Coachella Day Three 04-19-09After walking onto the Empire Polo Fields on Sunday
Coachella attendees were greeted by staff handing out ear plugs. This is the only day that this occurred and it is no coincidence that it is the night My Bloody Valentine played. Day three of Coachella allegedly had the hottest temperatures but I think there might have been a more consistent breeze because it didn't
feel as miserable. The crowd was also notably smaller.
I wore my "I'm Glad You're Alive" Mae Shi t-shirt because I try to rep LA bands when I go to non-LA shows. I had no less than fifteen people say "Yeah! The Mae Shi!" as they passed by me throughout the day. One such fellow had, on his person, Jeff Byron's old track jacket. (?!) Only at Coachella.
I did day three with three friends. Naturally, folks' tastes differ and since I'd just spent two days doing whatever I wanted, I often yielded to the will of the group. As a result I did a lot more pinballing from stage to stage than what is customary for me.
First stop of the day was
Vivian Girls. They continued to surpass mediocrity without qualifying for greatness. I knew both songs I heard and I can't even remember which ones they are. I really like Vivian Girls and I think their record is very good, but they need to add something to the formula if they want to keep their undeserved thus far stature.
My group was lured by the beat of the outdoor stage and so we came upon Camilo Lara's project The Mexican Institute of Sound, who were outstanding. There was a small but
dedicated crowd who were throwing the first party of the day. The Mexican Institute of Sound is sort of a Mexican analogue to The Roots, playing a diverse range of hip-hop sounds reinforced with a live backing band. Multicultural soup music runs the risk of just tasting like gruel, but Lara and his band keep it interesting song-to-song. One number might be based in rumba, the next might have its origins in electronic, the next big beat, etc. They were a perfect start to the day and I daresay that the hipsters at the Vivian Girls show missed-out on a
real live performance.
Shortly after that
No Age came on the Mojave stage and played a really solid set, repping The Smell with their brilliant noisepunk. The punkier aspects of the band felt small in a festival setting, but the noise washes were inspired. No Age's fuzz and feedback affect the brain just as oppressive heat does, and merging the two resulted a poignant concert experience. Randy Randall and Dean Spunt are nothing if not true to themselves. Smart stuff, one of the better sets of the day.
I was very interested in seeing Euro dancerock outfit
Friendly Fires again, but the Gobi tent was overflowed and we were not about to stand in the sun at 2:30pm. I did hear "Paris" and it sound fucking terrific. I'm sure they'll be back in town later this year.
Okkervil River played the mainstage while I was refilling my water bottle. After about a minute of melodramatic, poetic lyrics I was compelled to twitter "Okkervil River. Hipster Counting Crows." Is that an accurate assessment? I don't know, I only heard three minutes. I didn't like what I heard, though.
Similarly, Gaslamp Anthem could keep my friends and I for about half a song. Walking away I thought "Critics of The Airborne Toxic Event should redirect some of that energy toward these guys." There's no sonic similarity, but Gaslamp Anthem's sincerity is a bit much and something about the band felt forced.
While walking from underwhelming set to underwhelming set in the desert heat I got texts and twitters informing me that Fucked Up was blowing-up the Mojave tent with help from some Dandy Warhols and the No Age boys, while Bob Mould looked-on in approval. My only Coachella regret after not getting a cheaper hotel sooner is missing that set.
I like
Brian Jonestown Massacre, though this was my first time seeing their live show. At some point in the weekend
Travis Woods said to me "They're pretty much doing everything that is right about 60's and 70's rock" and I think that's a perfect assessment. At Coachella BJM seemed to be making an extra effort to play splendidly, perhaps to combat their reputation as a hit-or-miss live band. They set their psych-rock tendencies aside in favor of their softer 60's influence. It worked for them and they sounded great, though the set felt about two same-sounding songs too long for me.
The worst part was their fans. The BJM crowd was nearly entirely composed of the kind of stinking white-guy douchebags that give music festivals a bad name. Worthless, shirtless people with no regard for any one's personal space, the kind of guys you want to see an asskicking given to. ("Chillax, bro!") And the smoke in the tent was so bad that I had to tie a bandanna around my face, the only such incident of the entire fest.
Later I ate a terrible hamburger while sitting in some shade on the other side of the Mojave tent and had the pleasure of hearing a little of
Murder City Devils, who sounded great. It was too hot for music that loud and I don't think my friends would have been interested. They require further investigation because His Bloggership does have a weakness for horrorpunk.
I spent the rest of my Coachella parked at mainstage. I was with Cure Fans and they wanted a close look at the band. Standing outside from 5pm on was not nearly as miserable as it could have been. We were fortunate enough to be around some pretty polite people for most of the Sacrificial Ordeal.
I don't like Peter, Bjorn, and John but they were surprisingly nice to listen to. I didn't take any notes. Lykke Li sang on "Young Folks".
The Yeah Yeah Yeahs are a class act and they gave one of the more complete performance experiences of the weekend. The band focused on their newer material; this set was much less punkier than the one I remember from a few years ago. It was a touching hour of music, with Karen O.'s theatrics and crowd interaction leading the entire festival on a tour of emotions, from elation to melancholy. (His bloggership stammered in the throat during "Maps".)
The Yeah Yeahs have certainly finished their evolution into "The Karen O. Show," (I couldn't tell you a single observation I had about the rest of the band) but that's because she functions as a vessel for the dreams and desires of their fans. When Karen O. winces, you wince. When she smiles, you smile. She's enjoying the show as much as everyone watching. When the Yeah Yeah Yeahs first broke I thought they were just another entry into the garage rock revival sweepstakes, but once again the band has made a case that they're one of the greats of the decade. It's not always who you expect, is it?
Seeing My Bloody Valentine ten or so rows back from the barrier is one of the best memories Coachella has given me over the years. I can't decide if I liked MBV better last Thursday at The El Rey or Sunday night at Coachella, because seeing them indoor vs. outdoor is a very different experience in very subtle ways.
The most obvious difference is that when you see them indoors every song bounces off the walls and back at the crowd; the exhaustion one feels is akin to the feeling one gets after being in a fight. The shockwaves of sound can be better felt at an indoor MBV show, but outdoors the sound waves soar past you, passing through your body and into the body behind you like silver bullets.
The light show at Coachella was out of sight -- literally. At a close distance the only options were sunglasses or closed eyes. And when eyes were closed, the light still came through the eyelids. The sound still came through the earplugs. What My Bloody Valentine did on Sunday night was no less than obliterate the material world.
Much has been written about the "sonic holocaust," the 10-20 minute pure noise interlude that occurs at the end of "You Made Me Realise". My Bloody Valentine fans know what is coming and have a universal expectation and appreciation for the blood-letting blades of noise that MBV produces for an excruciating length. That's the point!
Non-fans and people unfamiliar with My Bloody Valentine, say younger folks who have been waiting half a day to see The Cure, feel differently.
So on Sunday, the sonic holocaust was given the unique opportunity to throw new piles of flesh into its ovens. The disparity in reactions was beautiful. Many people meditated. Many were visibly angry. Some cried, some laughed, and some began to act silly and delirious.
About thirteen minutes in, barely cracking the din of noise, I heard thin voices shouting "Security! Security!" I turned around to see a mad-eyed, extremely muscular man being barely held back by five or six others. He had begun pushing himself through the crowd and picked a fight. While MBV wailed-on the two security guards tried to grab him and pull him over the fence. His shirt tore and right as the band flew back into the finish of "You Made Me Realise" he took off running to make his escape, trailed in the ocean of people by security flashlights.
It was a profoundly cinematic moment given a real-time soundtrack during a very special and unique concert experience. I've never seen anything like it. I'm not sure the fight would have broken out during any other song.
Before the set my friends and I found ourselves surrounded by some younger guys in the late teens or early twenties. They had checked-out MBV on myspace and said "The music is really, but it didn't sound like it would be very loud." I explained to them the sonic holocaust. When they looked nervous, I took out a plastic baggie full of earplugs and distributed them. (I brought them for the very purpose.) Those fellas ended up
loving the show and I am pretty sure every one of them owns
Loveless by now. Afterwards, one of them pushed his way up to me just to say "Thank you! You saved my life!"
My friends and I got about six rows back from the guard rail and right as Robert Smith and the rest of
The Cure came out one of us turned ghostly pale and began to feel feint. All that waiting, sore feet, and sweaty backs for half a song may seem like a waste but somehow the journey of getting to the front seemed to be the point anyway. (Similarly, just going to Coachella is always better than any given set itself.) I spent the rest of The Cure's set sitting comfortably on the grass, the way I personally had wanted to from the beginning.
I like The Cure, but I don't get excited about The Cure. That having been said, Robert Smith has had this band for over thirty years and his practice, experience, and knowledge of his own songs is probably unsurpassed by all but a few musicians working today. (Obvious names like Dylan and McCartney come to mind.) I didn't know half the songs, probably liked just as few, and I was still thrilled. Latter day sins be damned, The Cure have integrity and I think everyone should see them live once.
Every year at Coachella there is the point where you have to decide it is time to leave. You never want to leave after the very last song is played because seeing the festival end would kill the illusory magic it casts. If you leave too early, you could miss the best song performance of the weekend. My friends had left and The Cure had finished their main set (before the encore) when it was time for me. It'll still be there when I go back next year. (And for that, can somebody
please talk some sense into Steven Patrick Morrissey or David Byrne?)
