tag on the rearview mirror of the Irismobile, and my Draconian homeowner's association had it towed. $150 later, the Irismobile was free! (AAA claims they will reimburse the Irises for their trouble, so all's well that ends well.)
After that was settled, we stopped at Ro's for a lovely breakfast and then proceeded to Lolla, day 2. The first act we saw was one of Trent's openers, with the unwieldy name of "Does It Offend You, Yeah?" I had never heard them before, but I really enjoyed their set. They mix electronica with punk with simple, rather adolescent, but classic rock themes on songs like "Let's Make Out" and "We Are Rockstars." They have terrific energy and enjoy bantering with the crowd. "Aw, that guy just threw up. Everyone say, 'awwwwwww'," remarked the lead singer (Morgan Quaintance?), empathetically. What I really appreciated was that they are British, yet I could actually understand what they were saying beyond, "Hello, Chicago!!!!" Quaintance, complaining of the heat, frequently jumped offstage and in front of the crowd. Later in the day, Iris got their autographs at the f.y.e. tent, so I'll let her tell you all about that experience:
DIOYY's set was lot of fun and it was nice to see that their fan enthusiasm was just as high in the autograph tent. They laughed and joked with almost everyone and were taking pictures for themselves of fans with funny t-shirts, cool tattoos, or whatever else seemed to amuse them. I of course choked when I made it up there and leeched off of the guy's conversation ahead of me about "Terminator" the TV series, which the boys all agreed sucked last year. "Yeah, but did you know that Shirley Manson is supposed to have a reoccuring role in this year's season?" "Oh really?" Yeah, so not the best bit I could have come up with, but I'd only really heard about this band a few days before, what the hell was I supposed to say? The only drawback of this experience is that we had Dierks Bentley playing in the background at the Bud Light stage. Who the fuck let a country musician into Lolla?
While Iris got her CD signed, I expressed a curiosity in The Gutter Twins. I had heard good things about them, and the Lollapalooza guidebook promised that they were going to be "a satanic Everly Brothers." The former leaders of The Afghan Whigs and Screaming Trees have united to create unbelievably dull music. Sure, they're gothy. I like gothy. Sure, their lyrics are dark. I like dark music, but I'm sorry, this show bored the shit out of me.
Fortunately, we had the resolution of the Sandwich Showdown to keep us occupied! Paul fit 7 peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches into every pocket of his pants. He had made 20 and was going to use duct tape to layer them on the inside of his pants but could not get them to stick. He also ate one sandwich on the way. Some of his sandwiches were severely flattened because he had been sitting on them all day. These were the least appetizing.
Neil arrived shortly afterwards. He was able to successfully rig a duct tape-layering system and brought a variety of sandwiches: peanut-butter-and-banana, peanut-butter-and-jelly, and turkey with cheese. His grand total? 8. Vanquished, Paul paid the $10, and we all ate sandwiches. (Paul was the one who ate his smashed ass-sandwiches.) And thus, the Sandwich Showdown concluded.
We left during the Gutter Twins' set to make it in time for Devotchka. This was by far my favorite band of the day. They are similar to Gogol Bordello with their extremely eclectic gypsy-folk-Latin-rock style. You may remember them on the soundtrack of Little Miss Sunshine. They bring a wide variety of instruments to the stage, in addition to the usual guitars and drums: theremin, tuba, bouzouki, violin, trumpet, accordion. Their music is joyful and infectious, and I didn't mind standing in the sweltering heat as the sun reflected off the pavement in front of the Playstation 3 stage, listening to their entire set. I can't wait to get their latest album on my ipod and make it the soundtrack to the movies in my head. I love this fucking band so much, it hurts.
After Devotchka, we tried to meet Mr. Maise at Perry's stage to see Perry Farrell with his special guest...Slash! Mr. Maise reported that Slash showed up midway through the set, but the sound died, and the concert ended prematurely. However, Perry and Slash are scheduled to play today (Sunday) at the kids' stage, so we are going to try to catch them there.
Next on our to-do list was British indie soul-funk-electronica star, Jamie Lidell. I'll have Iris tell you all about him because while I enjoyed his improvisational human beat-box riffing, Mr. Maise decidedly did not. So I agreed to walk with him to the other side of the park so we could see Broken Social Scene.
Jamie was a blast! We missed the first few songs of the set, but Jamie and his band were really going to town when we arrived. I wasn't quiet sure what to expect, seeing as how this was another act I'd only discovered days ago, but I wouldn't have envisioned the outfits they were wearing. Check them out.
After that was settled, we stopped at Ro's for a lovely breakfast and then proceeded to Lolla, day 2. The first act we saw was one of Trent's openers, with the unwieldy name of "Does It Offend You, Yeah?" I had never heard them before, but I really enjoyed their set. They mix electronica with punk with simple, rather adolescent, but classic rock themes on songs like "Let's Make Out" and "We Are Rockstars." They have terrific energy and enjoy bantering with the crowd. "Aw, that guy just threw up. Everyone say, 'awwwwwww'," remarked the lead singer (Morgan Quaintance?), empathetically. What I really appreciated was that they are British, yet I could actually understand what they were saying beyond, "Hello, Chicago!!!!" Quaintance, complaining of the heat, frequently jumped offstage and in front of the crowd. Later in the day, Iris got their autographs at the f.y.e. tent, so I'll let her tell you all about that experience:
DIOYY's set was lot of fun and it was nice to see that their fan enthusiasm was just as high in the autograph tent. They laughed and joked with almost everyone and were taking pictures for themselves of fans with funny t-shirts, cool tattoos, or whatever else seemed to amuse them. I of course choked when I made it up there and leeched off of the guy's conversation ahead of me about "Terminator" the TV series, which the boys all agreed sucked last year. "Yeah, but did you know that Shirley Manson is supposed to have a reoccuring role in this year's season?" "Oh really?" Yeah, so not the best bit I could have come up with, but I'd only really heard about this band a few days before, what the hell was I supposed to say? The only drawback of this experience is that we had Dierks Bentley playing in the background at the Bud Light stage. Who the fuck let a country musician into Lolla?
While Iris got her CD signed, I expressed a curiosity in The Gutter Twins. I had heard good things about them, and the Lollapalooza guidebook promised that they were going to be "a satanic Everly Brothers." The former leaders of The Afghan Whigs and Screaming Trees have united to create unbelievably dull music. Sure, they're gothy. I like gothy. Sure, their lyrics are dark. I like dark music, but I'm sorry, this show bored the shit out of me.
Fortunately, we had the resolution of the Sandwich Showdown to keep us occupied! Paul fit 7 peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches into every pocket of his pants. He had made 20 and was going to use duct tape to layer them on the inside of his pants but could not get them to stick. He also ate one sandwich on the way. Some of his sandwiches were severely flattened because he had been sitting on them all day. These were the least appetizing.
Neil arrived shortly afterwards. He was able to successfully rig a duct tape-layering system and brought a variety of sandwiches: peanut-butter-and-banana, peanut-butter-and-jelly, and turkey with cheese. His grand total? 8. Vanquished, Paul paid the $10, and we all ate sandwiches. (Paul was the one who ate his smashed ass-sandwiches.) And thus, the Sandwich Showdown concluded.
We left during the Gutter Twins' set to make it in time for Devotchka. This was by far my favorite band of the day. They are similar to Gogol Bordello with their extremely eclectic gypsy-folk-Latin-rock style. You may remember them on the soundtrack of Little Miss Sunshine. They bring a wide variety of instruments to the stage, in addition to the usual guitars and drums: theremin, tuba, bouzouki, violin, trumpet, accordion. Their music is joyful and infectious, and I didn't mind standing in the sweltering heat as the sun reflected off the pavement in front of the Playstation 3 stage, listening to their entire set. I can't wait to get their latest album on my ipod and make it the soundtrack to the movies in my head. I love this fucking band so much, it hurts.
After Devotchka, we tried to meet Mr. Maise at Perry's stage to see Perry Farrell with his special guest...Slash! Mr. Maise reported that Slash showed up midway through the set, but the sound died, and the concert ended prematurely. However, Perry and Slash are scheduled to play today (Sunday) at the kids' stage, so we are going to try to catch them there.
Next on our to-do list was British indie soul-funk-electronica star, Jamie Lidell. I'll have Iris tell you all about him because while I enjoyed his improvisational human beat-box riffing, Mr. Maise decidedly did not. So I agreed to walk with him to the other side of the park so we could see Broken Social Scene.
Jamie was a blast! We missed the first few songs of the set, but Jamie and his band were really going to town when we arrived. I wasn't quiet sure what to expect, seeing as how this was another act I'd only discovered days ago, but I wouldn't have envisioned the outfits they were wearing. Check them out.
A cummerbund seems a little formal for Lolla, but I think the saxophonist in the tunic toned down the seriousness. Two songs in, the band sort of disappeared into the audience, and Jamie gave us a 10-minute freestyle show. It was impressive to listen to, but a little boring to watch since his back was turned to us for most of the time. The band returned, and they rounded out the set with "Multiply," "Wait For Me," and "A Little Bit More," which was fun to dance along with. I was a little bit disappointed that I didn't get to hear "Game for Fools," but that's a slow song so it wouldn't have really fit the mood.
Afterwards I hightailed it back over to the autograph tent, which was on the other side of Grant Park. I don't know whose bright idea it was to schedule an autographing session 20 minutes after the set but, Jesus! "I had a cart," Jamie said, explaining his superhuman ability to arrive at the f.y.e. tent so quickly. Good news is that Jamie was in fine spirits AND was even early for the signing. Oh my God, he's so cute and funny. I started to hand him my CD and asked if he would pose for a picture. He said, "Sure. Should we do this standing up, love?" Which kind of sent me into a fit of giggles. Of course I have to crop myself out of the picture because I have the dorkiest grin ever, but doesn't he look adorable?
It seems as though everyone loves Broken Social Scene, but they were merely pleasant background music for us as we camped under some shady trees, found some food, and chatted with friends. I don't really have a lot to say about this rather large indie rock band. I was getting tired of all the mellow music. I was ready to RAWK. Fortunately, Rage Against the Machine would provide all the RAWK one could ever want, and then some.
The crowd was ginormous for this, the first Rage concert in Chicago in years. We camped out on the hill, very very far away from the stage. However, very very far away from the stage was a good place to be for this show. Rage did a "greatest hits" set, opening with a chilling prison break siren and launching into "Testify." During "People of the Sun," the band stopped the show for the first of three times to announce that people had gotten hurt up front and that everyone needed to calm down and step back. In between ranting about cops and politicians, Zack de la Rocha urged people to respect security and each other, and he clearly looked concerned, explaining that they might have to end the show early if things didn't settle down.
See, I like Rage Against the Machine. I like their music, I think their hearts are in the right place, and I think they are genuinely concerned about the welfare of their fans. However, I just can't take them seriously. Halfway through the show, I was snarking on them. These are the people who RAILED against the injustice of the Clinton years (HA HA HA HA HA HA HA), and as soon as the shit really hit the fucking fan with 9/11, the Bush administration, the abuse of civil rights, the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, what does Rage do? They "break up" over "creative differences." Tom Morello creates boring-ass Audioslave (as well as some acoustic protest music), and Zack de la Rocha disappears as effectively as Trent Reznor after The Fragile. In other words, they took their ball and went home. We had to have System of a Down create the commercially successful protest music for clueless college kids. Fuck RATM.
On the other hand, it was good to hear all the hits from my clueless college days: "Bulls on Parade," "Sleep Now in the Fire," "Bullet in the Head," etc. (Although was it really wise with this crowd, for Zack to repeat dramatically, "I think I heard a shot..."?)
Of course, we had to have Zack's preachy moment. He made it very clear that RATM was not pro-Obama...oh really? Who the fuck you guys gonna vote for? Nader? Kim Jong Il? And Zack said that if Obama came to power and didn't do things right, they were going to...well, I don't know what they were going to do because I couldn't understand him with the crappy sound up on the hill and Zack's angry muppet voice.
I've got tons of respect for Tom Morello, though. He really does amazing things with the guitar. He is quietly earnest and hardworking, and he doesn't showboat. Plus, he was wearing a Cubs hat.
With the multiple pauses to remove the wounded and arrest the instigators, a generator by the AT&T Digital Tent that started pouring smoke in an alarming manner, an unauthorized fire-dancer being shut down by the police to the disappointment of the crowd, this was a fucked-up show. They ended with everyone's favorite, "Killing in the Name of," and as far as I'm aware, no one died during this set.
All in all, Day 2 of Lolla was excellent with a ton of great acts to see, pleasant weather, and a lot of PB&J sandwiches.
However, nothing compares to our excitement for tonight, when we will be seeing both SAUL WILLIAMS (who's autographing, OMFG!) and, of course, NINE INCH NAILS!
More to come...including more pics and videos!
Oh, speaking of Rage Against the Machine, look who showed up backstage!
I'm glad to see that Trent's feeling better. Or did he pull a Ferris Bueller because he just wanted to see this show? Hmmm...
Saturday, August 2, 2008
Lollapalooza, Day One--Places Parallel Reports!
Hi everyone!
Sheesh, it's been one busy weekend! Sorry, we haven't been doing much of the "live blogging," but the schedule at Lolla has been pretty packed, with little downtime, and our time at Chez Maise has been rather...well, not exactly catastrophic, but definitely chaotic.
An explanation:
Iris and Mr. Iris were due to arrive at my place late Thursday night. Mr. Maise was working late that night. When I came home from work, I noticed that my garage door opener (my usual way of getting into the house) wasn't working, and I didn't have the front door key on me (long story). So I surmised that the power to the garage door had probably gone out, as there had been some heavy storms in the area that afternoon. I wound up having to call a locksmith to get me in the house, and an hour and a half and $160 later, I finally got in.
(By the way, dear readers, I think we should all train to be locksmiths. Now that is a sweet fucking racket. You do like five minutes of work and you can charge desperate people whatever the hell you want.)
So when I got in, I realized that precisely half of our home was without power. I contacted our local electric company, which actually sent technicians over much more promptly than expected. They determined that it wasn't a power outage on their end, and it wasn't our breaker box, but rather it was the wiring between the meter and the breaker. Hence, we were going to have to call an electrician. At this point, I lay catatonic on the couch, imagining the thousands of dollars this was surely to cost us. Plus, I had out-of-state houseguests on the way, and we had no TV, no internet, no fridge, and, worst of all, no AC when the weather has been pushing 90.
The next day, the first day of Lollapalooza, we were stuck at Chez Maise til approximately 3 p.m., waiting for the electrician to make a temporary repair ($445, with more to come!), but at least, as of this writing, we have full power and AIR CONDITIONING. So we were off!
When one arrives at Lollapalooza on Day One, there's a lot of nonsense involved, getting one's bracelet for the weekend (this year, it's an annoying coarse cloth bracelet that can't be removed for three days), getting one's beer bracelet, making sure group members go to the bathroom and get food and/or drinks, meeting up with other friends via text messages with iffy reception, and figuring out whom to see when. This is the reason that when the Maises and the Irises arrived at 4-ish, we only wound up seeing two acts that night. I was highly dissappointed that we didn't make it for Gogol Bordello because I have heard excellent things about them. But fortunately, Ro saw a lot more bands than we did, and she should soon be able to fill in the gaps.
This year, they have a beer garden, charmingly named "Lederhosen's," with picnic tables under shady trees. This has proved to be a good meeting point. We met a friend of mine, "Paul," who was already completely wasted by the time we arrived. Paul and another friend, "Neil," wound up making a $10 bet to see who could smuggle in the highest number of sandwiches the following day. You see, at Lollapalooza, one is allowed to bring in two liter-sized factory-sealed water bottles and nothing else food- or drink-related. So if you want sustenance during the weekend, you'll have to pay. Therefore, Paul and Neil plotted to smuggle sandwiches in their pants, and we spent a considerable amount of time establishing the rules of this contest: 1) No poisonous ingredients; 2) The sandwiches must contain something between slices of bread; 3) The sandwiches MUST be contained in sealed Ziploc bags, or no one would eat them. We agreed to be the judges, and Paul and Neil shook on it. The results of The Sandwich Showdown of 2008? To be continued...on Day 2!
When we *finally* got ourselves together, we went, on Paul's insistence, to see Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks. I have friends who are positively obsessed with Malkmus from his work with Pavement. My review of his current material? Meh. It might have strong indie cred, what with their new drummer being Janet Weiss from Sleater-Kinney and all, but it sounded like hippie jam music to me. And I hate hippie jam music. In addition, I was surrounded by a huge cloud of pot smoke and people like the dancing hippie chick in a string bikini, huge sunglasses, a headband and two braids. Hm, you wanna wear some clothes next time you go to Lollapalooza, honey? Off of his latest album, 2008's "Real Emotional Trash," I know that he played "Dragonfly Pie" and "Elmo Delmo." Other than that, not too familiar with the Jicks, sorry. If I could turn back time, like Cher, I would probably have chosen to watch CSS, who seemed to be fun, energetic and punky.
The day went by so quickly, the next act was the night's headliner, Radiohead! This was a much-anticipated concert for me, as I've been a Radiohead fan for years, but I've never been able to see them live before. My all-time favorite Radiohead album is The Bends, and truthfully, I wish they weren't *so* critically acclaimed that they didn't feel as though they could completely abandon intelligible lyrics. However, their continued genius cannot be denied.
There was a veritable sea of humanity assembled for this concert, and we weren't among those who had camped out in front of the stage since 2 a.m. that morning, so it was very difficult to see anything other than the large screens next to the stage. They had a breathtaking set and lighting, though. Absolutely gorgeous.
Strangely enough, they also had a sign language translator on one side of the stage? It's nice of Thom and the boys to acknowledge our hearing-impaired friends, but fuck, I don't have the slightest idea what he's saying or singing at any given time. How do you translate when, as Iris puts it, Thom Yorke is imitating whale calls?
I was having a hard time feeling personally connected to the show because we were so far away, there were so many people, I couldn't really see anything, and we were outdoors with all sorts of distractions, like a nearby fireworks show (unrelated to Lolla) being held at Solider Field. I think had we been indoors, in perhaps the Allstate Arena, I would have been mesmerized. But in this setting, I was only reminded of the claustrophobia, the sweltering heat, the distressing conditions of the port-a-potties at the end of the day, and my hunger (as a drunken Paul ate half of my bratwurst earlier). Here's a perfect example: I should have been enchanted and transported during "No Surprises," but instead my drunk husband was recounting a tale of discovering some rotting dead body at work (don't worry, he's in law enforcement) and was describing his superiors puking at the sight of maggots and flies. Goddammit.
I wish that I had gotten around, as I had wanted to do, to purchasing "In Rainbows," as I think I would have been much more familiar with the setlist. Again, I prefer their earlier angst to their current experimentation. So I was thrilled to hear "The Bends," "Fake Plastic Trees," and "Paranoid Android."
I'm also a huge fan of Kid A, so I was very excited to hear "Everything in Its Right Place," "The National Anthem," "Optimistic," and "Idioteque." However, Thom Yorke was VERY off-key this evening (is that typical for him live?), so it was really heartbreaking to hear him miss those high notes on some of my favorite songs.
Ultimately, Radiohead put on an excellent show, but I don't know if Lollapalooza is really the right venue for them. Truthfully, the perfect venue for them is my car, on the way to work. But when you're playing the last show of the day at the end of a 10-hour marathon in 90-degree heat, the average Radiohead set just feels sooooo exhausting. Listening to these slow, atmospheric songs, I was so much more aware of my sore feet and fatigue Friday, and I put in a much shorter day than today (Saturday). But then, you all know I'm a whiny bitch.
MORE TO COME...
Iris has videos and pics, of course. We'll get some of the pics up now, but the videos may have to wait a couple of days. Stay tuned! In the meantime, you can check out pics here.
Sheesh, it's been one busy weekend! Sorry, we haven't been doing much of the "live blogging," but the schedule at Lolla has been pretty packed, with little downtime, and our time at Chez Maise has been rather...well, not exactly catastrophic, but definitely chaotic.
An explanation:
Iris and Mr. Iris were due to arrive at my place late Thursday night. Mr. Maise was working late that night. When I came home from work, I noticed that my garage door opener (my usual way of getting into the house) wasn't working, and I didn't have the front door key on me (long story). So I surmised that the power to the garage door had probably gone out, as there had been some heavy storms in the area that afternoon. I wound up having to call a locksmith to get me in the house, and an hour and a half and $160 later, I finally got in.
(By the way, dear readers, I think we should all train to be locksmiths. Now that is a sweet fucking racket. You do like five minutes of work and you can charge desperate people whatever the hell you want.)
So when I got in, I realized that precisely half of our home was without power. I contacted our local electric company, which actually sent technicians over much more promptly than expected. They determined that it wasn't a power outage on their end, and it wasn't our breaker box, but rather it was the wiring between the meter and the breaker. Hence, we were going to have to call an electrician. At this point, I lay catatonic on the couch, imagining the thousands of dollars this was surely to cost us. Plus, I had out-of-state houseguests on the way, and we had no TV, no internet, no fridge, and, worst of all, no AC when the weather has been pushing 90.
The next day, the first day of Lollapalooza, we were stuck at Chez Maise til approximately 3 p.m., waiting for the electrician to make a temporary repair ($445, with more to come!), but at least, as of this writing, we have full power and AIR CONDITIONING. So we were off!
When one arrives at Lollapalooza on Day One, there's a lot of nonsense involved, getting one's bracelet for the weekend (this year, it's an annoying coarse cloth bracelet that can't be removed for three days), getting one's beer bracelet, making sure group members go to the bathroom and get food and/or drinks, meeting up with other friends via text messages with iffy reception, and figuring out whom to see when. This is the reason that when the Maises and the Irises arrived at 4-ish, we only wound up seeing two acts that night. I was highly dissappointed that we didn't make it for Gogol Bordello because I have heard excellent things about them. But fortunately, Ro saw a lot more bands than we did, and she should soon be able to fill in the gaps.
This year, they have a beer garden, charmingly named "Lederhosen's," with picnic tables under shady trees. This has proved to be a good meeting point. We met a friend of mine, "Paul," who was already completely wasted by the time we arrived. Paul and another friend, "Neil," wound up making a $10 bet to see who could smuggle in the highest number of sandwiches the following day. You see, at Lollapalooza, one is allowed to bring in two liter-sized factory-sealed water bottles and nothing else food- or drink-related. So if you want sustenance during the weekend, you'll have to pay. Therefore, Paul and Neil plotted to smuggle sandwiches in their pants, and we spent a considerable amount of time establishing the rules of this contest: 1) No poisonous ingredients; 2) The sandwiches must contain something between slices of bread; 3) The sandwiches MUST be contained in sealed Ziploc bags, or no one would eat them. We agreed to be the judges, and Paul and Neil shook on it. The results of The Sandwich Showdown of 2008? To be continued...on Day 2!
When we *finally* got ourselves together, we went, on Paul's insistence, to see Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks. I have friends who are positively obsessed with Malkmus from his work with Pavement. My review of his current material? Meh. It might have strong indie cred, what with their new drummer being Janet Weiss from Sleater-Kinney and all, but it sounded like hippie jam music to me. And I hate hippie jam music. In addition, I was surrounded by a huge cloud of pot smoke and people like the dancing hippie chick in a string bikini, huge sunglasses, a headband and two braids. Hm, you wanna wear some clothes next time you go to Lollapalooza, honey? Off of his latest album, 2008's "Real Emotional Trash," I know that he played "Dragonfly Pie" and "Elmo Delmo." Other than that, not too familiar with the Jicks, sorry. If I could turn back time, like Cher, I would probably have chosen to watch CSS, who seemed to be fun, energetic and punky.
The day went by so quickly, the next act was the night's headliner, Radiohead! This was a much-anticipated concert for me, as I've been a Radiohead fan for years, but I've never been able to see them live before. My all-time favorite Radiohead album is The Bends, and truthfully, I wish they weren't *so* critically acclaimed that they didn't feel as though they could completely abandon intelligible lyrics. However, their continued genius cannot be denied.
There was a veritable sea of humanity assembled for this concert, and we weren't among those who had camped out in front of the stage since 2 a.m. that morning, so it was very difficult to see anything other than the large screens next to the stage. They had a breathtaking set and lighting, though. Absolutely gorgeous.
Strangely enough, they also had a sign language translator on one side of the stage? It's nice of Thom and the boys to acknowledge our hearing-impaired friends, but fuck, I don't have the slightest idea what he's saying or singing at any given time. How do you translate when, as Iris puts it, Thom Yorke is imitating whale calls?
I was having a hard time feeling personally connected to the show because we were so far away, there were so many people, I couldn't really see anything, and we were outdoors with all sorts of distractions, like a nearby fireworks show (unrelated to Lolla) being held at Solider Field. I think had we been indoors, in perhaps the Allstate Arena, I would have been mesmerized. But in this setting, I was only reminded of the claustrophobia, the sweltering heat, the distressing conditions of the port-a-potties at the end of the day, and my hunger (as a drunken Paul ate half of my bratwurst earlier). Here's a perfect example: I should have been enchanted and transported during "No Surprises," but instead my drunk husband was recounting a tale of discovering some rotting dead body at work (don't worry, he's in law enforcement) and was describing his superiors puking at the sight of maggots and flies. Goddammit.
I wish that I had gotten around, as I had wanted to do, to purchasing "In Rainbows," as I think I would have been much more familiar with the setlist. Again, I prefer their earlier angst to their current experimentation. So I was thrilled to hear "The Bends," "Fake Plastic Trees," and "Paranoid Android."
I'm also a huge fan of Kid A, so I was very excited to hear "Everything in Its Right Place," "The National Anthem," "Optimistic," and "Idioteque." However, Thom Yorke was VERY off-key this evening (is that typical for him live?), so it was really heartbreaking to hear him miss those high notes on some of my favorite songs.
Ultimately, Radiohead put on an excellent show, but I don't know if Lollapalooza is really the right venue for them. Truthfully, the perfect venue for them is my car, on the way to work. But when you're playing the last show of the day at the end of a 10-hour marathon in 90-degree heat, the average Radiohead set just feels sooooo exhausting. Listening to these slow, atmospheric songs, I was so much more aware of my sore feet and fatigue Friday, and I put in a much shorter day than today (Saturday). But then, you all know I'm a whiny bitch.
MORE TO COME...
Iris has videos and pics, of course. We'll get some of the pics up now, but the videos may have to wait a couple of days. Stay tuned! In the meantime, you can check out pics here.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
T Minus 3 Days and Counting...
It's now just three days before Lolla kicks off and the excitement is damned near palpable here at Casa de Iris. The camera batteries are fully charged, the memory card has been cleared off, clean underpants have been packed...in short, we are SO ready to be rocked.
I've been keeping an eye on NIN.com which has resumed photoblogging from the road and what I've seen there has me seriously pumped up. The stage production looks fantastic! It seems as though we're going to get the setup that was lacking in Vienna last year. That's not to say that Trent and Co. didn't give it 110% with the performances we attended but the "Year Zero tour" took such a minimalist approach to stage aesthetics in the beginning. I suppose the idea was to echo the dystopian future laid out in the ARG storyline but damn man, a couple of swinging lamps does not a stage production make. Although...Cardboard_Trent was comedic gold.
So anyhow, I've been trying not to read too many concert reviews because I still want to be surprised at our show on Sunday but that's proving difficult since my curiosity is piqued. While poking around the Ninternets tonight I came across a radio interview Trent did recently for Q101 in Chicago.
For those who can't listen right off, Trent teases us about a possible collaboration between himself and Saul this weekend, hints at a secret project still in the works with Year Zero along the lines of a TV/internet series, and generally talks about his current situation as a free agent and what it's entailed for him thus far. He even cracks a joke about no longer needing sleep now that he's 70 years old after the interviewer brings up the fact that NIN is nearing its 20 year inception anniversary. Really? 20 years? I think that would bring him up in Rock-n-Roll Hall of Fame eligibility age. But that's another story for another day.
If you're having trouble keeping up with the rapid fire, nightly photo updates you can check the unofficial NIN.com Blog & Media Archive. It can take a few hours from the time a picture is first posted on NIN.com but they usually have everything archived by the next morning.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Maise Fights the Power Backstage with Public Enemy at Pitchfork 2008...
(Note: JR, this is just going to be one big disappointment for you as I really don't have a ton to say about your favorite bands. When I was working, I couldn't really pay much attention to Sebadoh, and I don't know enough about Dinosaur Jr. to produce a competent review of their show. You're just going to have to get tickets next time your dream lineup all plays together, hon. Or you can check out Pitchfork to read about the festival from people who know what they're talking about.)
I wasn't even initially planning on attending the Pitchfork Music Festival this year. I had gone once before with a good friend and found the whole affair rather dull; they normally book obscure indie bands that I've never heard of before, and the whole park is filled with the world's most unfuckable male hipsters. Not that I need to fuck any male hipsters, as I'm married, but if I'm going to be outdoors on a hot summer day, exposed to the elements, in the middle of a large crowd, I'd rather look at fuckable people. Male hipsters seem to be purposely attempting to repel the opposite sex. They tend to have poor hygiene and bad facial hair, and half of them are skinnier than the average supermodel, and they're wearing girl jeans. Swear to God.
Earlier this spring, I received an email from a local pro-choice organization that offered members a chance to volunteer at Pitchfork. In return for my labor, the pro-choice organization would be able to staff a table at the festival and possibly get a donation. And volunteers would get free admission. So I thought, why not? I don't mind listening to obscure music if I don't have to pay for it, I generally enjoy hanging out at festivals, and I would be working for a good cause. I looked at the lineup and was excited to see that there were quite a few good acts playing this year. I mean, it was basically like JR's wet dream! And besides Sebadoh and Dinosaur Jr. and Public Enemy, there was also Jarvis Cocker and Apples in Stereo (who I don't really know that well, except they do that cute Powerpuff Girls song) and,most exciting for me, Spoon.
So I arrived at the volunteer booth, despite the fact that the workweek had me really tired out and the weather was threatening. Fortunately, the skies cleared up and I gained my second wind as I donned my volunteer shirt. The volunteer coordinator asked who, among a group of us, would like to work the stage? "I like stages," I replied. So then I was told that I would be assigned to Public Enemy, which had me chuckling all evening, as I contemplated this highly acclaimed, controversial, pioneer hip-hop group relying on the least formidable white girl on the planet for protection.
I was stationed outside of the artist check-in area with two other security guards, "Michelle" and "Jason." It was a little lonely, as Michelle and Jason obviously knew each other very well and weren't terribly interested in getting to know me, this dorky older white woman. You see, I like to walk through life assuming that everyone is at least 30, but sometimes you meet actual 21-year-olds and discover that this isn't the case. And beyond some chit-chat about The Dark Knight, I felt really awkward until later on in the evening when we bonded over the free Chipotle I brought them with my volunteer privileges. (Apparently Chipotle fed volunteers for free, but not the security staff, which sucks, imo.)
But I didn't have a lot of time to contemplate my lack of charisma because even though we were stationed away from the main entrance, we still had a lot of people to direct. People looking for Will Call, people looking for the press entrance, people who paid extra for their tickets looking for the VIP entrance, people looking for the vendor entrance...I cheerfully guided them all, except for the vendors...I still don't really know where the hell they were supposed to go. (Training for this event consisted mostly of "Stand over there by those security guards.") So that's what I was doing when Mission of Burma and Sebadoh was playing: "No, you can't come in this way; go around the corner to Ashland and Lake...Nope, you have to go to Ashland...the VIP entrance is at the end of the block to your left...I don't know where you're supposed to go, sir, but it's not here..." I just couldn't really concentrate on the music that much. But apparently Mission of Burma played "VS" in its entirety, and Sebadoh played all of "Bubble and Scrape."
As far as people who actually wanted to enter the artist check-in, they were supposed to have a laminated pass and matching wristband, which I was prepared to enforce in a brutal totalitarian manner. However, security is a more subtle business. Consider, for example, the crewmember who says, "But my pass is inside"? I would look helplessly at my security guard companions, and a lot of times, they would just let the person through. Other times, they were ready to tackle the person. Basically, whatever I was doing was wrong. If I was giving a person the third degree, then that was typically someone very important who was personal friends with _____ and should be let in immediately without question. If I was ready to wave someone through, Michelle and Jason were at Defcon 1. I felt rather incompetent at moments like these and turned to what I knew best. "The main entrance is on Ashland...the press entrance is by the volunteer booth on Ashland and Lake..."
So that aspect of the job was all very tedious, but what made it worth it was being told by Mike, whose precise title I don't know but he was very busy and carried a clipboard so I think he was really important to the festival, that the artists would be driven through our area to the check-in. We were expecting to see Public Enemy (of course), Sebadoh (who I never saw...sorry, JR!), Animal Collective (whom I've never heard of), and Spoon (who was scheduled to play on Sunday but just wanted to watch Public Enemy that evening). The artists were driven in by staff members either in large blue vans with tinted windows or little Zip cars (cars that you can easily rent in the city).
Public Enemy arrived with about 7,000 people in their entourage. Seeing Chuck D left me with a sense of "Eeeeeee!" They were too far away to actually speak to, but I totally gawked. I saw an impossibly tall and skinny blonde guy getting out of another van and realized that this was Britt Daniel, the lead singer of Spoon, whom I have a mild crush on. I cursed my inherent frumpiness and the unflattering bright yellow t-shirt I had to wear.
Flavor Flav arrived separately, as he was getting mobbed in his hotel lobby. Flavor Flav does not travel incognito, btw. I was informed that Flavor always travels with a driver and a personal assistant, and festival organizers seemed concerned that he would show up with other random individuals, a fear that was not totally unreasonable, as I found.
I've decided that Flavor Flav is my new favorite celebrity. You know why? He's not the kind of person who attains wealth and fame and then bitches about how miserable he is and how he wishes everyone would just leave him alone. No, Flavor was BORN to be a star. He clearly loves all of the attention, and more power to him. He was dressed in a loud shirt and of course had the clock around his neck, but no Viking helmet, I'm afraid. My security guard companions were completely starstruck. "I have loved that man since I was born!" cried Michelle. At one point, Flavor left the festival grounds to walk down the block and returned with an even larger entourage than the one he arrived with. I know this because part of his entourage emerged from the artist check-in area giggling and looking at the pictures they had taken. So clearly Flavor just picked these girls up off the street. Anyone can hang out with Flavor Flav!
And I do mean anyone. The highlight of the evening for me was being approached by an older white gentleman, who appeared to be in his 70s or so. He was dressed in a yellow leisure suit and was covered in bling. Platinum and gold rings on every finger...an enormous gold "LA" pendant around his neck. He tells Jason and me, "I need to get in there. I'm a good friend of Flavor's. I've known him for years." Of course, he didn't have a pass. But I looked at him and thought, "He probably DOES know Flavor Flav." Jason took him to the Artist Check-In Table, and apparently he got through. Huh.
After all this, Public Enemy finally took the stage. It was my first time...um...hearing them live (I couldn't see a thing from where I was standing), and I wasn't disappointed. They brought incredible energy to Union Park, energy that never flagged even though their set lasted 40 minutes longer than planned. I suspected they were waiting for the police to dramatically shut them down, but that never really materialized. They apparently played all of "It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back" and more.
Of course, blogger Bryon Crawford has a dramatically different take on the show than me, but he seems to know a lot more about Public Enemy than I do and could actually see what was going on. And Flavor, you fame whore, I still love you.
As Public Enemy finished up their set, Spoon decided to check out a bit early. I was inches--MERE INCHES--from the entire band as they walked past me. I smiled at them, but they didn't notice me. Alas. But they seemed to be in a good mood and my God, they're all really skinny. Like their legs are skinnier than my arm. It's kind of depressing.
I was really exhausted standing for 6+ hours in the heat, so I took Saturday off. Even though that was technically my "free" day. And by the time I made it to the festival on Sunday (I had some previous plans to attend to), I really just had the chance to see Dinosaur Jr. and Spoon. Like I said, I don't know enough about Dinosaur Jr. to provide a decent review. (I really am the worst Pitchfork correspondent ever.) And when they were on, I was meeting up with friends, trying to hydrate, etc.
Spoon put on an excellent--but SHORT--show. "Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga" is my favorite album of theirs, and I was happy to hear "Don't Make Me a Target," "You Got Your Cherry Bomb," "The Underdog," "The Ghost of You Lingers" and "Rhthm and Soul" (my personal favorite). Unfortunately they could only play an hour, explaining that other bands had played longer, but Pitchfork was kind of getting in trouble for it. I kind of wish they had been scheduled to start at 8:30, but on the other hand, I didn't mind getting home a little early since I had work the next morning.
So Pitchfork 2008 was pretty much the same as I had previously experienced--a lot of bands I had never heard of before and completely unfuckable men. But I had a wonderful time seeing things from behind the scenes, and I would work as a volunteer again in a heartbeat.
Now that I read this over, I realize that this is the shittiest review ever...but just you wait til Lollapalooza 2008! Not only do I actually know many of the bands, but Iris will be accompanying me and providing us with her fantastic pics and vids, as usual. We'll try to live-blog as much as possible, depending on who's hogging the computers in their air conditioned high-tech tent.
Stay tuned!
I wasn't even initially planning on attending the Pitchfork Music Festival this year. I had gone once before with a good friend and found the whole affair rather dull; they normally book obscure indie bands that I've never heard of before, and the whole park is filled with the world's most unfuckable male hipsters. Not that I need to fuck any male hipsters, as I'm married, but if I'm going to be outdoors on a hot summer day, exposed to the elements, in the middle of a large crowd, I'd rather look at fuckable people. Male hipsters seem to be purposely attempting to repel the opposite sex. They tend to have poor hygiene and bad facial hair, and half of them are skinnier than the average supermodel, and they're wearing girl jeans. Swear to God.
Earlier this spring, I received an email from a local pro-choice organization that offered members a chance to volunteer at Pitchfork. In return for my labor, the pro-choice organization would be able to staff a table at the festival and possibly get a donation. And volunteers would get free admission. So I thought, why not? I don't mind listening to obscure music if I don't have to pay for it, I generally enjoy hanging out at festivals, and I would be working for a good cause. I looked at the lineup and was excited to see that there were quite a few good acts playing this year. I mean, it was basically like JR's wet dream! And besides Sebadoh and Dinosaur Jr. and Public Enemy, there was also Jarvis Cocker and Apples in Stereo (who I don't really know that well, except they do that cute Powerpuff Girls song) and,most exciting for me, Spoon.
So I arrived at the volunteer booth, despite the fact that the workweek had me really tired out and the weather was threatening. Fortunately, the skies cleared up and I gained my second wind as I donned my volunteer shirt. The volunteer coordinator asked who, among a group of us, would like to work the stage? "I like stages," I replied. So then I was told that I would be assigned to Public Enemy, which had me chuckling all evening, as I contemplated this highly acclaimed, controversial, pioneer hip-hop group relying on the least formidable white girl on the planet for protection.
I was stationed outside of the artist check-in area with two other security guards, "Michelle" and "Jason." It was a little lonely, as Michelle and Jason obviously knew each other very well and weren't terribly interested in getting to know me, this dorky older white woman. You see, I like to walk through life assuming that everyone is at least 30, but sometimes you meet actual 21-year-olds and discover that this isn't the case. And beyond some chit-chat about The Dark Knight, I felt really awkward until later on in the evening when we bonded over the free Chipotle I brought them with my volunteer privileges. (Apparently Chipotle fed volunteers for free, but not the security staff, which sucks, imo.)
But I didn't have a lot of time to contemplate my lack of charisma because even though we were stationed away from the main entrance, we still had a lot of people to direct. People looking for Will Call, people looking for the press entrance, people who paid extra for their tickets looking for the VIP entrance, people looking for the vendor entrance...I cheerfully guided them all, except for the vendors...I still don't really know where the hell they were supposed to go. (Training for this event consisted mostly of "Stand over there by those security guards.") So that's what I was doing when Mission of Burma and Sebadoh was playing: "No, you can't come in this way; go around the corner to Ashland and Lake...Nope, you have to go to Ashland...the VIP entrance is at the end of the block to your left...I don't know where you're supposed to go, sir, but it's not here..." I just couldn't really concentrate on the music that much. But apparently Mission of Burma played "VS" in its entirety, and Sebadoh played all of "Bubble and Scrape."
As far as people who actually wanted to enter the artist check-in, they were supposed to have a laminated pass and matching wristband, which I was prepared to enforce in a brutal totalitarian manner. However, security is a more subtle business. Consider, for example, the crewmember who says, "But my pass is inside"? I would look helplessly at my security guard companions, and a lot of times, they would just let the person through. Other times, they were ready to tackle the person. Basically, whatever I was doing was wrong. If I was giving a person the third degree, then that was typically someone very important who was personal friends with _____ and should be let in immediately without question. If I was ready to wave someone through, Michelle and Jason were at Defcon 1. I felt rather incompetent at moments like these and turned to what I knew best. "The main entrance is on Ashland...the press entrance is by the volunteer booth on Ashland and Lake..."
So that aspect of the job was all very tedious, but what made it worth it was being told by Mike, whose precise title I don't know but he was very busy and carried a clipboard so I think he was really important to the festival, that the artists would be driven through our area to the check-in. We were expecting to see Public Enemy (of course), Sebadoh (who I never saw...sorry, JR!), Animal Collective (whom I've never heard of), and Spoon (who was scheduled to play on Sunday but just wanted to watch Public Enemy that evening). The artists were driven in by staff members either in large blue vans with tinted windows or little Zip cars (cars that you can easily rent in the city).
Public Enemy arrived with about 7,000 people in their entourage. Seeing Chuck D left me with a sense of "Eeeeeee!" They were too far away to actually speak to, but I totally gawked. I saw an impossibly tall and skinny blonde guy getting out of another van and realized that this was Britt Daniel, the lead singer of Spoon, whom I have a mild crush on. I cursed my inherent frumpiness and the unflattering bright yellow t-shirt I had to wear.
Flavor Flav arrived separately, as he was getting mobbed in his hotel lobby. Flavor Flav does not travel incognito, btw. I was informed that Flavor always travels with a driver and a personal assistant, and festival organizers seemed concerned that he would show up with other random individuals, a fear that was not totally unreasonable, as I found.
I've decided that Flavor Flav is my new favorite celebrity. You know why? He's not the kind of person who attains wealth and fame and then bitches about how miserable he is and how he wishes everyone would just leave him alone. No, Flavor was BORN to be a star. He clearly loves all of the attention, and more power to him. He was dressed in a loud shirt and of course had the clock around his neck, but no Viking helmet, I'm afraid. My security guard companions were completely starstruck. "I have loved that man since I was born!" cried Michelle. At one point, Flavor left the festival grounds to walk down the block and returned with an even larger entourage than the one he arrived with. I know this because part of his entourage emerged from the artist check-in area giggling and looking at the pictures they had taken. So clearly Flavor just picked these girls up off the street. Anyone can hang out with Flavor Flav!
And I do mean anyone. The highlight of the evening for me was being approached by an older white gentleman, who appeared to be in his 70s or so. He was dressed in a yellow leisure suit and was covered in bling. Platinum and gold rings on every finger...an enormous gold "LA" pendant around his neck. He tells Jason and me, "I need to get in there. I'm a good friend of Flavor's. I've known him for years." Of course, he didn't have a pass. But I looked at him and thought, "He probably DOES know Flavor Flav." Jason took him to the Artist Check-In Table, and apparently he got through. Huh.
After all this, Public Enemy finally took the stage. It was my first time...um...hearing them live (I couldn't see a thing from where I was standing), and I wasn't disappointed. They brought incredible energy to Union Park, energy that never flagged even though their set lasted 40 minutes longer than planned. I suspected they were waiting for the police to dramatically shut them down, but that never really materialized. They apparently played all of "It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back" and more.
Of course, blogger Bryon Crawford has a dramatically different take on the show than me, but he seems to know a lot more about Public Enemy than I do and could actually see what was going on. And Flavor, you fame whore, I still love you.
As Public Enemy finished up their set, Spoon decided to check out a bit early. I was inches--MERE INCHES--from the entire band as they walked past me. I smiled at them, but they didn't notice me. Alas. But they seemed to be in a good mood and my God, they're all really skinny. Like their legs are skinnier than my arm. It's kind of depressing.
I was really exhausted standing for 6+ hours in the heat, so I took Saturday off. Even though that was technically my "free" day. And by the time I made it to the festival on Sunday (I had some previous plans to attend to), I really just had the chance to see Dinosaur Jr. and Spoon. Like I said, I don't know enough about Dinosaur Jr. to provide a decent review. (I really am the worst Pitchfork correspondent ever.) And when they were on, I was meeting up with friends, trying to hydrate, etc.
Spoon put on an excellent--but SHORT--show. "Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga" is my favorite album of theirs, and I was happy to hear "Don't Make Me a Target," "You Got Your Cherry Bomb," "The Underdog," "The Ghost of You Lingers" and "Rhthm and Soul" (my personal favorite). Unfortunately they could only play an hour, explaining that other bands had played longer, but Pitchfork was kind of getting in trouble for it. I kind of wish they had been scheduled to start at 8:30, but on the other hand, I didn't mind getting home a little early since I had work the next morning.
So Pitchfork 2008 was pretty much the same as I had previously experienced--a lot of bands I had never heard of before and completely unfuckable men. But I had a wonderful time seeing things from behind the scenes, and I would work as a volunteer again in a heartbeat.
Now that I read this over, I realize that this is the shittiest review ever...but just you wait til Lollapalooza 2008! Not only do I actually know many of the bands, but Iris will be accompanying me and providing us with her fantastic pics and vids, as usual. We'll try to live-blog as much as possible, depending on who's hogging the computers in their air conditioned high-tech tent.
Stay tuned!
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Oh, How the Mighty Have Fallen?
As longtime readers of Places Parallel may know, I have a love/hate relationship with Billy Corgan.
Love, because the Smashing Pumpkins dominated the soundtrack of my college youth, and the undeniable power and genius of Siamese Dream as well as the giddy creativity of Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness have long outlived the flannel shirts and professional angst of other '90s acts. (And for the record, Adore was extremely underrated, imo.) Billy Corgan was also important to me as a local boy made good. When Billy hit the pinnacle of his fame, I was trapped in the blue collar, closed-minded region of Northwest Indiana. It was so close to Chicago, geographically and mentally, that you could go to one of the beaches in Gary, not too far from the smokestacks of the steel mills and oil refineries, and just across Lake Michigan, you could make out the lights of the Chicago skyline...so close, you could almost touch it, and then it was curfew time. Bah! It was easy to think of Billy as one of us...an artist, sensitive, misunderstood, who clawed his way to the top--not just in Chicago, but all over the world.
Hate, because since the breakup of the Pumpkins, Billy has seemed more of an infomercial charlatan with a lot of product to push than the silver-pants-clad rock god of my not-so-distant memory. After a forgettable little project with ugly cover art called Zwan and some disappointing solo efforts (some bad poetry, an album that no one bought), Billy "reunited" (a term I take strong issue with, considering that no one named James Iha or D'arcy Wretzky is involved) the Smashing Pumpkins and proceeded with Project "Exploit the Die-Hard Fans." You can read my prior complaints here, but mostly I was dismayed at Billy releasing about 7,000 versions of the same goddamn album, with one track available at Target and one track available at Best Buy and another track available in a limited edition Happy Meal at McDonald's. Just kidding about the latter, but maybe Billy is kicking himself for not thinking of that.
Also, I was pissed because the Pumpkins really seemed to go out of their way to avoid Chicago, their home town. Remember, Billy, how "the embers never fade, in the city by the lake"? My previous post was written in June 2007, and as of nearly August 2008, the Smashing Pumpkins have STILL not deigned to visit the Windy City.
But according to an email message I recently received, they will be visiting the city of MY birth, Hammond, Indiana. On Saturday, August 9, they will be playing at The Venue at the Horseshoe Casino. They're opening their tour...at a Northwest Indiana...casino? Unless one is playing Vegas, performing at a casino smacks of a lack of dignity. However, Mr. Maise did point out that I was being a snob. The newly built Venue appears to have cost an awful lot of money and is supposed to be a state-of-the-art...um, venue. And maybe Mr. Maise is right. Maybe I *am* being a snob. After all, the Stone Temple Pilots aren't too good for The Venue. Neither is Bette Midler. Or Lynryd Skynyrd. Or Billy Idol.
But what really gets me is the fact that to see this half-ass reunion of the Smashing Pumpkins at a Northwest Indiana casino will cost one $83/ticket (not including Ticketmaster fees). Oh, Billy, really?!! The people of Northwest Indiana (or as we affectionately refer to ourselves, the "Region rats") are, by necessity, extremely thrifty. I really can't imagine, in a recession, people in NWI lining up to pay $83/person to hear half of a famous band from the '90s play a lot of tracks from an album that no one bought (or maybe a few people bought 10 times each). Hell, I'm no laid-off steel mill worker, but I don't spend $83 per ticket on a show unless it's really fucking good. I think the last time I paid that much was for the Police, and shit, I waited like 25 years for that show and got all three of them!
I guess there will be some sort of 20th Anniversary show scheduled in Chicago--finally! No one yet knows what that will entail...a sold-out crowd at a teeny-tiny venue, like the Metro? Bombastic arena rock, like in the Mellon Collie days? But is it too little, too late after all of the missteps of the previous year?
Maybe I'm the only one troubled by these issues in the first place. The thing is, as much as I'm hating, I do kind of want to see the Smashing Pumpkins again. I can forgive. But there would have to be a lot more rock and a lot less exploitation of the common fan.
Love, because the Smashing Pumpkins dominated the soundtrack of my college youth, and the undeniable power and genius of Siamese Dream as well as the giddy creativity of Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness have long outlived the flannel shirts and professional angst of other '90s acts. (And for the record, Adore was extremely underrated, imo.) Billy Corgan was also important to me as a local boy made good. When Billy hit the pinnacle of his fame, I was trapped in the blue collar, closed-minded region of Northwest Indiana. It was so close to Chicago, geographically and mentally, that you could go to one of the beaches in Gary, not too far from the smokestacks of the steel mills and oil refineries, and just across Lake Michigan, you could make out the lights of the Chicago skyline...so close, you could almost touch it, and then it was curfew time. Bah! It was easy to think of Billy as one of us...an artist, sensitive, misunderstood, who clawed his way to the top--not just in Chicago, but all over the world.
Hate, because since the breakup of the Pumpkins, Billy has seemed more of an infomercial charlatan with a lot of product to push than the silver-pants-clad rock god of my not-so-distant memory. After a forgettable little project with ugly cover art called Zwan and some disappointing solo efforts (some bad poetry, an album that no one bought), Billy "reunited" (a term I take strong issue with, considering that no one named James Iha or D'arcy Wretzky is involved) the Smashing Pumpkins and proceeded with Project "Exploit the Die-Hard Fans." You can read my prior complaints here, but mostly I was dismayed at Billy releasing about 7,000 versions of the same goddamn album, with one track available at Target and one track available at Best Buy and another track available in a limited edition Happy Meal at McDonald's. Just kidding about the latter, but maybe Billy is kicking himself for not thinking of that.
Also, I was pissed because the Pumpkins really seemed to go out of their way to avoid Chicago, their home town. Remember, Billy, how "the embers never fade, in the city by the lake"? My previous post was written in June 2007, and as of nearly August 2008, the Smashing Pumpkins have STILL not deigned to visit the Windy City.
But according to an email message I recently received, they will be visiting the city of MY birth, Hammond, Indiana. On Saturday, August 9, they will be playing at The Venue at the Horseshoe Casino. They're opening their tour...at a Northwest Indiana...casino? Unless one is playing Vegas, performing at a casino smacks of a lack of dignity. However, Mr. Maise did point out that I was being a snob. The newly built Venue appears to have cost an awful lot of money and is supposed to be a state-of-the-art...um, venue. And maybe Mr. Maise is right. Maybe I *am* being a snob. After all, the Stone Temple Pilots aren't too good for The Venue. Neither is Bette Midler. Or Lynryd Skynyrd. Or Billy Idol.
But what really gets me is the fact that to see this half-ass reunion of the Smashing Pumpkins at a Northwest Indiana casino will cost one $83/ticket (not including Ticketmaster fees). Oh, Billy, really?!! The people of Northwest Indiana (or as we affectionately refer to ourselves, the "Region rats") are, by necessity, extremely thrifty. I really can't imagine, in a recession, people in NWI lining up to pay $83/person to hear half of a famous band from the '90s play a lot of tracks from an album that no one bought (or maybe a few people bought 10 times each). Hell, I'm no laid-off steel mill worker, but I don't spend $83 per ticket on a show unless it's really fucking good. I think the last time I paid that much was for the Police, and shit, I waited like 25 years for that show and got all three of them!
I guess there will be some sort of 20th Anniversary show scheduled in Chicago--finally! No one yet knows what that will entail...a sold-out crowd at a teeny-tiny venue, like the Metro? Bombastic arena rock, like in the Mellon Collie days? But is it too little, too late after all of the missteps of the previous year?
Maybe I'm the only one troubled by these issues in the first place. The thing is, as much as I'm hating, I do kind of want to see the Smashing Pumpkins again. I can forgive. But there would have to be a lot more rock and a lot less exploitation of the common fan.
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