With each passing day, Coachella becomes more and more a distant memory. Contents of conversations fade, and details of experiences evaporate into the past as we speed forward through time, trying to carry with us as much of the pleasure and shed as much of the pain as possible. And sadly, while although some of the most exciting moments in our lives rend deep impressions on our souls or ink dark tattoos on our minds' eyes, particularly action-packed experiences tend to rush by us, without giving us a chance to really relish in the moment and cherish a memory to keep with us on the journey ahead. Which seems why I tend to remember better some of the moments in life where I am not active but passive, not engaged but observant, not interacting but alone, soaking the environment through my pores and holding my breath so to speak with the atmosphere of experience, letting my body absorb the particles and my mind react to he forces of the moment, the spatial and temporal arrangement of dirt and junk littered on our iron rock pirouetting and spiralling about that blazing source of life tethering our mysterious flames together, where we find ourselves closely united through a mutual adoration for and celebration of that mystical source of wonder that is music.
Saturday night was the night I drank the most and stayed up the latest, and I feared that my sleep would be the least productive. However I was actually able to sleep in a bit, and eventually dragged myself out of my tent to begin taking care of myself around 9:30am. Though obviously too late for a shower, a group of us decided to embark on a quest for a spicket. We found one on the other edge of our lot, and while some essentially did a full wash, I'm usually content with just mostly washing my head (subconsciously probably the part of my body I care about the most).
Back at our site, it was the making of being a typical morning. I forced Spiderman to eat again, because the last time I did he found himself very greatful. Your body needs energy, and a fueled metabolism fights a hangover better. While we pathetically tried to nurse ourselves back to tip-top shape, our attention was drawn to our hispanic neighbors, who must have decided that since it was the last day, they are pulling all the stops. Not only had their group expanded to be quite a large party this morning, but they were also quite energetic. They must have been trying to purge the rest of their alcohol stash, because they started passing around a bottle of rum, encouraging each participant with a chugging chant followed by a boisterous cheer when they finished taking down all they could. Apparently they had more than their party could drink, because they started approaching passers-by in attempts to recruit more help. Some tried to resist, but surprisingly almost everyone gave in to the peer pressure. I think everyone found it harder to resist when they saw how entertained the crowd was, as each new person that stopped for a drag encouraged even louder chanting and cheering. Plus when it would be a female that would pass by, they would not only offer the bottle but change the chant to "chichis para la banda", which I think is basically something in the style of Mardi Gras ;) Sadly, no chichis were to be seen, but Spiderman and I still got into the spirit and took a turn anyway.
Spiderman had actually decided to have a beer just before this and so between the two he already got his buzz right back. I continued pregaming as well, though I had to pack up my campsite because Spiderman and I both needed to load up the car before going into the fest so I could just hit the road after the night's headliner, Gorillaz. However we were getting a ride that night with Angel Raper, who was again driving to Coachella from LA, and hadn't yet arrived. Since my phone was dying, I needed a charge and so I went to the car to get some juice, where I think I unfortunately experienced my best buzz of the day sitting in a hot minivan by myself, staring at all the Jesus and Mary mementos and wondering when the last time I had a reverent, self-motivated thought about Christianity...
Soon after I got back to the camp we found out our chariot had arrived, and Spiderman and I said goodbye to our wonderful hosts and then trekked a couple lots over to where my friend parked. We loaded up the car, and then headed to the fest for the last time of the weekend, me with my beer in hand and Red Bull stealthily hidden in my back pocket (I didn't have my flasks, so I had to sneak something in).
This was also the latest day that we went in. Now that I have my schedule finally, I can see that it was around 3:30pm, because Angel Raper went to Deerhunter while Spidey and I went to go check out Glitch Mob at the Sahara. I was really feelin' them, though it wasn't really what 'glitch' was as I understand it. It was sort of smoother, like a slower jungle or trip-hop style. This would be the last I would see of Spiderman for a while though, and towards the end of their set I left to go try to find Angel Raper at the Matt & Kim set. When I got there, they were just finishing a song and started to banter about how excited they were to see Beyonce on Friday night and blah blah they like to talk and they are really high on life if you've never seen them before. Still, their energy proved even more infectious than when I saw them at Pitchfork last year, and even though I couldn't find my friend, I still had a good time bouncing along to some of their originals as well as some strange covers, including renditions of Better Off Alone, and We Will Rock You (?!?). I have to admit they were fun, but I'd rather be listening to fun music with a friend, so I left early to go over to catch the beginning of the set of a band who I've never seen and may not see again. Although I've only really listened to one album of Sunny Day Real Estate, and can only really recall one song that I particularly fell in love with, I had to take the chance to check out the sad pre-emo stalwarts. The crowd was pretty diffuse, so I just went to the right of the sound tent which is my friend and I's unofficial meeting place. Turned out fruitful because Angel Raper discovered me there just a couple songs in (apparently his phone wasn't getting texts).
We stayed for almost all of their solid set ("It's a beautiful day for sad songs"), and although I kind of wanted to stay to check out Jonsi, there was a break and so we decided to grab some food and then see some of Charlotte Gainsbourg. This time, instead of getting my usual falafel wrap, I settled for some lobster garlic fries since I wasn't that hungry yet anyway. In case you read too fast, I did say fries with GARLIC and LOBSTER. If this is common in California, then this is just another reason to get out to the west coast more often, because this shit was amazing.
We turned up for Charlotte with the most sophisticated crowd I saw all weekend. No glowsticks, but lots of guys in hats. Less bikinis and body paint and way more sun dresses. I'm guessing the average age of the crowd was at least five to ten years older as well. Gainsbourg's music was pleasant Feist-esque fair, and I enjoyed it but I would have rather checked it out at a smaller fest or a small club/lounge venue. Still it was refreshing and I found myself staying through the set even though I was and still am ever-curious for Jonsi since falling in love with Sigur Ros in grad school.
We split after this so AR could check out Spoon, who tend to bore me, while I decided to try to catch some of Miike Snow. I can't get enough of their electro dance pop LP from last year, and I was hoping the crowd and setlist would be better than the recent Metro show I saw. However, I couldn't get close enough in the tent for it to sound good, and so after struggling to get into a few tracks, I decided to go back to the tent Gainsbourg finished at to catch a little Sly Stone before Pavement. Unfortunately, the next forty-five minutes turned out to be a huge waste of time because for whatever reason, Sly Stone never came on before I had to go over for Pavement. All I did was end up wandering around to the merch and back, hoping he would go on, but all I got to hear was Phoenix rock out loudly from far away at the second stage, ceaselessly pulling in hordes of people from all corners of the fest. I saw a great Phoenix show at the Aragon this year, and since they sounded so good from afar I wasn't tempted to fight my way in with the masses. In retrospect, I should have gone to Sahara to check out Infected Mushroom for a bit, but that would have required swimming against the tidal wave of dance pop seekers.
So eventually I gave up on Sly and hit the main stage for the most anticipated classic indie rock show of the fest-- Pavement. It wasn't hard to find AR by the sound booth again, who was a longtime fan, but the crowd was again diffuse for these champions of pre-grunge alternative. I myself must admit I've never been able to fall in love with them, though I have spent some time familiarizing myself with their early stuff especially the debut. I did stay for most of the set to foster my appreciation for the band, but I got a text from Spiderman saying he wanted to meet me for Thom Yorke and so I decided to go find him by the fire tornado apparatus so we could hang together for that set.
Turns out Spidey was simply exhausted, because for the rest of the night, through Thom Yorke and then Gorillaz, he alternated between simply standing and sitting so he could rest and massage his feet. At least two girls approached him to see if he was ok, and it was understandably so for during Thom Yorke was the second time I saw a girl go down and need assistance.
But regardless, Thom Yorke's set was great. I've always loved The Eraser, which is almost four years old, and it was sweet to finally see it performed live. It was a little odd to see Flea of Red Hot Chili Pepper fame on bass, and I wasn't quite digging the live version of Skip Divided (though I'm not too disappointed because it's my least favorite track), but it was sweet to hear them play the album straight through in its entirety. Songs like Analyze, Black Swan, and Harrowdown Hill are as beloved to me as almost any Radiohead song, and Cymbal Rush was radically transformed to a mind-blowing climax live. I would have been satisfied with this, but after they finished the album, the band departed while Yorke stayed on stage to perform some solo stuff. First he did a new song on guitar that utilized live vocal and guitar looped playbacks, followed by an acoustic Airbag and then a piano Everything in its Right Place. If that wasn't enough, the band returned so that they could play some new "mad shit" as Thom put it. The most maddening was Thom's dancing though, and although the songs were upbeat and funky, they will hopefully never be put to record.
We started migrating to the main stage a little early since I didn't want to get stuck in the back for Gorillaz like we did for Tiesto. And it was a little awkward for me since Spiderman was still pretty much spent for the night, though he still agreed to stick by me while I eagerly awaited one of my more anticipated acts of the fest. I had heard Gorillaz described as a virtual band, and that they will basically substitute a huge video screen for the stage presence of musicians. This was fortunately only partially true. The stage was there, and they played an engrossing video to every song, but they also visibly had a stage band, which mainly consisted of Damon Albarn running around singing but also had a string orchestra as well as many others I couldn't quite discern from my distance. They started with a video of Snoop Dogg welcoming us to the world of the Plastic Beach, and moved to play a complete hodgepodge of tracks, which is basically what all their albums are like. Most of the crowd around me was digging it, and just looking around I was amazed not only by the energy people still had despite the late hour of the third day of this massive party, but also the diversity of the crowd that was getting into this music. I guess it shows how successful Gorillaz's weird alchemy of genre-mashing truly is. Although it was to be expected, they unfortunately played way too much new stuff, and the only classic I stayed long enough to hear was Clint Eastwood. I really dug Stylo though and the classic car chase video starring Bruce Willis, but I was really hoping to hear D.A.R.E. or Feel Good, Inc. Alas, we all agreed to cut out early to beat the rush, and so I missed the encore performance of Feel Good which apparently incorporated De La Soul who performed earlier that day.
Spidey and I found AR by our predetermined landmark way in the back, where he patiently waited and listened to Gorillaz from a distance, clearly not sold on their quirky conglomeration of sounds. Although we left early there was still a half hour wait in a car line to get out, and by the time we dropped of Spiderman at Palm Springs nearby, I was starting to crash. I had had energy all day, surprisingly even through the Gorillaz set, but at this point I was running on fumes. Still, I abide by being a good wingman and split a Red Bull with the driver so that we could distract ourselves with talk of music while we grabbed some tacos from a drive thru joint and finished the night with a two hour drive back to LA.
I can't remember what time it was when we finally got to AR's brother-in-law's loft in downtown LA, but it was somewhere around 4am. I took a shower because I knew I wouldn't find time to in the morning. We had to get up around 7am to drop off the rental car and then catch a bus to LAX so we could get our flights, which weren't the same but were deliberately booked to leave around the same time. This was good planning because I was a complete zombie at 7am, and I probably would have missed the second flight of the weekend if it wasn't for my friend. Fortunately though, I made boarding at 10:30am, and passed out for the entire flight home.
Phew! There you have it. Finally finished my inauguration of Omnaural with the final Coachella post exactly one month late!
Thanks for reading everyone and stay tuned for more *current* music posts... which will include links to actual music!
