Coachella 2005 Review

I was digging around on an old hard drive when I found this, my review of Coachella from 2005. I hope you enjoy it, but if you don't, eh.

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Another year of Coachella has come and gone and we’ve got a pretty damn thorough review for you. We managed to catch substantial pieces of 19 bands’ sets on Saturday and several full sets on Sunday. This year, to help facilitate actually posting a review of both days, we’ve decided to post the reviews in award format.

Band Most Likely to Catch Heat Stroke: None!
While last year’s obvious winner was Thursday, the mid-80’s temperatures for both days set well with bands and concertgoers alike. There may not have been as many crispy Goths as there were in 2004, but there were also fewer shirtless muscledorks.

DJ Spinning Cheesiest Trance : Evil Nine
The caveat here is that Evil Nine was the first DJ in the Sahara tent on the first day of the festival. His skills were respectable, but the tracks were laughable. This poor bastard dropped everything from “Calling Your Name” to a Sandstormesque Darude cut. In his defense, I think he was probably under duress to play such crap.

Most Forgettable Act (Saturday) : Nic Armstrong and the Thieves
Not necessarily bad, but not anything I’d run out and buy.

Most Forgettable Act (Sunday) : Jem
Jem sounds like ugly girls with nice bodies. Good from far, but far from good. This is what the Cardigans would sound like if they could get any more boring.

Best Cover of Another Coachella Act’s Song : Jamie Cullum
While Coldplay’s abbreviated cover of Nine Inch Nails’ Hurt was cute, Jamie Cullum performed a cover of Coldplay’s We Never Change that was heart wrenching despite the fact that he claimed the band had never played it live and might “Totally bollocks it up.”

DJ Most Inspiring to Aspiring DJs : U.N.K.L.E.
While billed as U.N.K.L.E., this was actually a James Lavelle DJ set. What we caught included everything from evil, ambient and flatulent bass lines to Get Ready by Mitch Ryder and the Detroit Wheels. If any a DJ were to be accused of doing more than just “playing records,” it would be Lavelle. While Ben Watt’s set made us realize that good dance music is still being produced and spun, James Lavelle lived the mix and told a story with a bit more breadth.

Best Main Stage Discovery (Saturday) : Buck 65
A one-man band who can scratch like a dog with VD, Buck 65 was not only the most entertaining thing on in his time slot, but probably the funniest act of the festival. “When I was growing up,” he growled, “people used to ask me what I wanted to be, and I told ‘em door-to-door encyclopedia salesman. That dream didn’t work out, but I wrote a song about it.” Two turntables and a microphone? Seen.

Best Main Stage Discovery (Sunday) : Nine Inch Nails
We thought Goldenvoice was taking a big risk booking NiN after all this time, but what do you know, Trent’s still got it. Unlike The Cure, who were the Sunday headliners last year, Trent’s new material had the same effect on the crowd as hearing the old stuff for the first time. It’s not industrial anymore, but maybe it hasn’t been since Broken. Look for a number-one-with-a-bullet effect this week as With Teeth, the first new full album in ten years is released.

Most Horizontal Audience : Wilco
I don’t know if Wilco fans are stoned or just naturally unmotivated, but just about everyone seemed to be lying down for this one. On the bright side, you could see them really well if you were standing up and 100 rows back from the front of the stage. Jeff Tweedy also gets the award for stupidest utterance by a rock star at a festival. He said, “I don’t like festivals.”

Best Knob-Twiddling Act : Four Tet
I was really hoping to give this one to Swayzak, but Four Tet did more by himself than both the dudes from Swazak combined. He had this intense look on his face most of the time like he was trying to pass a football-sized colon stone. A couple of times he looked up and smiled. As if he had finally passed said stone. You know one of these acts is good when it sounds like they couldn’t possibly know what they’re doing and they then transition into another looping pattern so smoothly that it makes you question your very being.

Most Obnoxious Crowd : None!
This year’s festival had the best vibe since at least 2001 if not ever. People were friendly, vendors were courteous, and security wasn’t too assholey (except for the dick in the parking lot who tried to make me wait to leave even though I was the only car in sight). Between the people and the fact that there was plenty of water, food and hand sanitizer, Goldenvoice may have finally nailed it.

Act We’re Most Sorry We Missed : Bloc Party
While Matmos and Roots Manuva were runners-up, I had to make my peace with missing Bloc Party early on. It would have been a logistical nightmare, and I planned to see the entire Bauhaus show. I don’t regret my decision to see Bauhaus, but I do regret the organizers’ decision to put these two excellent bands up against one another.

Best Comeback : Gang of Four
I hadn’t heard anything from Go4 until I read that they were on the bill, but the recording I managed to snag was a live set from 1979 with a lot of great songs on it, including the first three they played. They opened with Return the Gift; we couldn’t have asked for a more perfect opener than that.

Best Reason to Show Up Even Though Cocteau Twins Bailed : Eisley
I’m not sure where this band came from, but I’m sure glad they showed up. The harmonies are reminiscent of harp strings plucked in a dream sequence in an old and faded cartoon. This is probably the best thing to come out of Texas since LSD, or at least since Seven Percent Solution. While they might be a bit country for some and a bit commercial for others, the comparisons to Transister can’t be easily ignored by someone who’s familiar with both bands.

Best Overall Band (Saturday) : M83
Maybe it’s because it was the first time we’d seen them, maybe it’s because they came all the way from France. Or maybe it’s because they rocked harder than any other band could effortlessly. M83 is one of those bands that has the potential to blow you into the next dimension, but leaves you dangling by a thread somewhere in-between, taunting you. We’re a big fan of both of their LPs and were a little anxious about how it would translate to the live stage. Alex Gonzales et chaque lived up to the “they sound a little like My Bloody Valentine” label without being a rip-off, and completely OWNED the Gobi tent.

Most Technically-Superior Band : Fantomas
Mike Patton (Faith No More, Mr. Bungle) could also have won the award for “Least Listenable Act” as well as the “Act with the Most Fart and Burp Sounds” award. However, we have to give props to the man who has obviously been taking a lot of cues from such experimental masters as John Zorn and Frank Zappa. Part jazz/metal, part thrash and part indigestion, these guys took your Uncle Charlie’s “pull my finger” trick and made it look as complicated as doing calculus with an active nuke up your butt. Equal parts Cobra, bean curd and Mothers of Invention, Fantomas may not be coming to a town near you, but if this floats your air biscuit, check out Suspended Animation, the group’s latest release, containing 30 tracks laced with cartoon melodies.

Crankiest Band : New Order
Would someone please change Bernard Sumner’s diaper? Jeezus. While I was pretty impressed that they opened up with the old Joy Division tune Atmosphere, it was a bit like French-kissing my sister. Incestuous, but exciting (Ed: media assassin does not have a sister, but he French-kissed mine one time). The set was a bit too heavy on the newer stuff (did anyone really buy Republic or that last one? Is anyone going to buy the new one?). The new stuff isn’t bad, but when the only two classic New Order tracks you get are Bizarre Love Triangle and Blue Monday, you can’t help but feel like they’re sticking out their fat little hands and asking for your money. I wouldn’t discourage anyone from checking them out, they are one of the most influential bands of their genre, but just don’t kiss their ass about it. They’re certainly not going to kiss yours.

Best Overall Band (Sunday, and of the Entire Festival) : The Arcade Fire
My expectations were unrealistically high for The Arcade Fire. Having seen them on Conan O’Brien, I thought I knew what to expect. A lot of antics, and a very good live performance, and that’s what we got. How could I be disappointed? Quite the opposite, I was elated. The crowd atmosphere was like a family, everyone was talking to each other, cheering like one big happy family, and when it was over, we all cried out, “That’s IT?! It’s OVER?!?!” While it was over too soon, we were treated to two of the band’s members climbing up the scaffolding and banging their drumsticks on it during Neighborhood 2 (Laika). I have it on good authority that one of them cut his hand pretty badly, bad enough that the blood was POURING onto the keyboard, never missing a note. Their interviews at Los Angeles’ KCRW (www.kcrw.com) state that they want to remind the audience that they’re in the presence of live musicians, and they succeed in this goal. There’s no way you can ignore The Arcade Fire live, and even the most jaded of us have been won over to Funeral, the band’s debut album that has met with nearly universal critical praise. And hell, when you have a band with 11 people in it, you’d think if they sucked at least a few of them would recognize it and go get a job at Denny’s or something.

Upcoming shows

Cornelius
May 14, 2009, The Mayan, Los Angeles
CANCELED!! AAARRRRGHHHH!!!!!!
This sucks. They canceled because of the swine flu scare. Pussies.



Mogwai
May 15, 2009, Belly Up Tavern, Solana Beach
Mogwai had damn well better not cancel because of swine flu. They could play in a pit of sewage and then rinse off in the ocean after a storm in Tijuana. It would probably make them play better.

The Juan Maclean / The Field
June 3, 2009, The Casbah, San Diego
It's on a Wednesday, but that just means only the truly cool will make it out for this one (I hope I can count myself among them).



Dinosaur Jr.
June 21, 2009, The Casbah, San Diego
A Sunday matinee show that starts at like 3:00 in the afternoon. I'm totally cool with that. Seeing Dino Jr. at the 'bah is going to be, well, fucking awesome. Yes, the video is a cover of the song by The Cure.

'twas the night before Coachella

Hard to believe that it's been more than a week since Coachella started. As usual, I've been listening to more than my fair share of music this week. Right now, it's the excellent I Love You But I've Chosen Darkness / Fear Is On Our Side LP that I finally found in my stacks this morning. Last night, I continued my Cure listening party with The Head On The Door, Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me, and Disintegration. I've been doing some shopping on the amazing Tonevendor Web site, but haven't had the guts to pull the trigger on what's in my shopping cart (vinyl copies of the first Scissor Sisters album and A Place To Bury Strangers, and a few other LPs and CDs). I'm thinking record shopping today, probably M-Theory. Luckily, San Diego record stores do not suck.

So Conner will kill me if I don't tell you the story of what happened the night before Coachella. We headed out into Indio, cruising Highway 111, looking for a place to eat. I suggested Chinese, he said no. I said no Italian. He said no pizza.

Fifteen minutes later we found ouselves at our usual haunt in La Quinta, The Beer Hunter. This place is great because it's got lots of sports up on the multiple TVs, and about a thousand beers to choose from. If anything could take our minds off of the wait we had to endure until the next morning, this was it.

So we eat and then head over to one of the area's many Target stores. I'd forgotton my all-in-one shampoo / body wash, so I figured I'd just make do with the cheapest bottle of shampoo I could find. This is a picture of it:


So we walk up to the counter where this pretty young girl is ready to check us out. I put the thing on the counter, she looks at it, she looks at me and says, "Is this for you?!" This amuses Conner to no end, as I immediately turn red and stammer, "Umm, umm, it's for my girlfriend."

She laughed in my face, but it was OK. There's not much that can spoil my mood that weekend.

So big gay mediaassassin's big gay shampoo bottle is sitting in my other bathroom, where it will be likely used by guests and such, and where I'll never have to see it again.

P.S. I am not gay.

P.P.S. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Cure Retrospective and Post-Coachella Blues - Was it all just a dream?

Today, I worked from home. Normally when I do this, I check out the excellent podcast Deeper Shades of House, but today, I decided to pay homage to The Cure and listen to no less than their first six (American) albums back-to-back. As I suspected, these albums haven't lost a thing for me. I'm still in love with these songs, as much now as ever before.

First up, Boys Don't Cry, which they released as a three-piece, I believe. The band did several songs from this one in that final, infamous encore where they had the power turned off on them.

Next, 17 Seconds, from like 1980. The bands second-last encore consisted entirely of songs from this one, including M (one of my all-time faves), Play For Today, and the great closing song A Forest.


After that, Faith played itself out, and to this day it's one of my favorite Cure albums. I seem to remember that they played a lot of Faith material on the Bloodflowers tour.



The fourth album up was Pornography, which is also the first in the "trilogy" series (including Disintegration and Bloodflowers). Pornography has also long been a favorite of mine. The guts it took to put two nearly-identical songs back-to-back (The Siamese Twins, The Figurehead)! As similar as they are, I have to say I love them both.



Next up was The Top, which I've probably listened to in its entirety less than a lot of their stuff, but it's still a great album. I remember watching the movie The Cure In Orange on the big screen when I was younger, and when they opened it up with Shake Dog Shake, it was explosive, just as they open this album up with it.

Finally, I'm listening to Japanese Whispers, which was actually three singles and five B-sides that they released as an album in 1983. This one includes the high school favorite Let's Go To Bed that we'd always sing to girls at parties, and the all-time classic Lovecats that we used to play on the bass guitar and Glockenspiel back in the same era.


So I'm listening to all of this, and I decide it's time to see if the classic In Orange is available on DVD. Nope. Blu-Ray? Not that either. Well, hell, I've got a VCR/DVD burner, so I just threw that in. I'm not sure if it will work, but I'm going to give it a shot. It would make a great little present for any Cure fan, especially this one.

You know, as you drive back from Coachella, you get on the 10 West or whatever freeway, whatever direction you're driving. You start looking around at the cars around you, listening to that special set of CDs you've prepared for the long trip home, and you wonder, how many of these people were there with us? How many of these people was I standing next to last night, two, three nights ago, in the blistering heat of the Outdoor Theatre in the middle of the day? In the dark, warbling night of the Sahara tent?

As you check freeways off your list like peeling items of clothing before getting into the shower, you start to feel farther and farther away from it all. The reality of Monday is starting to seep into the cracks in this utopian time, displacing the all-encompassing feeling of living in this otherworldly society, this temporary, but very real existence. The people around you in the cars start to look more normal, like they actually could exist outside of the LA club scene, outside of The Casbah.

By the time you get back to your normal existence, you're naked. You're completely stripped of this coat of armor provided you by 50,000 other fanatics, the relative anonymity it provides you, and the total lack of responsibility with the exception of having a unique and memorable experience. You feel a little uneasy, it's startling how easy it is to acclimate to the heat, the dirt, the volume and intensity, the sound and the fury of it all.

It's all so surreal, it's a mirage almost. You get there, you can't believe you're there. Sunday night, you sit around talking about how you can't believe it's over. And Monday, and every day after that for about two weeks, you sit around wondering if it wasn't all just some illusion.

Post-Coachella Blues, Volume 1

So today, I finally broke down and signed up for Twitter.

Let me be clear. I really think Twitter is to the Internet what some people thought punk rock was to The Decline of Western Civilization. Equivalent.

It just seems like such a stupid thing. You're limited to like 140 characters. The frosted side of me says, well, you just have to be concise. The whole wheat side of me says, it's just pure fuckwittery, and how can anything meaningful happen in 140 characters?

Anyway, I knew I needed to get on the Coachella Twitter thingy because that's how they're doing their updates. Now I actually have to check this shit. Fuck. Plus, Amanda Fucking Palmer asked me to get on her Twitter feed. Not personally, but since I was one of the perhaps 300 people who helped her safely crowdsurf from the stage to the sound booth, I feel somewhat obliged.

Goddamn you, Amanda Palmer. You're so awesome. I hate you.

Coachella 2009 Review - Sunday

Coachella 2009 - Friday review
Coachella 2009 - Saturday review

Sunday was the day we were looking forward to more than anything else. This was probably due to the fact that My Bloody Valentine, who Coachellans have been screaming for for years, were scheduled to do a 70-minute set. But Sunday, more than any other, provided fewer tough choices and a clearer path from start to finish than any other day. Let's review.

We get through the gates later than ever this year, as usual for Sunday, at about 11:45 a.m. We camel up with water, sit in the shade and wait until about 12:40 to make our move.

12:45 - We join the gathering crowd at the Outdoor stage for Mexico City's Mexican Institute of Sound. These guys prove what my best friend (who grew up there) has been telling me all along: Mexico City fucking rocks.

"Does everyone have everything they need? Sunblock? Water? Girlfriend? Ecstasy?" the singer asked. These chilangos had a good-sized crowd for an early Sunday afternoon, and had them moving despite the punitive heat.



1:30 - We head over to the main stage to check out The Knux. Their DJ was spinning a lot of classic stuff and warming up the crowd before they went on. To be fair, I'm not a fan of hip-hop, so it didn't blow me away, but it wasn't bad.

2:10 - We enter the Gobi tent for Friendly Fires. I'd put them in the same category as White Lies, but maybe not quite as good. They do sound like a band from the '80s that got lost in the shuffle, and they've got a great sound and great energy.

3:25 - We're still in Gobi, watching Sebastien Tellier. He was doing some really cool stuff with a vocoder on his voice, and even though he looked like the missing Allman Brother, I liked what I heard. Until he announced, "This is a song about my bisexuality," and then proceeded to start the song with the lyrics, "I'm..... aaaaa bi....sexxxxx....u....allllllll." Hmm. Not too subtle.

"Typical Frenchman," Conner joked.

"Yeah, dick like a glass of milk," I retorted.

Sebastien Tellier was good, despite some stupid lyrics

But seriously folks, bisexuality is all well and good. Singing about it? Fine. But being so obvious about anything is pretty lame.

Speaking of alternative lifestyles, we wanted to make sure we had a good place to stand for Antony and the Johnsons, so we cut out early and caught the last few songs from Lykke Li. Another act that I liked more online than in person, but I still liked her (or them) and would be willing to check more out. She's got a great voice, and they did live electronic music very well, something I always appreciate (speaking of which, that MSTRKRFT set was almost definitely an Ableton Live thing, which is something I use for my own production as well).

A&TJ ran a little behind schedule due to technical issues with the computer (go figure). Normally, they don't do this type of music, and it's hard enough to categorize/describe this act, so I'll just let you take a look at the last song they did, which I captured in full. I will say Antony was spot-on vocally, trilling and nearly scatting like a great old jazz diva, and I'd compare him to a male version of Bjork as far as his vocal control. Maybe that's why they collaborated on Dull Flame of Desire on Bjork's last album, Volta.



We had just enough time to scarf down some food and almost enough time to refill our water bottles before catching seminal LA punk rockers X. We missed a couple of minutes of their set, but other than that, we were there for the whole thing, and between John Doe, Exene and Billy Zoom, these guys are just fantastic. I'm not sure why people call them punk, it's more like punkabilly. Regardless, they rocked, and the crowd knew it.

X kicked serious ass in the Mojave tent

As soon as X was done, we high-tailed it over to the main stage to get in line to watch the one, the only, My Bloody Valentine. As I've said before, Loveless is the absolute best album of all-time, and like my love affair with The Smiths, I discovered them *just* after they played in the U.S. for the last time. Last November, I got to see MBV, and they exceeded my expectations, which is pretty impressive considering I've been waiting since 1991 to see them live.

Once again, they didn't disappoint. They were loud, not nearly as loud as they would have been in a closed theater, but way louder than anything that's ever been on the main stage at Coachella, for sure. The crowd seemed to be there for them, and not waiting for The Cure, but I was curious to see how they'd handle that last song.

I took advantage to look around during their legendary / infamous set-closer, the 20+ minute You Made Me Realize. This song is about three or four minutes of great riffs followed by over 15 minutes of sheer sonic bliss / torture. Then the band kicks back into the riff and finishes the show.

The funny thing was, there was always someone, maybe only one person, but at least one person cheering, holding their hands above their head, during the mind-numbing psychedelic experience the band refers to as "the holocaust." I saw grimaces, confusion, smiles, and anger, all on the same faces. I laughed at them. I knew how long this storm was going to last, and that's how I managed to get this video.



After the set was over, people staggered out like swatted flies who didn't quite die. I hated to leave and miss The Cure, but I had an agenda, and I had to keep to the schedule. I immediately hit the water station near the big stage where I'd just seen MBV, and heard two girls working at the water booth having this conversation:

Cool Water Chick: "Well, if they SUCK then why have they been around forever and why do they have millions of fans?"

Uncool Water Chick: "I like MUSIC! That's just NOISE!"

I walked up, handed her my bottle to refill and stated with a smile, "They're the BEST!!"

UWC: "No they're not!"

Me: "You either get it or you don't."

UWC: "No, I get it! That's BULLSHIT! Why would they have that much noise during an INTERMISSION?!?"

Me: "That wasn't an intermission, that was part of the SONG!"

UWC: "What?! That's STUPID!!"

Me: "Hey MOM, you must be really smart and all, since you're filling my empty water bottles for a living, so maybe you're right."

She proceeded to hand me my water bottle back and spew a series of obscenities that I think must have been in her employee manual or something, because I think she recited it from memory. I honestly believe in live and let live, but when you're being disrespectful and catch me in one of my moods, well, you should know better.

I headed off to Public Enemy, who rocked. It sounded like it was the original trifecta of Chuck D, Terminator X, and Flavor Flav. FF kept jumping into the audience. "OK, left side? I jump in you gonna catch me? OK, here I come!" Repeat this with the right and middle and you get my drift. Chuck D asked the crowd to hand him back, "He's 50 years old y'all!"

Chuck D also said, "Now that we've got President Obama, it's more important than ever to PAY ATTENTION. We're living in the age of misinformation, people, so any information you get, QUESTION IT! Attention is the cheapest price you can pay in this country, America."



After that, I headed over to check out the last half of The Orb. I'm not sure what it is with me and The Orb, and I know some of my friends won't love me as much for saying it, but I'm not sure I get it anymore. I need to try to listen to some of their newer stuff. I didn't recognize a thing, and it didn't sound that appealing to me, honestly.



10:10 - I'm in the Sahara tent, waiting for the fathers of industrial music, Throbbing Gristle. I figured there would be a huge, weird crowd of people, and I was wrong on both counts. Despite the band starting late after a prolonged soundcheck, the number and freak factor of the crowd were both low. These were very normal-looking people in here. I didn't see a single tattoo nor giant earlobe plug amongst the onlookers. What I did see that freaked me out were a lot of younger people DANCING to TG. I did not expect that.

I also didn't expect to actually find beauty in their music. Sure, some of it is noisy, banging, clanging aggression, but some of it is actually very melancholy and wonderful. The song Hamburger Lady used to freak me out until I heard the lyrics for the first time last night.



I saw a good bit of TG and then headed over to the Sahara tent to catch part of Etienne de Crecy. This guy is like a precursor to Daft Punk and Justice, and I loved what I heard online of him. When I made it inside, he was doing one of the tracks I knew, so I was stoked. His light show was pretty cool, but it was pretty mellow for a Sunday night. I didn't mind, and neither did the thousands packed into the tent, but it didn't seem like he got the crowd going to the level that Justice did last year, for instance. But that's just what I saw.



After a few songs, I realized I'd probably rather check out some more Throbbing Gristle, so I headed back to Mojave. It was getting pretty weird, with Genesys pulling out one of his fake breasts and showing it to the crowd, but he also played to the VIP area on the stage. This was interesting because every other performer had ignored the VIP area to this point.

At this point, I decided to head back to the main stage to see if I could find Conner. It turned out to be pretty easy, and I was happy to catch the last part of The Cure's set. I managed to catch the last two songs of the last encore, If Only Tonight We Could Sleep and probably my favorite Cure song of all time, The Kiss. Both songs from Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me. Notable.



Next, second encore. At Night, M, Play For Today and A Forest. I thought that was it, but then they came back on. Robert Smith said, "We're only allowed to play one song. Fuck!" Then they proceeded to play Three Imaginary Boys. We thought it was over. It wasn't.

They played Boys Don't Cry. The small crowd of dedicated fans started to sing along. The festival organizers cut the power to the PA. The band kept playing. The entire crowd sang at the top of their lungs to compensate for the fact that we couldn't hear Robert's voice anymore. We thought they'd stop after that.

They didn't.

Conner turned to me at this point and said, "They said something at the beginning like they'd play until we left."

They started playing Jumping Someone Else's Train. The crowd tried to sing along, but fewer people knew the words. They tried anyway. The organizers cut the power to the amps onstage. The drummer kept playing audibly, and the rest of the band kept playing silently. The crowd cheered. They screamed. They clapped. They sang LOUDER. It was no use.

Coachella was over.

It didn't matter in the end. This crowd was the type of dedicated fans I love to be around. There's nothing quite like having like-minded people around you. When you've got thousands of them around you, all the better. It sucked that we didn't get to hear everything that Smith and the guys had in store for us, but it didn't matter. What really mattered was that we were surrounded by all these people, these men, women, girls and boys, who came for the same reason we did. To experience Coachella to its fullest. To stay until the very end, no matter what that means. This year, it meant something truly special and unique.

Conner may have put it best: "As I reflect more on that final moment with the lights on, sound off and crowd singing... I realize there are maybe a handful of concert moments for me that rank with it in such profound significance. It was so perfect it almost seemed staged. If we were duped, I don't want to know."

Just before Leonard Cohen I met a character who was all over the map with music. A lot like we are. This guy talked about how he schedules his whole life around this thing. I tell him, it's like a holiday.

Just as the band started, he turned to me. He knew as I knew that you don't talk during sets. He looked me in the eye, shook my hand and said, "Happy Coachella."

And this is why we do what we do.

Until next year,

-Mediaassassin

Coachella 2009 Review - Saturday

Robochrist 's Hand of Man picked up cars, crushed 'em and dropped 'em

Coachella 2009 - Friday review
Coachella 2009 - Sunday review

I won't lie to you, people, we were not excited about the Saturday lineup. Then again, we weren't excited about the Friday lineup either, and that turned out OK, hey? So we do our usual ritual of Monster, water, pills (aspirin), ice (frozen water), beer (Mexican), lime juice (we bought like a 2-liter from the local Food 4 Less), and beef jerky. This was all after our second consecutive breakfast at Denny's on the corner of Highway 111 and Monroe.

The funny thing about that is, on Thursday when we were preparing for the weekend, we watched about three Simpsons and four Family Guy episodes right in a row. In one of the Simpsons, Homer says something to Marge like, "Even though I'm mad on you, I would never take it out on you physically. I'll take it out on my own body. Come on, we're going to Denny's." As we knew we'd be frequenting the place and we were about three sheets to the wind, this made us laugh until we coughed hairballs.

Mmmmm, Coachellaaaaaaaaaa

Got into the venue just a little bit later than the day before. The full body cavity search of years gone by is now tantamount to a friendly handshake and a look in the eyes. I guess they don't need to know the exact diameter of your colon if there's no meathead headliner band, and that's OK with me. The old search really set a negative tone for the event, and this new, more reasonable, respectful search just makes a lot more sense.

We started the (much hotter) day in the shade of the Mojave tent. The annoying flies that were absent the day before had returned as they had in previous years, and seemed to live to pester us humans who had only come hundreds of miles to blow our minds. These things live for like a day and they spend a really big portion of their lives making ours hell. I'm so deep.

So we're sitting in Mojave and Minnesotan rapper P.O.S. comes on. I have to say, for a genre I don't like, I was pretty impressed. He had a very positive message, and talked about the fact that if you love what you do, it doesn't matter how much money you make or how much vacation you get. It's not a new thought, but still a good one. He played guitar as well, sometimes, and made beats on a drum machine at other times. And his DJ was absolutely phenomenal.

Next up in Mojave, a band I was really excited to see, Ariel Pink's Haunted Graffiti. I thought they would sound like Marilyn Manson doing downtempo. Man, let me tell you, I'm not too big to admit that I was wrong. These guys were more like The Beach Boys meets Frank Zappa and The Mothers. There were moments of sheer genius, musically, but the singer is such a fucking tool. Any band that starts out with the singer shouting, "You can all kiss my arse!" had better be able to back it up, musically or physically. Sadly, the only thing these guys had in common with Marilyn Manson is that I bet they got the shit beat out of them in high school a lot, too.

Ariel Pink's Haunted Graffiti kinda sucked

It was just as well, because we headed over to the Gobi tent to see Bob Mould Band. This turned out to be a fantastic show, chock fulla hits ("If they were hits," I joked, "we'd be watching this show on the main stage.") from Bob's career with such cornerstone Minneapolis bands as Husker Du and Sugar. Not to mention his like seven solo albums. It was just a barrage of upbeat, uptempo rock and roll from start to finish. And you could just tell that the crowd's high expectations were exceeded every step of the way.




We hurried back over to Mojave to catch the tail end of TheNewNo2, which as it turns out is George Harrison's kid's band. I liked what I heard online a little better than what I heard in person, but I did like what I heard on that stage. I'd like to hear more of them, and Conner agreed.

TheNewNo2 were pretty good

Hit the Outdoor Theatre for the first time Saturday to see Drive By Truckers. Country, but thoughtful country music. Maybe it's actually "western." I don't know, but it's got that certain something that makes me think, this doesn't suck nearly as much as it should.

Drive By Truckers are pretty cool, actually

Bopped over to Paolo Nutini for a few songs, trying to find Tina (who recommended me to A Place To Bury Strangers and also suggested I check out Bajofondo). Bluegrass. Good for what it was, but a little goes a long way.

Paolo Nutini at Coachella 2009

Next up, Amanda Palmer. I had no idea she was the singer for Dresden Dolls, but if I did it wouldn't have mattered much, because this turned out to be The Moment that everyone is going to be talking about for years to come when they talk about Coachella 2009.

We always like to stand dead center in the middle. At Coachella, it's on a polo field, you know, so they bury the "snake," the long cables that connect the soundboard at the back of the tent to the stuff on stage. So you can see where they buried the snake. We like to stand on that strip of sod.

So Amanda Palmer comes out and makes this grand entrance. All these people got all painted up and ran out with her to the theme music from 2001 (whatever it's called, leave me alone, I don't know the title). There must have been 20 of them, all painted up and stuff. So she comes out with another woman who played electric stand-up bass, and just threw down a set that would have been impressive with any of the elements... her voice, her piano playing, or the bass. She regales us with tales of writing songs with Neil Gaiman, her book of photos "shot all around the world," and how one of her songs got banned in the U.K., "for... I don't know what the fuck for... because it was funny," as she described it.

She drank from a bottle of red wine the whole time. She had a filthy mouth. She covered Our Time Is Running Out by Muse beautifully and reverently. She played the piano like she was classically trained. She took a picture of herself and her bassist with a Macbook laptop and had her bassist tweet it on Twitter.com during the set.

She had the crowd in the palm of her hand.

All of that could have been a moment at Coachella. But she made sure that she had The Moment. The one that everyone would be talking about.

"OK, so what I'm going to do now is I'm going to attempt to crowd surf from this point," she started, pointing at her feet, "to that point," she continued, pointing to the soundboard at the back of the tent.

Just over our shoulders.

"Are you gonna drop me?"

"NOOO!!" the crowd roared back.

"Have you got me?!" she asked.

"YEEAAAAHH!"

And with that, it started. She jumped into the crowd, mock-swimming her way over the hundreds of fans who passed her back, slowly towards us and the soundboard, all to the tune of Flight of the Valkyrie. As we helped to hold her up, I managed to take this video.



After that, someone handed her a ukulele. She addressed the crowd, "OK, we're going to try this, is the sound working?" It was. "OK, I need everyone to sing along on this one OK?"

The crowd happily obliged her, as we all, every one of us, sang along to Creep.



Next, we headed over to see Calexico on the Outdoor stage. They were great, but we couldn't get very close at all, and after what we'd just seen, I'm not sure anything could compare. It was like seeing Mogwai. You just can't watch anything else too soon after that, and have it make an appropriate or accurate impression.



We jockeyed for position for Fleet Foxes, who put out an album that Bitchfork named as their best album of 2008. A pretty high honor, really, but you have to take Pitchforkmedia.com with a grain of salt sometimes. If they say something's good, it's probably great, and if they say it's great, odds are it's amazing. But if they say it sucks, well, judge for yourself (note: If I say something sucks, it does. End of discussion).

Fleet Foxes had the most amazing harmonies of any band at the festival. Despite the fact that they claimed to be having problems onstage, you'd never know it. Although, I have to admit, I'd never heard them before. Conner and Pitchfork's recommendations are enough for me to take it in good faith, and I'm glad I did. They sounded better than Crosby, Stills and Nash on their best day at times, and their musicianship shone in the dying light of the day.



Next up, Band of Horses. As Bamoe put it when I described this to him, "There's no middle ground with those guys." Or, to translate it into my language, what I liked, I really liked, but what I didn't like, I HATED." They were just too generic, overall. They could be a band that makes a guest appearance on The OC if it were still around. They could play some stuck-up bitch's pool party and play a sad song when the cute guy from Bumblefuck Idaho doesn't get the cheerleader who's dating the abusive football player or something. I don't know, I've never seen the show. I just know it sucks. But oh well, what was I missing? M.I.A.? Fucking puke. Junior Boys and Electric Touch? Don't know 'em, sadly. Crookers? What I heard of Crookers sounded like the musical equivalent of a sushi fart.



We dug in for Jenny Lewis, who I guess used to be the singer for Rilo Kiley. I don't know anything about Rilo Kiley other than they're supposed to be good. Hearing Jenny Lewis I can guess that might be right. Her voice was amazing. Her drummer was great. She had a guy playing slide guitar and another she was playing off of onstage. But the sum of the parts added up to "I like her voice," and that was about it.

We kind of hung around Glass Candy for a while, and I liked what I heard a lot. Not sure about much with them, other than they covered Computer Love by Kraftwerk, so they get mad points for that, but that's all I know. I wish I'd seen more.



Finally, we were off to see Toronto's answer to all the other big DJ duos in the world today, MSTRKRFT. While I'm a huge fan of their album The Looks, I'm a little slow warming up to Fist of God, which just came out. I'll give it a few more listens, but this just sounds a little too hard and too much like a Justice clone to me at this point.

Unlike Daft Punk, you could actually see these guys. But there was a catch. From where I was standing, you couldn't see them onstage AT ALL. You could see them in the circular movie thingies on either side of the stage, rocking out and chain smoking cigarettes. But then, when you've got a song on your album called 1,000 Cigarettes, you might expect that sort of thing.

The show was a lot like the new album. Though they mixed in stuff from The Looks, it seemed to mostly be harder stuff from that album and stuff from Fist of God. I have hope I'll grow to like the new stuff because I loved their last one so much, but we decided to leave a little early so we could hit the waiting cooler full of Tecate sooner. It turned out to be a good move. We went from Sahara to the motel in 50 minutes. The only sad part was that we were so tired and sore we couldn't stay up long enough to get any serious drinking in, and crashed at 2:15, a full hour earlier than the night before.

Coachella 2009 - Friday review
Coachella 2009 - Sunday review