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Monday, May 31, 2004

Tired

I'm really tired. I was up at 8am; painted until 3:30pm; went to work until 10pm; went over to my girlfriend's for a bit; came home and watched the T-Wolves lose to the Lakers and now I'm going to bed (I still don't really know how to use semicolons either).

I'll elaborate in the morning.

James | 5/31/2004 09:09:00 PM

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Saturday, May 29, 2004

Done

I've got nothing to say about the T-Wolves game on Thursday because I didn't watch it or listen to much of it on the radio at work. I know from reading a couple of articles that Kobe had an enormous 3rd quarter, Shaq dominated in the paint (19 boards), and that the T-Wolves haven't found a replacement for the injured Sam Cassell. I think that injury (though the brilliance of Kobe and Shaq cannot be overlooked) represents the tipping point for the Lakers in this series. Even though Wally has filled in admirably, the Wolves just don't have a floor general that can rally the troops like Cassell did all season. The Wolves might steal tonight's game in the Target Center, but don't bet on them taking this series to a Game 7.

I didn't get that job. Another in a long line of disappontments. Oh well, here I come autistic kids. I suppose that Psychology degree is going to come in handy afterall.

I've got two days off of work to finish painting my house. Let's hope that it happens.

Anyone looking for something cool to do tonight should go to The MAC to see this show, which I'm sure is going to be incredible.

James | 5/29/2004 08:22:00 AM

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Thursday, May 27, 2004

I Forgot

If the T-Wolves do not win tonight they're as good as fucked.

James | 5/27/2004 08:40:00 AM

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Front Nine: 56; Back Nine: 43

Due to the (recently anyway) uncommonly nice day yesterday, I decided to call up some pals and play my first round of golf. So the pals and myself headed on over the Bridge to Nemadji for 18 glorious holes of golf.

I love golf. It is the one sport that I'm glad I took up at a relatively early age because of the difficulty that it poses to the beginner. As you can tell from the scores I'm anything but a consistant player, but can hold my own when I need to. And yesterday, for my first time out (no driving range, putting green or chipping green), I think I played very well. Ok, that front nine was pretty rough, but cut me some slack here. Once we made the turn my driver was finding the fairway and a chip here or a putt here and I probably would have played even par.

We split up into two teams on the first hole and played a skins game for a $1 a person per hole. Everyone played just about evenly, but in the end I hit a 15 foot putt to give my squad a 4 skin win.

All four of us celebrated by having an Anchor burger and a pitcher of beer afterwards.

In the end, I had many things to accomplish yesterday and I accomplished none of them.

Today, however, I've managed to clean my kitchen and mow the lawn. I've got a job interview at 12:30 for a neighboorhood coordinator position with the Duluth Housing Council(?).

I'm hopeful that I can get this job, but if not I think that I'm quite alright getting a mindless job driving autistic kids around town.

Whatever.

Playlist:
My Bloody Valentine-Loveless(cd)
Mclusky-The Difference Between Me And You Is That I'm Not On Fire(lp)

James | 5/27/2004 08:14:00 AM

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Wednesday, May 26, 2004

KG and Phish

Last night's T-Wolves/Lakers game was a gigantic missed opportunity for the Wolves. Despite the fact that he ended with 22 points, Kobe Bryant didn't score until almost midway through the [ED: sorry I meant 3rd] fourth quarter and still the Wolves were down the entire game. Combine that with Shaq missing nearly every free throw he took and the T-Wolves have got to be hanging their heads. Sczerbiak stepped up with a huge performance, Spree kept them in it with his threes down the stretch, and Cassell even added 18 points in limited action. I really hate to rag on a guy who had 22 points, 11 rebounds and 7 assists, but KG didn't put on an MVP calibur performance. Sure, a first team All-NBA performance, but not an MVP worthy one. Add to that the Wolves getting beat on the offensive and defensive boards, Derrick Martin (and not Cassell) taking a crucil three and it spells serious trouble for the Wolves in this series.

On a gambling note, the spread on this game was 8 1/2 points for the Wolves (for the rookies, that means the Lakers had to win by more than nine points for you to win money on them or, vice versa, if you bet on the Wolves they started the game with 8 1/2 points). Now, I'm not an avid sports gambler, but I thought that this was a no brainer bet. Fortunetely I completely forgot to call the bet in. I had a couple of friends that lost their asses on this game.

Also, the band Phish has broken up for good this time. This only merits mention because I've went to a couple of Phish shows in my teenage years. I never really liked the band, but a couple of my friends are die hards (we're talking bootlegs, shirts, touring, etc.) and I felt like tagging along for some summer road trips.

I never really understood the culture from the couple of shows I went to, because the music seemed almost secondary to getting fucked up. For me, concerts are always music first and almost everything else second. On the other hand, you could really feel a sense of community at those shows because--strangely enough with 50,000 people there--it always seemed that everyone knew each other.

Regardless, when I was out in Arizona and California with my friend Tim (one of the diehards) he mentioned that he was going to get some summer tickets. He lamented the fact that in recent years a large segment of Phish shows are frat guy/girls who have no interest in the music and just cause problems, but plans on going nonetheless. I wish him luck because I know he's probably bumming, along with the thousands of other Phisheads, right now. So it goes...

Playlist:
Scratch Radio

James | 5/26/2004 09:22:00 AM

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Tuesday, May 25, 2004

Hello Out There

Please do not be afraid to post a comment to this question. I've got a question for all you bloggers: If you type in the domain name of my blog do you get an "HTTP 404: Not Found" page? Please let me know in the comments, because it keeps happening to me. Another question: If you type in the domain name www.perfectsoundradio.com do you get redirected to my site? Thanks.

I also have to admit that I'm a real nerd and kind of a whore. While checking out The New Year's website the other day I found that they offer free stuff to people who put up posters and shit around their town--essentially a street team, but they're so indie they wouldn't dare call it a street team.

I figure, hey why not, I could use a free t-shirt or a vinyl copy of Newness Ends (my CD skips). Plus, I've been emailing the shit out of their booking person trying desperately to get them to play here (and only recently found out that Chris Brokaw, their drummer, is playing here on Saturday at The MAC)so maybe this way I'll get to be more persuesive.

Anyway, so after dropping them a line, who emails me back? None other than Bubba Kadane. Cool. He apologized that they wouldn't be able to make it up here on this tour, but left the possibility of a future show open. I took the time to describe The MAC and Luce so that he'd have a little bit of an idea (as well as all the other stuff going on in town) of Duluth. They haven't even played MPLS since the Bedhead days, so I'm not going to hold my breath or anything. So now I'm officially The New Year's bitch in exchange for a t-shirt and record. I kind of feel dirty, but at least it's The New Year and not Linkin Park

Playlist:
Oasis-Definitely Maybe(cd)
Oasis-What's the Story (Morning Glory)?(cd)
Oasis-Be Here Now(cd)

James | 5/25/2004 08:07:00 AM

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Monday, May 24, 2004

T-Wolves 89, Lakers 71

This game was for all the naysayers who predicted a Lakers sweep after a lackluster Game 1. Ha! The Wolves came out and played like an Eastern Conference team (see: 8 technicals in the 4th quarter!) last night, employing a gangbusters defense that held the Lakers to 36% field-goal shooting (though going 15 for 29 at the free throw line probably didn't help)--all without an injured Sam Cassell.

Even though the Wolves got beat on the boards they had 11 more assists than the Lakers and way more fire at both ends of the court. Spree came up big behind the 3-point arc, Wally had a great game and Derrick Martin threw in 16 points and 6 assists. KG stepped his game up too (even though there were stretches where he was almost non-existent), but there's still some room for improvement there. All in all, I think the T-Wolves proved what they had to in this game: that they're going battle the Lakers to the bitter end of this series. All I can say is that the refs had better take control early in Game 3 or else this thing could get really ugly. I also hope that Karl Malone's punk ass gets suspended one game for that cheap shot on Martin.

I watched the game at the Lakeview Castle, who have a great T-Wolves deal: $3.25 for a T-Wolves pint glass (you get to keep the glass) and $1.25 for refills. Needless to say, there was much fist pounding upon the bar, shouting and what not. There's my pitch--go to the Castle!

In other news, I've completed painting two bedrooms of my house and now it's on to the living and dining rooms. My dad (who admitted he enjoyed the Olivia Tremor Control I was playing) rolled the walls and now it's up to me to get the trim done.

Funny story: years ago when my mom lived in our house she spray painted a bunch of nasty things on the living room walls after a particularly nasty fight with my dad. The marriage ended soon after and my mom moved out leaving my dad, sister, and myself in the house.

My dad covered the spray painted walls up with Killz, primer, and paint so that me and my sister wouldn't be exposed to our mother's expletive laced outburst.

Well fast forward twenty or so years, now it's me living in the house and my dad has just rolled the living room walls with a coat of flat paint. All of a sudden he asks me if my friends had ever spray painted anything on the walls.

I reply that I don't think so, but we both watch as something that definitely resembles wording begins to appear on the North wall of the living room. I offer that maybe someone painted the walls with laundry detergent (one of those stoner/blacklight things that everyone does in college), but other than that I've got no idea.

We go about our work until about five minutes later when I look at the wall and read "I hope you die" clear as day. Then it dons on my dad where it came from. We both have a laugh and it eventually goes away once the paint drys.

My dad called my later in the day from his bar to tell me that he found some pictures that he took of the room before he painted over the spots. It was definitely from that unfortunate incident. I bet my dad had forgot all about that until today. I wonder if it still pains him to think about? Probably.

James | 5/24/2004 09:26:00 AM

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Saturday, May 22, 2004

Monster Clog

Well, a monster clog in one of my pipes that has left me showerless for three days now has confined me to my house for the evening. I've tried everything and there is still a pool of something nasty sitting in the bottom of my tub. I'm disappointed that I won't be able to check out Portrait of a Drown Man, because I just got a live CD they recorded at Beaner's Central a while back and really like it (great artwork too!). They've got a Mogwai sound to them, but you can tell that they're still a pretty young band. I can't believe I'm going to miss them again. Oh well.

While I was cleaning out one of my rooms to paint today I found two and a half cases of MGD that my old roommate left when he moved. I can't stand MGD and the cans were around two years old, so I brought them down to the liquor store, made 6-packs out of them and sold them for .50 apiece. They were gone in about half an hour. I used the proceeds to purchase a 12-pack of Grain Belt that's going to keep me company for the rest of the evening. Wey hey!

Playlist:
Portrait of a Drown Man-Live at Beaner's--1.02.04(cd)
Modern Lovers-The Original Modern Lovers(lp)
Minutemen-Double Nickels on the Dime(lp)
Olivia Tremor Control-Dusk at Cubist Castle(cd)
Pixies-Live at Indio, CA--5.01.04(cd)

James | 5/22/2004 08:39:00 PM

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A Must Buy

I've just purchased this book and I do believe you should as well.

In the meantime, go here (thanks Fluxblog!) for a medley of some truly perfect sounds that'll live on forever.

James | 5/22/2004 11:01:00 AM

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Lakers 97, T-Wolves 88

Due to my bosses taking away our television privileges, I had to listen to last night's game on the radio at work. To top that off, I didn't even get to listen to the fourth quarter because I went over to my girlfriend's house after work.

So there won't be any insightful commentary on Game 1, except to say that if the T-Wolves can't stop Shaq from having games like he did last night they're in trouble. If Sprewell can offset Kobe like he did last night, Olowokandi can throw down some double doubles and Cassell can play more than 32 minutes, the Wolves may not get swept. Also, 16 and 10 from KG is pretty paltry. The Wolves are going to need some 20/20 games (which I know is asking a lot) from KG to be competitive in games where Derek Fischer is throwing threes down like Hillside drunks throw down dollar forties and Shaq shoots 9 of 11 from the charity stripe.

Today I plan on spending the day painting the inside of my house with my dad before the new roommates move in June 1st. I was planning on going to Fargo to watch The Keep Aways compete in a Got Milk? Battle of the Bands, but my dad freaked when I told him.

Due to me staying in town, I think that checking out Portrait of a Drown Man at the TPB sounds like a pretty good option to get the evening started properly. After that some very good bands are playing at Luce, so I imagine I'll mosey on over there at some point.

Or not, since Fair-Weather Friend and Undesireables are also playing at TPB.

Either way it should be a good evening.

James | 5/22/2004 06:17:00 AM

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Friday, May 21, 2004

Bring it on Kobe

I'm back from the Cities. Barely.

Wednesday we all got to the Triple Rock at around 6:30pm and since there was an early hardcore show and the bar was packed, we decided to head over to Grumpy's on Washington and grab a couple hunks a burnin' grub. Miraculously we managed to score pretty good seats right in front of a tele for the start of the T-Wolves game. A cajun chicken sandwich, three bottles of PBR and a ten point Wolves lead at halftime later we headed back to the Triple Rock to load in the girls' gear.

I should say we headed back to the Triple Rock so the girls could load in their gear, because I selfishly stayed in the car glued to Chad Hartman and KFAN. Shit, in the time it took for us to go from Grumpy's to the Triple Rock, the Kings managed to extinguish the Wolves 13 point lead and go up by a couple themselves.

Luckily I'd procured a 1/2 pint of Seagram's 7 before the trip, which I nervously gulped, while the Wolves managed to take the lead for good a couple of minutes later.

I'll only say one more thing about the Wolves' Game 7: anyone who's ever questioned KG as a "clutch" player can now shut up. Like every other sportswriter/talking head worth his weight in Gatorade has mentioned, KG's performance on Wednesday will be remembered as one of the best ever in a Game. They've all missed a crucial caveat to that however: only if the Wolves make it to the Finals. There have been plenty of gutsy, Herculean efforts in playoff basketball (and KG's was definitely both), but it really means little unless the Wolves can get past the Lakers.

The show was the post-wrap party for this thing called the Flaming Fest. Some week-long festival celebrating gay culture with movies and workshops and all that jazz. The night started with a short documentary on a Brazilian feminist punk band named Domanatrix. The film ran about a half and hour and was really informative and inspiring if you're into feminist harcore bands from Brazil.

Some all-girl bluegrass band played next, followed by a three-piece pop band who I'm guessing were still in high school, followed by a mass exodus of people. There weren't that many people in the crowd to begin with, but by about 12:30 the place was damn near empty. Thankfull the 15-20 or so people left all got on the floor and slammed around for The Keep Aways set. Jimmy (Nikki's boyfriend) and myself shot some footage that Jimmy is going to compile for a DVD so that should be pretty cool.

After some more drinks, Mindy and I headed back to my mom's to crash.

But the T-Wolves were still on my mind.

So I say bring it on Lakers!

This series is going to come down to a couple of keys: can the Wolves can muster any kind of a defense against Shaq (probably not); can Sam Cassell play over 35 minutes a game and be effective (debatable); can KG give a repeat performance of his Game 7 against the Kings (absolutely); can Minnesota's home court advantage offset the Lakers momentum and match-up edge (wouldn't bet on it)?

I do not forsee this series being a blow out. I think the Wolves are prepared to take the Lakers to the limit in this one. Let's just hope that they've got enough left in the tank and that Cassell can play some reasonable minutes. If two things happen I think the Wolves will be just fine.

On another note, I missed out on catching Steve from the Swiss Army. He had to play at the Fine Line with his other band, Podland, and couldn't make it over. We'd planned on stopping at his place on Thursday before we took off, but my girlfriend's car blew a fuel injector. What fun hanging out at a gas station for four hours is, lemme tell ya.

It's even more fun when the friendly mechanic tells you that the car is done, but that when they were putting the fuel injector in they got a little gas in the motor oil and had to give us an oil change. Not to worry, however, because the friendly mechanic informed us that he'd "taken care of it."

Well, what a great guy we think as I pay the bill, thinking that means we just got a free oil change. The nice woman behind the counter with the pasty white skin, to go with the unsettling dark brown mustache, tells us that her daughter goes to UMD with some friends. From what I gathered from the mustache lady, I guess her daughter really likes it up here. It took all the strength I had left in my body not to stare directly at this woman's mustache.

I'm already an hour late for work and my girlfriend has called work and told her she will not be in today. We just want to get home. I look at the bill once we're in the car and see that they've charged us $13 for oil change labor. The oil change that the friendly mechanic had "taken care" of. This makes me mad. So I decide to add everything up and it seems that we've been charged $8.95 for something unaccounted for anywhere. There is no absolutely no documentation for this $8.95. Like the guy on the couch in Half Baked, no one knows this charge, it has no answers for us, but it's staying with us whether we like or not. As far as I can glean, the charge is not for tax, shop supplies, wear, tear, mental anguish, or anything really.

I add this to the $13 we've been charged for the oil change labor: $21.95. That sounds like a pretty reasonable dollar amount to charge for a full oil change.

I start jumping to wild conclusions. I plan on calling these evil fuckers sometime today to verify exactly how much they charge for an oil change. Whatever the answer, I'm going to write a letter to the corporate office of this thoroughly dishonest company who enjoys fucking out-of-town customers they will likely never have to deal with again. But they will have to deal with me again. I plan on appealing to the corporate shithead's mentality with some branding rhetoric that I'm sure they understand well.

When I think of Disney, I think boring family fun. When I think of Starbucks, I think (believe it) good coffee.

Now, every time I think of Champion Auto, I think of a bunch of chain smoking, oil stained greaseballs scheming like a pack of malnourished hyenas; lying in wait for the opportunity to pounce on the next unwitting out-of-town persons in need of help and tear them to shreds.

Fuck those guys.

James | 5/21/2004 07:49:00 AM

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Wednesday, May 19, 2004

**Is A Game 7 Really War?**

KG's recent comments likening his preparation for Game 7 to that of a US commando readying for a raid on a Muhjaddin bunker have prompeted some pretty heated reactions around the horn. They've even prompted KG to, wisely I believe, retract the statement and issue an apology. But what's the real problem here? Is it the statement in general, where KG said,

"It's for all the marbles. I'm sitting in the house loading up the pump, I'm loading up the Uzis, I've got a couple of M-16s, couple of nines, couple of joints with some silencers on them, couple of grenades, got a missile launcher. I'm ready for war."

of his his Game 7 preparation? Or is it that Garnett so intimately detailed his precise "preparations," that it seemed like he'd done this kind of thing before (and I'm not talking about a Game 7, because KG's never been in one)? That's definitely what's got this guy concerned. But to conclude that

"No one could listen to that diatribe and not believe Kevin Garnett has an intimate knowledge of the subject matter. No parent or guidance counselor or pastor is going to be able to convince any kid that KG doesn't think guns are cool. And no one is going to be able to convince me that SOME harm won't come from this.

It's a bad day in the sports world. And all I can think to say is, Go Kings."

is just stupid. Anyone who's ever seen and The Terminator, Predator, Rambo, or any of those other blow-em-up movies probably has just as intimate a knowledge of guns as KG's statement professes. Greenberg's conclusion is absolutely ludicrous. Will some harm come from this? Who can tell, unless some kid shoots up his school and tells the cops that KG made him do it? In which case, who's to blame if that kid does not have the mental faculties to distinguish KG's metaphorical rhetoric from that of someone who literally is preparing for a basketball game by arming himself with weaponry (just typing that makes me laugh out loud)? That kid's parents is who.

Had KG simply said that he's "ready for war" I don't think anyone would have paid any attention to the comments. They'd, at best, be chalkboard fodder for the Kings, but even that I doubt.

Journalists, players, and coaches have used war as a metaphor for the intense pressure of the playoffs--and especially Game 7s--for years. How many times during a tennis or baseball broadcast, where the action is head to head, has the commentator described the matchup as a duel? Shit, the WWF's tagline for their Raw show is "RAW IS WAR." Where's the outrage there?

Is that right however? Does this somehow demean a soldier putting his life on the line, when people put the actions of millionaire athletes into the same ballpark as soldiers? Is the pressure of war comparable to the pressure of a Game 7? C'mon. I've never been in a war, but I can tell you how ridiculous that sounds. To paraphrase Samuel Jackson in Pulp Fiction, war and sport ain't even in the same fuckin' ballpark.

If I were a veteran I might be insulted that the subject of war is so casually tossed around, but I'd probably know enough to take anything having to do with modern day professional sports with a rather large grain of salt.

KG is one of the most emotionally hyperactive basketball players on the planet--the man practically bleeds emotion. The only thing that KG is guilty of is embellishment and using a sensitive metaphor in a time where Americans lives are a stake every day.

I think that issue this does signal a larger societal problem: a country of people so desensitized to the horrors of war that we're able to throw make these comparasions around without thinking. But to hold KG personally responsible is just stupid.

There's a good post about this subject (along with a nice blog) here. But I read some of it here first.

James | 5/19/2004 12:08:00 PM

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Tuesday, May 18, 2004

Coachella

Yep, it's official, that Coachella bootleg is really fucking awesome. The sound is way better than the Minneapolis show. The vocals are mixed a little low on the first couple of songs, but it evens out nicely after that. The playing is much tighter and Frank's voice seems to be in much better shape (his screams jump out at you), as well. I suppose that this can be expected since this was their last show on the tour and Mpls. was their first. Damn I'm glad that I was there.

On another note, I'm pretty disappointed that I'm going to miss Calvin Johnson's show at The MAC tommorrow night. I'm going to be in the Cities for The Keep Aways show at the ROCKROCKROCK.

Somewhere in there I hope to get an interview done with some dudes from The Swiss Army and The Plastic Constellations, but we'll see what happens. Both bands are going to be playing here next month at the NorShor with Fair-Weather Friend and Words To A Film Score--a show I strongly suggest not missing.

James | 5/18/2004 09:45:00 AM

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Monday, May 17, 2004

About Time

My Pixies bootlegs finally arrived after I don't know how many weeks. Unfortunetely, they sent me 4 Minneapolis bootlegs instead of the Idaho and Oregon shows that I requested. Oh well, I guess it's eBay for those things. I can't wait to listen to the Coachella show again, because after listening to Minneapolis I'm pretty convinced that Coachella blows it away.

Playlist:
Pixies-Live in Minneapolis, MN(cd)
Pixies-Live in Indio, CA(cd)

James | 5/17/2004 01:33:00 PM

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Moz v. Ziggy--Round 1

What fun it is when old geezers feel the need to attack each other in the press, dontcha think? Morrissey (possibly drumming up press for his new album?) allegedly takes a couple of swipes at David Bowie during a TV interview in England. You can read the story here and check out Morrissey's new video for "Irish Blood, English Heart" (which I happen to think is pretty good)here.

James | 5/17/2004 09:47:00 AM

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Sunday, May 16, 2004

Kings 104, T-Wolves 87

What a disappointment this game was. The T-Wolves played one of the most undisciplined games I've seen from them. Other than the 1st quarter, the T-Wolves just lacked any type of fire whatsoever, couldn't play defense, and turned the ball over way too much.

I still am having a hard time figuring out just what in the fuck KG was doing taking shots at Anthony Peeler. Retaliation sure, but not in an elimination game. You're the MVP of the goddamn league and you're going to get possibly tossed for whacking AP? I could see it if he went at it with Bibby or Stojakovic, but not AP. AP's a punk.

It's obvious Cassell's back is totally fucked (I'm not sure how he scored 16) and that's a really bad thing for Game 7. Somehow, the T-Wolves need to find an answer inside and get everyone on the same page discipline wise otherwise they're as good as done.

Either way, the Lakers have to be licking their chops at playing either of these teams coming off a couple days of rest.

On a completely unrelated note: I just cannot understand the vitriolic pettiness that motivates some people to do the things they do.

Like saying things like this about me, but having no problem posting things like this(hint: read the first press blurb) elsewhere.

I've got no problem with people not liking what I do, because (even though I think it's usually quite good) I figure it's just pretty much an inevitable thing for whatever reason. All I ask for is a little consistancy of opinion.

James | 5/16/2004 03:13:00 PM

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Friday, May 14, 2004

Bloodstool Deleted

I deleted the Bloodstool CD review after receiving some complaints from folks at the Ripsaw. No problem. I was kind of suprised they would allow me to post those things anyway. It's not like they threatened legal action or anything, but out of respect I suppose you all will just have to wait until the end of the month.

James | 5/14/2004 01:33:00 PM

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Thursday, May 13, 2004

Melvins at Luce Please

There's been a very heated cyber-discussion over at Tony Bennett's Livejournal as of late concerning Luce vs. The MAC.

Tony wants to try to book the Melvins for a show in Duluth. My humble opinion is that the Melvins at Luce is a no-brainer. No one's really mentioned that Luce is no smoking unless you're in the bar.

Plus it's all ages and booze--which is a pretty unbeatable combination. Don't like smoke and booze? Stay out of the bar. It's really as easy as that.

On top of that the new stage and PA at Luce are pretty kick ass. That's a pretty unbeatable combination for those out there like myself who really want to see the Melvins rock and really wouldn't mind having two to nine cocktails.

I've got a tough time understanding why people get their pants in a bunch over Luce's perceived hipster or hippie or whatever quotient. If you don't like 'em, just don't talk to 'em; keep to yourself and watch the show. That's what it's all about anyway.

It seems to me that if you let your little insecurities or biases get in the way, you're bound to miss out on some good tunes and that's really too bad.

For the record, I like the MAC a lot. I spent the majority of my Homegrown there. I think that once they get a really good PA with a soundguy who knows what he's doing it's going to be an awesome place. I can't wait for Calvin Johnson and the Sparhawk/If Thousands/guy from The New Year shows.

However, I had a flask in my back pocket the whole weekend because I like a little alcohol with my rawk. I really like the idea being thrown around for an early MAC show that gets you free entry to Luce later on in the evening. I think that would really bring the people in.

I think people are right though that older people perceive all-ages venues that don't serve booze as refuges for the "kids." I've talked to Chris at The MAC about that problem and he mentioned that they were really trying to distance themselves from the "All-Ages" tag because of that reason. That's a big obstacle that The MAC is going to have to overcome (there were quite a few old-times at The MAC this weekend however).

Therefore, I think Melvins should be at Luce--no contest. Please Tony, whatever you can do and however I can be of service--get the Melvins to Duluth.

James | 5/13/2004 12:43:00 PM

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Homegrown

So I've been a slack motherfucker when it comes to posting. Oh well. Homegrown was a really good time. I wrote something really slap dash for the Reader about where I traveled that should make it in there...well, today I think. I don't know if the whole thing is going to make it or if they're going to split it up into two parts. The thing could have been about twice the size that it was, so here are some memories (non-musical) that didn't make it just because.

1)Freddy as a one man spinning show at the 'Shor on Friday wearing a really funny rainbow hat.

2)Seth from the DTs fucking his ankle up big time during JATRO on Saturday at The MAC. How bad was his ankle? Well, Seth spent all of Saturday either feeding himself of others bongs of Homeless Cola, Beer or Bloody Beer so if he thought his ankle was messed up bad, it must have been messed up BAD!

3)Jonathan Livingston's hand swelled to the size of one of those "We're Number One!" hands that you see at sporting events after playing tambourine at the BES' show Friday night at The MAC.

4)Will Adamczak, Mark Lindquist and myself in awe Friday night at Pizza Luce watching Michael Jordan torch the Celtics in the playoffs on ESPN Classic (a whole day before Lindquist pulled his now infamous Homegrown disappearing act).

5)Seth pelting the Undesireables with ice during their set (at least it wasn't beer cans this year).

6)Ultimate heckler, Chris Whittier, giving Sight Like December all they could handle on Friday asking for "Purple Rain" and "Stranglehold" among other things.

There are probably others strange stories from other people out there.

If you want to see a really kickass Homegrown movie that nearly brought a tear of joy to my eye, please go here immediately.

Thanks to Barrett Chase for the movie, Starfire for the birthday, and everyone else (musicians and fans and organizers and alcohol distributors) who made this past weekend a whole lotta fun.

Playlist:
Mission of Burma-ONoffON(cd)
Olivia Tremor Control-Black Foilage: Animation Music(cd)
Black Dice/Erase Errata split 7"
Secret Machines-Now Here Is Nowhere(cd)

James | 5/13/2004 09:24:00 AM

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Thursday, May 06, 2004

**Coachella (or how I acquired a newfound appreciation of Poison's Look What the Cat Dragged In)...Volume 2**

8:30am--Sunday, May 2
Tim and I are once again roused from a pleasant slumber by that evil sonofabitch the sun. Today we are determined, asshole parking dudes be damned, to move our car into the VIP lot.

9:00am
The trek to the car wasn't too bad and, from the looks of it there are way fewer parking dudes lurking around. We change clothes, brush our teeth, and take off.

9:15am
We're home free, but before heading into the VIP lot we decide to head into town for some supplies.

At an Indio gas station we each pick up two 32 oz. Gatorades and some ice cream bars (Ben and Jerry's Cherry Garcia for me). Next, we hit up a drug store for the one essential item (for dude's anyway) at any outdoor music festival where the heat is punishing-talcum powder. Without grossing everybody out, spending a whole day sweating, drying off, sweating again, and repeating this process for an entire day all the while walking close to five or six or, who knows, ten miles chaps the fuck out of your inner thighs.

We decide on Gold Bond medicated in a green bottle. I can't wait to put this shit on.

9:45am
We get back to the festival grounds and park in the VIP lot right next to the campground entrance. Honestly, I cannot stress enough how much this made my day; knowing that I wouldn't have to make that 1.5 mile round trip trek with camping gear again tomorrow morning. Tim and I decide that this coup has, regardless of what else happens, already made our day a smashing success.

Douse my entire crotch area with Gold Bond. Ecstasy I tell you.

10:00am
We make our way over the festival entrance in order to catch the screening of Short Program 1 in the Coachella Independent Film Festival Tent. Really the only reason I want to see this is for the Elliott Smith live footage, but there's also some Bob Marley stuff and a bunch of short films (one of which is a South Park short entitled "Something You Do With Your Finger" which intrigues me).

We're puzzled, as we're informed the gates aren't opening until 11am again, but the screening starts at 10am. We figure the early morning screening is probably for the "stars" that have turned out, and desperately try to find some shade.

11:00am
The crowd starts to get restless.

We decide that it's way fucking hotter than it was the day before.

A woman with a bullhorn then informs us of the usual "no water, no containers, no pens (ha!), no nothing." Then, she really pisses some people off as she announces that people who purchased umbrellas inside the venue yesterday will not be able to take them inside today. This, understandably, boils the blood of more than a few people. What a stupid fucking rule! I don't see how they can rationally ban something that someone bought inside the day before. Oh well, I think, glad that I didn't buy one.

11:15am
We're finally let inside the venue. Today's schedule is a really easy one from my point of view. Most of the show that I really want to see early on are at the Outdoor Theater, so Tim and I head there right off the bat.

12:00pm
We watched Pretty Girls Make Graves soundcheck for about half and hour before realizing that they didn't start until 1:00pm. Shit. And double shit because this sun is already kicking my ass.

Tim and I grab some waters and go rest under the nearby shade tent until the show gets underway. Here, I overhear the two of the funniest quotes of the festival, from two LA High School girls. Quote 1: "Las Vegas is so boring without a fake ID" Ha, ha, I laugh to myself. Then they top that one:

Girl 1: It sounds like those people are speaking Swahili.
Girl 2: (laughing) First of all, you don't even know what Swahili is. Second of all, it's Swahilian.
Girl 1: No it isn't. Is it?

Then, amazingly, they top themselves with this one, uttered by Girl 2.

"I think I'm having my period. Or maybe I'm just sweating a lot."

No shit. I almost lost it on that last one. Luckily it was pretty close to 1:00 and PGMG were about to start.

1:00pm
I don't know, maybe I just felt like shit, but PGMG weren't exactly my cup of tea. I'm going to blame it on my body and liking Erase Errata's show way more. Oh well, it's not like they were bad or anything.

1:50pm
By this time my whole body is so drained that my grand plan to see every band on the Outdoor Theater stage until Mogwai plays at 10pm in the Mojave tent is in serious jeopardy. The shade tents are so overrun that it's next to impossible to find a space to sit. Tim and I finally do and decide that we'll settle for listening to !!! from here.

We both eventually pass out and, upon waking up, I feel like absolute shit. I passed out on my back with my arms crossed on my chest (in the shade mind you) and now there is a perfect impression of my arms left of my t-shirt in sweat. Tim and I both need food and water right now or we're both in serious trouble.

3:00pm
After procuring a huge chicken sandwich that I drench with Caesar dressing, two bottles of water, and a bag of Skittles, Tim and I manage to land a seat on the bleachers. This move turns out to save my day from being a total disaster.

The sandwich fills me up, the water quenches my thirst, and the Skittles...Oh those gloriously rainbow colored, artificially flavored candies. I figure my blood sugar must have been dangerously low, because after wolfing the Skittles bag down I feel rejuvenated just in time for...

3:20pm
Broken Social Scene. I saw BSS play a couple of months ago at the 400 Bar in Minneapolis and they just blew me away. Today is no exception. They also initiate one of the most bizarre coincidences I've ever been a part of. Some member of the band starts joking around about renaming this the US Festival. Tim and I look at each other like "Holy Shit!" (ed: You'll have to read the prequel to understand why) No one really gets the joke, so he goes on to explain that the US Festival was a festival back in around '83 or '84 that featured the likes of Judas Priest, The Scorpions, Ozzy, and Van Halen.

The band proceed to kick into a charging "Stars and Sons"

At this point I take inventory of my fluid intake for the day:
4 17oz. bottles of water
1 32oz. Gatorade
1 32oz. bottle of water from my Nalgene

Number of times urinated:
0

BSS, thankfully, have brought along Emily Maines from Metric to sing "Anthems For a Seventeen Year-old Girl" and backing on "Almost Crimes." Both of those songs are absolutely amazing.

Somewhere in there, one of the BSS guys (lead guitarist, don't know his name) proposed to his girlfriend, the "best lady he's ever known," right up on stage. How romantic.

By the end of BSS's incredible set, Tim and I have managed to make our way to the top level of the bleachers, where we will remain for sometime, quite contented and with a perfect view of the stage to boot.

4:20
Atmosphere takes the stage a little early, but that's ok according to Slug because he likes talking to the crowd and begins in on one of the funniest/strangest rants I heard at the festival.

Slug began by asking the audience who was a vegetarian, vegan, liked to kick people's asses, etc and asking them to raise their hands. Then he started going off on people who stand up for shit, like not wearing or supporting certain corporations (on their feet, chest, etc.)

Then he says this (and just so you know, these quotation marks are really loose):
"Everyone out here's against something. You know what I hate? Cocaine. That's the most evil shit on the planet. You won't wear Nike, but you'll do a bump? Fuck you! Do you know what that shit does to the kids in the country's where it's produced?"

I just kind of sat there and looked at Tim, truth be told, a little puzzled. It's really true though, it's like when the vegetarian kids try and persuade me how healthy it is to eat veggie or vegan, then light up a ciggy. What the fuck man? Ah well, we've all got our contradictions.

After that they launched into some shit that sampled Rage's "Killing in the Name Of" pretty significantly. In one song (it's the same one that Lindquist cops on Save Our Clique) that I think is on Lucy Ford, Slug changes the line to "John Coltrane, Marvin Gaye, and Elliott Smith." Hell yes. Thank you Slug.

The rest of Atmosphere's set is plagued by sun related problems. Specifically, the DJ's records keep skipping because the sun is melting the vinyl. What can you do? Lauch the offending vinyl into the crowd and nearly decapitate a few people I guess. Slug apologizes.

5:20pm
Atmosphere's set ends and I go to buy a Le Tigre t-shirt for my girlfriend before Cursive go on.

5:45pm
I get back just in time for Cursive, a band who I don't mind, but haven't heard good things about live.

Before they start playing, a guy calling himself Boxman (dressed in a box) entertains the crowd by getting our bleachers to say "Box!" and the bleachers next to us to yell "Man!" at his prompting. Then he implores all of us to take pictures of him and sign his box. I suppose this exercise represents Boxman's bid for immortality. Godd for him.

Cursive play a pretty tight, intense set: dissing Bush, covering Kelis' "Milkshake" (why, why, why?) and closing with a new song (probably a stab at Bush titled "Big Shot"), "Art is Hard," and "The Ugly Organ."

6:35pm
The DJ cues Mogwai's Rock Action as Cursive exit the stage. Ooooh, the anticipation is killing me.

Tim leaves to grab us some food and see if Pretty Girls Make Graves is still signing in the Virgin booth (it seems he's developed a minor crush on their lead singer). He arrives back just before Bright Eyes with gyros and bottles of water. What a guy.

7:00
The sun begins to set in the valley providing a picturesque backdrop for Conor Oberst and his Saddle Creek symphony. Thankfully he's brought them along this time because I missed out the last time he had the entire crew in tow.

BE's starts the set with a bitter, pointed (guess at who?) "Don't Know When But A Day Is Gonna Come," that garners big cheers from the crowd after "but what my father did, you know it don't mean shit. I'm...not...him." Extra emphasis on "shit" and "him."

All in all it's a pretty rocking set. Oberst goes off on a multi-national corporation rant, plays "Bowl of Oranges," a couple of songs I didn't recognize, and ended with a new song I heard him play a couple of months ago at the State Theater. It's probably called "Simple in the Moonlight" and leans heavily on NYC imagery (subways, etc.) with lines like "what they sell you in the evening, in the morning won't exist."

All in all, good set Mr. Oberst.

7:50pm
Tim and I formulate a plan to meet up around 10:20pm to catch The Cure. I've decided to dip out early on Black Rebel Motorcyle Club to catch Mogwai and he's dipping out early to catch the Flaming Lips.

7:55pm
Tim and I decide to leave our roost atop the bleachers and head up close to the stage for BRMC as Bright Eyes' acolytes have fled en masse from the Outdoor Theater. Their loss I suppose.

8:15
Or not. BRMC's set is plagued (understatement) by numerous technical difficulties. During the first song neither mic was running through the PA. The bass players amp quit on him. Finally, they got so pissed off at the sound people that they just decided to do some acoustic stuff. That's not what I wanted to see from BRMC (Tim stuck around a bit longer and apparently they got everything worked out and played "Punk Song (Whatever Happened...) and bunch of other rockers.

8:45pm
I get over to the Mojave tent and Sleepy Jackson is still playing. There aren't too many people in the tent, so I figure that once these guys are done it'll be pretty easy to make it up to the rail for Mogwai.

I've never heard of Sleepy Jackson, but they seem like some real crazy motherfuckers. The lead guitarist is bodybuilder big, and the lead singer guy thrashed the shit out of his Tele at the end of the last song. He kind of resembles a maniacal Benecio del Toro circa Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas.

9:00pm
Sleepy Jackson depart and a 6'5" asshole smashes in front of me and grabs a spot along the rail. Not only that, but he invites his buddy (6'2" and probably 222lbs.) to join him. What a bunch of dickheads. Sure, it's my fault for being 5'6", but have some fucking respect man. Anyway, I slither to the guy's right and have a pretty good center stage viewing spot for Mogwai, who spend the next forty minutes soundchecking.

9:40
Finally, about 15 minutes late Mogwai come on and...wow is all I could summon. They encounter some sound diffuculties right off the bat, but manage to run through some pretty awesome shit: "Rage: Man" and "Small Children in the Background" off of EP + 2; "Ratts of the Capital," "Killing All the Flies," "Hunted By a Freak" and "Kids Will Be Skeletons" off of Happy Songs for Happy People; a couple of others; then they closed it down with a mind numbing, ecstasy inducing "2 Rights Make 1 Wrong" from Rock Action that nearly blew my eardrums out by the end. It'd be hard for me to say that any performance--save the Pixies and maybe Q and not U--beat this one.

10:20pm
I make it back to the bleachers where I'm supposed to meet Tim. Basement Jaxx are still playing and I take the opportunity to douse myself once more in Gold Bond. Tim shows up and we head off to grab a spot for the Cure as Basement Jaxx bust into the only song of theirs that I'm familiar with: "Where's Your Head At?"

10:30pm
The Cure finally go on about 10 minutes late to rapturous applause. There's really not a whole lot I can say about them being so far back, except that I was in love with hearing Robert Smith's voice. They trotted out the hits "Pictures of You" right on down the line, mixing in "A Hundred Years" and a bunch of songs I didn't recognize. I think my favorite was probably "Boy's Don't Cry" the second to last song they did before it was over.

12:00am--Monday, May 3
Sitting outside of our tent Tim and I pull on a couple of beers that we've managed to smuggle into our campsite (the only we down the whole weekend). We shoot the shit about the weekend and decide that we're really satisfied with how everything turned out. Our conversation takes a turn for the worse when the war in Iraq gets brought up, but pretty soon we're out for the count.

Top Five Shows I Saw:
1. Pixies
2. Q and Not U (tie)
2. Mogwai (tie)
4. the Cure
5. Erase Errata

Top Five Shows I'm Pissed That I Missed Due to Fatigue or Scheduling:
1. Kraftwerk
2. Flaming Lips
3. Trail of Dead
4. MF Doom
5. Belle and Sebastian

Top Five Things That Saved This Weekend From Potential Disaster:
1. Pixies
2. Affordable Water (tie)
2. Shade Tents (tie)
4. Skittles
5. Gold Bond

Tommorrow: Coachella (or how I acquired a newfound appreciation of Poison's Look What the Cat Dragged In)...the Prequel

James | 5/06/2004 01:20:00 PM

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Wednesday, May 05, 2004

**Coachella (or how I acquired a newfound appreciation of Poison's Look What the Cat Dragged In)...Volume 1**

ed. note: for an explanation of the subtitle, you're going to have to wait until the prequel comes out, immediately after ...Volume II since I imagine that most people (if they are, in fact, interested at all) are interested in the specifics of my trip while actually attending the Coachella Music and Arts Festival, and not the myriad details and cliches occurring before my arrival and after my departure.

6:00am--Indio, CA--Saturday, May 1

Tim and I have just survived a four and one half hour journey from San Diego. I cannot actually believe that we've made it here without either getting pulled over or crashing our car. I'm driving on pure adrenaline and Tim, wingman that he is, is passed out in the passenger's seat.

Entering the grounds it becomes obvious that we're one of the first couple of hundred people to arrive, as we managed to secure VIP camping privileges on the festival grounds. We drop our camping supplies off at the campground entrance and flip a coin to see who will guard them and who will drive the car to the parking lot 3/4 of a mile away and then slog back. Tim wins, which, as it happens, is no big deal since the sun has barely risen and it's actually quite cool out. I take in the mountains which encircle the valley; the palm trees that dot the grounds and the seemingly endless blue skies that stretch out for miles upon miles. Then I slap myself in the face for being such a pussy, set up camp, and pass out until...

9:30am
Tim and I rise involuntarily as the vicious desert sun has made our heretofore-heavenly tent uninhabitable. Dehydrated, but ready to attack Coachella, we formulate our plan. Go to the car, grab the cooler, brush our teeth, move the car into the newly discovered VIP lot, and get into the festival.

We manage to accomplish all of our objectives with ease except for moving our car into the VIP gate. Some asshole parking guys refuse to let us move despite our wristbands and vehement protests. Oh well, fuck him.

10:30am
Standing outside of the gates, which open at 11am, there is mass confusion on how exactly to get in. Hordes of people in seemingly endless, misshapen lines are going nowhere quickly. I realize then that my lack of eyewear is going to severely hinder my people watching, but figure that I'll probably be able to pick some up inside.

The crowd outside is your typical hipster set: skinny guys with long hair and phosphorescent skin and tattoos holding hands with (chubby, medium sized, skinny) girls with oddly dyed hair and wrist bracelets milling around desperately searching for shade. There are rockers, nerds, hippies, weirdoes, punks, and parents.

I figure the temp has got to be somewhere in the nineties by now and there are people (I spot two) actually dressed, no shit, in cardigan sweaters, pants, and t-shirts. I imagine that these idiots will be among the first to wilt under these oppressive conditions.

11:00am
Gates open and Tim, who left about 20 minutes ago to trek back to the car for water and a change of shirt, is nowhere to be found. Normally, I'd just go inside, but Tim's got the tickets. I stand around outside next to an enormous dumpster bathing in the shade it affords me and wait until...

11:45am
Tim finally gets back.

12:00pm
Inside the venue we grab one of the little programs that people are giving out and formulate a plan. We decide to check out Erase Errata first and since they don't start until 1:00 we browse the numerous vendor booths. Tim buys a hat and I buy a pair of "vintage 80's" sunglasses that the guy tells me are "vintage 80's" sunglasses and therefore charges me $15 for them. I could care less because it's the only place I could find selling shades, but who the fuck really cares if they're "vintage 80's?" I think Craig Finn puts it best, on the new Hold Steady album, when he says: "The 80s almost killed me/ Let's not recall 'em quite so fondly."

12:45pm
We head over to the Gobi Tent to find it sparsely populated and take a seat in the front row. Awesome. I talk to a guy about Lightning Bolt (he's seen them a bunch of times), Minneapolis, and Radiohead.

1:00pm
Erase Errata come on and rock for close to an hour. The tent slowly becomes a steam cooker as it eventually fills near to capacity, the temp outside pushes 100 degrees and little ventilation and no fans exist. The humidity causes numerous problems for the bass player's amp, but other than that it's a really good way to start the festival. The lead singer makes me think that if Patty Smith and Joey Ramone had a kid, it would probably look like her. Even though I don't recognize any of their songs (save the one on the comp tape my girlfriend made for me), I really fucking excited, not to mention exhausted, after dancing the entire time.

1:50pm
Leaving the tent soaked, I decide that the next band we need to see is Q and not U, which causes the first gut wrenching decision of the festival due to ...And You Will Know Us By the Trail of Dead playing at the same time. TOD are one of my favorite bands, but, since I've seen them play (and joined them onstage at First Ave. for some drum kit destruction) before, Q and not U wins out.

They play at 3:30, so that gives us a little bit of time to eat and find some shade.

I purchase a $6 cheeseburger that turns out to be a hamburger and two bottles of water. The water is $2 a bottle. I can live with that, but it really pisses me off that they will not let you bring any containers in-sealed or not.

We eat our food and drink our water underneath a tent while paying minimal attention to some guy named Howie Day playing on the Outdoor Theater stage.

2:30pm
We decide after eating to camp under the shade tent that separates the Mojave and Gobi Tents and rest until just before Q and not U go on. Then, our plan is to bust in and hopefully get pretty close, because a huge crowd is expected for the performance right after Q and not U--Mr. Beck Hansen.

We nap and, hearing that Sahara Hotnights has just ended, rise up and bum rush the tent to discover...there's hardly anyone there. Sweet! we think, taking a place right in front of the stage. Some dudes begin sound checking and I slowly begin to think that we're in the wrong tent because Q and not U don't...then I see the kick drum which reads Stellastar*, realize we are in the wrong tent, kick myself, and we rush out

3:15pm
We get to the Gobi Tent and, luckily, there aren't too many people in there. I manage to worm my way all the way up to the rail, just to the left of the PA speakers, but still with a good view of the front of the stage. Q and not U sound check for what seem like forever as the crowd begins to swell noticeably. I've lost Tim for the time being, but I eventually spy his newly purchased hat in the middle of the sea of faces. Good.

Taking a look around, I notice that I'm separated from the VIP section on the side of the stage by only a normal barricade that you see at most big shows. I look around to see if I can see notice anyone and who do I spy? None other that Fugazi's Ian MacKaye, dressed in purplish shirt and hat talking to Flea, John Frusciante and Fugazi bassist Joe Lally. Holy shit! This is pretty damn cool. I snap a couple of pictures and comment to the girl next to me how I feel like the goddamn paparazzi.

Q and not U go on and, almost literally, blow my mind. They really remind me of Fugazi mixed with the Talking Heads. They open up with "So Many Animal Calls" from Different Damage informing the audience "This is how we live every fucking day of the year!" The emotion is contagious and at one point Frusciante goes to watch them in the press pit. The crowd can't get enough. I don't remember the exact order, but they played "Soft Pyramids" (which ended with a toy flute solo), "X-Polynation" and "Book of Flags" (from the newest 7") "Airconditions" and a bunch of others.

4:15
Q and not U end and the anticipation for Beck is, oh, only slightly palpable. Actually, the crowd turns fucking rabid--and not just us common folk. The VIP area quadruples with people like Giovanni Ribisi (Beck's new brother-in-law), the red-haired, sunglasses wearing dude from That 70's show, and the older brother from Malcolm in the Middle. If a definition of security nightmare exists in an encyclopedia, they should update it with a picture from this exact moment. Like I said, the crowds on both sides of a relatively tiny partition began to swell, and I could see the fear in a couple of those security guy's eyes. Like, "What the fuck am I going to do if these people start charging?" The answer? Pray like a motherfucker dudes.

Beck finally goes on to deafening applause and I'm left to wonder why, really? I mean, I like Beck and all, but this is like a Beatlesque reaction. Whatever, it's pretty cool to see him. He plays a forty minute acoustic set, starting with one of my favorite tracks, "Cold Brains," and runs through "Already Dead" and "Lost Cause" from Sea Change, Daniel Johnstons' "True Love Will Find You In the End" and The Kinks "Nothin' In the World Can Stop Me Worryin' About That Girl." He also invites some people on stage to play tambourine and shakers, and deftly negotiates with a dude who keeps calling him a loser. Ha, ha, funny.

5:35pm
The crowd finally disperses, I find Tim, and we get some food and water. Two back-to-back shows, packed to the gills had really taken its toll on me. My feet and back keep tricking me into thinking I've just played four hours of basketball nonstop.

We decide to eschew any other shows for the time being and concentrate on finding a spot for the Pixies, who are scheduled to go on at 7:20. Making our way to the Main Stage, stopping at the Coachella Independent Film Festival Tent and a couple of vendors along the way, we finally get to a spot approximately 20 rows from the stage on the right hand side.

5:55pm
I'm hungry and thirsty again and, now that we've set up base, decide to trek out just as Sparta takes the stage--big mistake number one. It takes me nearly 45 minutes to get a chicken burrito (which turns out to be a bean and cheese!!!) and two bottles of water. By this time, as I burrowed my way unsuccessfully towards our base, the crowd had quadrupled. I settled on watching Sparta's last couple of songs about 30 rows back on the right hand side. Not a great view, but not too bad either.

7:20pm
The Pixies take the stage and...wow! The crowd is going nuts and I can barely see anything (big screen monitors to the left and right of the stage included) as they tear into "Bone Machine." I really can't remember much else of the set list, but know they played most of the hits. "Debaser," "Gigantic," "Where is My Mind," "Monkey's Gone to Heaven," "Caribou," "Velouria," "Wave of Mutilation," and on and on. Kim's voice was in great shape, Frank was fat and slightly irascible, Joey slayed, and Dave smashed the shit out of the drums. I suppose I'm a little sad that I had to see them standing shoulder to shoulder sweating profusely on my tiptoes to even catch a glimpse, but it sounded fucking awesome (how's that for eloquence?).

8:20pm
The Pixies closed the show with "Into the White," thanked everyone for showing up, and that was it.

I decided early on--being separated from Tim (who's never seen Radiohead and wanted to desperately)--that after The Pixies I was going to check out The Rapture at the Outdoor Theater. That meant losing my spot for Radiohead, but there was no way in hell that I could stand for another forty minutes plus, while they readied the stage, and then an hour and a half for the show. I had to almost literally fight my way through the massive crowd making its way to see Radiohead.

8:30pm
I barely make it over to the theater and The Rapture has already begun. Luckily enough, I manage to grab a spot in the (really tiny) bleacher section at the back and set up shop. People have a fun time slagging The Rapture as Gang of Four rip-offs or whatever, but I really like them a lot. That's probably due to me not being old enough to have heard Gang of Four, but what The Rapture do (mix jagged punk guitar with desperate vocals and a disco beat that makes you feel like you're in a club without all of the shitty bump and grind music inherent to most "clubs") they do well. I manage to catch "House of Jealous Lovers," "Olio," "Sister Savior" and a couple of others, though resist the urge to get up and dance, as my feet and back remind me that I'm a little worse for wear.

9:00pm
The Rapture ends and I walk over to the general vicinity of the Main Stage. I've already, with much consternation on my part, decided that there is no way in hell I'm going to catch MF Doom (who plays at 11:15) or Kraftwerk (10:40). I decide that the little energy I have left will be spent watching Radiohead from a ridiculous distance (this, given that the last Radiohead show I saw at Alpine Valley, I was no more than 10ft. from the stage).

9:15pm
Radiohead open with "There, There" and it seems to me that Thom Yorke's voice is not 100%. Given that they had to cancel a couple of recent Australian shows due to some vocal problems, this doesn't surprise me much (though Tim tells me that it got better towards the end). They follow "There, There" with "2 + 2=5," "Myxomatosis," "My Iron Lung," "Exit Music (For A Film)," and "Karma Police" before I decide that I don't need to listen to a sub-par Radiohead show from half and mile away with a whole day of festivities yet to come.

9:50pm
As I'm leaving, I can hear the guitar riff of "I Might Be Wrong" floating through the sky and, after I reach my tent to call it a night, I'm awoken a short time later by the "CH-CHUNK, CH-CHUNK" of Radiohead playing "Creep."

I bet that's the last time that'll ever happen, I think, happily drifting back into sleep.

Lessons learned from Day 1: Keep yourself hydrated, pace yourself, and sit down (preferably in the shade) at every single opportunity.

Bands who dissed Bush onstage that I heard: Q and not U, Sparta

Tommorrow: "Coachella (or how I acquired a newfound appreciation of Poison's Look What the Cat Dragged In...Volume II"

James | 5/05/2004 02:02:00 PM

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Tuesday, May 04, 2004

I'm Back

And no, I did not fall victim to the insanely high temperatures in the desert, but I almost did. Check back tommorrow for "Coachella (or how I acquired a newfound appreciation of Poison's Look What the Cat Dragged In)...Volume 1".

James | 5/04/2004 12:54:00 PM

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