Naked Wizard Tased By Reality from Tracy Anderson on Vimeo.
As it stands, I’m thinking Tracy Anderson may be the Abraham Zapruder of the “Naked Guy Gets Tazed” incident.
Archive for the 'Coachella '09' Category
*Me not discussing The Killers set with Mistress of Fashion in the VIP.
FRIDAY
Leonard Cohen – A+. Magic.
Paul McCartney – A+. Like some of the new stuff, but from the Wings tracks on it was amazing. Tears all around. His band is ridiculously tight. Paul was just as jacked as we were. Every time there was a close up of Paul on those 10 story $2M HD screens, I couldn’t help but trick my mind into believing that George and John were on either side, old and gray and still killing it four decades later.
Beirut – B. The 2 minutes I heard through the air vent in the porta-potty was better than the majority of Conor Oberst’s set I watched from the sweet spot.
The Presets - B. This was their chance to go down in Coachella Sahara Tent history, but they’re still just that cool band from Australia.
Conor Oberst and the Mystic Valley Band – C. Could’ve been a B- if he wasn’t so annoying. “Cape Canaveral” was awesome though.
Buraka Som Sistema – B. Fun. Fun. Fun. But too much of a good thing….
Crystal Castles – D. Nothing specific. They were just bad. The idea of them is way cooler than the reality of them, especially live and during the day.
SATURDAY
TV on the Radio – C. FIRE YOUR SOUND GUY. SERIOUSLY. I KNOW YOU’VE BEEN BUDS SINCE WAY BACK WHEN WILLIAMSBURG WAS CHEAP AND COOL, BUT HE’S OUT OF HIS LEAGUE NOW AND HE’S HOLDING YOU BACK. FIRE HIM. FIRE HIM NOW AND THEN YOU AT LEAST WON’T HAVE TO BLAME HIM LATER FOR BEING THE REASON YOU WERE FORGOTTEN.
Chemical Brothers – C. The first time I’ve ever left a Chem Bros show. Spent the second half sitting on my ass on the lawn. Wasn’t that psyched to see them in the first place and all my suspicions were confirmed. They were there for the check. It was written all over their bored faces. Probably not too happy that they were playing before the “All We Do Is Party” guys either, but that’s not my problem. I didn’t pay a hundred fucking bucks I don’t have to watch you smoke cigarettes.
MSTRKRFT – C. Unlike The Presets who I held high hopes for, I held none for these guys, so they couldn’t really let me down. Not terrible, but not that great either. They were there. We were there. They pressed buttons and we danced. That’s about it. The visuals get an F. Super lame to have your own faces be projected on screens for the entirety of your set when you’re not even fucking singing. I really don’t care to stare at your bobbing head, but obviously you think I would so that makes you even lamer.
Band of Horses – C. Sloppy and boring. Like nearly every Lykke Li wanna-be you though was hot when you were rolling on E in the VIP until you woke up with her back at La Quinta and
Fleet Foxes – A+. Angel voices. Flawless performance. The highlight of Saturday for sure. For once a band that exceeded my expectations ten-fold. One minute I was half-naked, sweating my balls off in a crowd of 50,000 wasted freaks on a polo field in Indio and the next I was sitting alone in a coonskin cap and wooly mammoth fur boots, cooking wild salmon over a fire in my log cabin in Alaska and I liked it.
SUNDAY
Lykke Li – A. 100% pure rock star, especially for somehow making a party out of the face melting 4:05 slot. It was a thousand degrees out and yet the girl still got the crowd moving a bit.
Antony and the Johnsons – C. His voice was perfect, but the sound was completely fucked. And the whole idea of reinterpreting his songs for the desert probably sounded really good at the time, but the new arrangements completely disregarded what could be the most important element of Antony’s songs: tension. I just felt bad for him.
Peter Bjorn and John – C. Boring. It was approximately 163 degrees out and what better way to kick off your set than with the most unrecognizable sleeper you’ve ever written. Genius! Way to let ‘em know you’ve arrived. Hello Coachella, we are Peter Bjorn and John from Sweden and we have come to put you to sleep! Must be weird to look out and see that nearly the entire crowd is on their ass looking through their schedules to see who else is playing. And I like these guys! So bummed.
Yeah Yeah Yeahs – B. I don’t know. Was there, but I just don’t know. It wasn’t bad I know that. I was more interested in the idea that somewhere on the field there was a gang of girls dressed like Lykke Li who were “so not that into” the YYY’s set, all laughing about how they “totally used to dress like Karen O.” when they were sophomores.
Late of the Pier – A. The two songs I saw gave me hope for the future of music. They were crazy tight and their sound was perfect. Nice work, kids!
Public Enemy – A. Another case of the old guys at the party taking back the crown. Relevant as ever. Hard as ever. Crazy as ever. 50 year old Flavor Flav’s multiple stage dives, though poorly executed (feet and knees first), were a testament to the fearlessness that rocketed them into superstardom in the first place.
My Bloody Valentine – A. Where the fuck did they meet? How does Bilinda Butcher not blink for an hour at a time? What planet are they on? Is it the same one they take me to when they play? What was the moment like when they first decided to create that insane ”You Made Me Realise” white noise jam? How do you rehearse something like that?
The thread that connects nearly every commercially successful band in history together is that they write lyrics that most people can identify with.
Most artist’s songs trigger nostalgia, memories of, or longing for, moments that have already been created, but MBV’s vocals are so buried that most people have no idea what they are saying. Instead of singing along, we actually listen and hold onto the tiny bends and tonal shifts in their soundscapes that create entirely new, original stories in each of our heads, completely personal psychic journeys to uncharted territories. Their sonic glory exists in the now.
That the crowd stayed through the 20 minutes of deafening white noise during ”You Made Me Realise” is a testament to whatever the fuck it is they are doing up there that makes them not of this earth, because you know have of those glow stick and KROQ kids have no idea what they’re listening to. Whether they were soaking it up or waiting for something to happen, I guaranty they went somewhere, a place that scares them, a place they’ve never dreamed of, a place they will never forget.
They went somewhere.
And the few people that did go to get churros and Red Bull colas probably don’t get Rothko either. Their loss.
I left the earth in a rocket ship as the San Andreas swallowed up the festival beneath me. I traveled time. I confronted death. There is no fear left in me.
This conversation of how MBV fits into not just music, but art history, went on for the majority of 2 hours after their set ended.
I could go on forever. I will go on forever.
The Cure – B-. Seen them before. They sounded great. I left early.
Saw this guy getting wrapped and rolled out of the venue and spent the drive back to Palm Springs discussing the possibilities of what it was that inspired him get naked in the first place.
1. Too many caps. Too many stems.
2. Too much acid.
3. Too much ecstasy.
4. PCP
5. He simply forgot his clothes.
6. He’s simply batshit crazy. (Though one could also say that you’re the crazy one. It’s 110 degrees and you’re wearing a fucking coonskin cap.)
7. He planned the whole thing just so he could get tazed by cops. He loves it! It’s his thing. The Naked Guy drives to public places where he knows there will be a huge police presence, drops his drawers and taunts them. The cops wrestle, punch, kick, mace and taze The Naked Guy then throw him in jail where The Naked Guy prays for a midnight gang rape. The Naked Guy gets out of jail and streaks again. Repeat.
8. Franz Ferdinand. They play that one awesome bass line so incredibly well that he just couldn’t help himself.
9. The Naked Guy came to the venue naked with the middle-aged guy who was dressed like a party clown all weekend, and spent the entire drive to the venue trying to talk party clown out of wearing his clown suit.
NAKED GUY
I’m telling you it’s not a good idea, dude. Clowns freak people out. Especially people on drugs.
PARTY CLOWN
Wrongo, buddy! Everybody love clowns!
(honking horn)
And you’re one to talk. I think you should consider covering that thumb dick of yours. Nobody likes to party with “The Naked Guy.”
NAKED GUY
Are you kidding me?! People love “The Naked guy!”
Party Clown and The Naked Guy get out of the car and we know what happens next.
10. He was frozen alive in prehistoric times. The vibration from My Bloody Valentine’s sound check opened up the San Andreas Fault, the heat from the molten lava below unfroze him and he climbed out of the belly of the earth in 2009 where it is no longer cool to be “The Naked Guy.” (Though I’m sure they’d love him at Burning Man.)
11. In another dimension he’s clothed.
*Thanks to Nael Shehade for his eagle eye and aim. Clown by Joe Mud. Franz Ferdinand quip by Dan Tice.
Because they’re one of the only bands in LA that matters…
No Age - “Eraser”
Because they are gentlemen and scholars and make white boy dance pop proud…
Friendly Fires - “Paris”
Because she is a goddess and sings to me and only me…
Lykke Li (w/ Bon Iver) “Dance, Dance, Dance”
Lykke Li & Bon Iver doing ‘Dance Dance Dance’ in L.A from Lykke Li on Vimeo.
So I can squeeze out the rest of the tears left over from Friday…
Antony and the Johnsons
So I can go deaf with a smile…
My Bloody Valentine - “Only Shallow” (Live London 1991)
Need I explain?
Public Enemy & The Roots - “Bring the Noise” (Live)
Because I am interested in the truth.
Liars - “SexBoy”
Because their kind of awesome even when they’re playing on fire escapes in NYC and their sound sucks.
TV on the Radio – “Dancing Choose”
To help her shake off that postnatal weight…
M.I.A. – “Sunshowers”
Beards.
Band of Horses – “Is There a Ghost”
Beards, and because it will be sunset and a good time to sway…
Fleet Foxes - White Winter Hymnal
Or, if not, maybe some of this…
Crookers (vs. Kid Cudi) - “Day ‘N’ Nite”
To rock the fuck out while being reminded of how (not so) crazy I am…
TURBONEGRO - “GO NATIVE!”
Turbonegro - “Sailor Man”
Gonna party like it’s 1999, literally…
The Chemical Brothers – “Hey Boy Hey Girl”
And then like it’s 2006…
MSTRKRFT “Easy Love” (2006 is for Suckers)
Dancing my face off…
The Presets – “My People”
Buraka Som Sistema – “Sound of Kuduro”
So I can say I’ve seen him…
Paul McCartney “A Day in the Life” (Live at Anfield Stadium, Liverpool 2008)
To cry just a little bit…
Leonard Cohen – “Chelsea Hotel”
To feel both worldly and dumb…
Beirut – “Elephant Gun”
To hear this song…
Conor Oberst and The Mystic Valley Band - “Cape Canaveral”
To see if they’re any better live than the rest of the bands they sound like…
White Lies – “Death”
(OK. Would’ve liked to have shown the video here, but the embedding function’s been disabled on youtube so thieving heathens like me will be discouraged from helping promote the band apparently. And so I say “good luck to you, sirs.”)
To really listen…
M. Ward “Hold Time”
With hopes they’re fun…
Los Campasinos – “You! Me! Dancing!”
Because Ian Curtis is dead, Primal Scream isn’t on the bill and The Jesus and Mary Chain are still in some form of limbo.
A Place to Bury Strangers – “To Fix The Gash In Your Head”
The truth of it? Who knows.
Either way I stand by my hopes for a Tom Cruise appearance.
OK, maybe not “perfect,” but definitely “really good” or “good enough?” — whatever — Here’s the “leaked” official Coachella lineup (via Ryan Seacrest’s Blog of all places).
Lots of faves and peeps playing. Guess one more way to make the festival recession proof is to actually have good acts play.
Still don’t see a Sean Penn replacement though.
Maybe they could have Tom Cruise dress up as Maverick and have him drop some Scientology knowledge between headliners on the main stage. Throw the ghost of L. Ron Hubbard up on the jumbotrons and have them do some next-level interactive Dianetics spoken-word shit.
Fuck it — They could throw E-meters and Narconon booths out on the field and get stressed-out, fucked-up festival-goers “clear” and off drugs before they even reach the parking lot.
No more subconscious chatter about your dead pet guinea pig crippling your ability to form meaningful relationships, no more time, money and precious life force wasted, spent late nights dancing half-naked by the pool after the E you took turned out to be acid and Daft Punk left your brains splattered all over the Mojave tent canvas. No more body thetans. No more Xenu.
Just you and the “Eighth Dynamic.”
