In any case, I should give a small disclosure here that at the moment, I'm singing along {at the top of my lungs - sorry neighbors} to Treehouse by I'm From Barcelona, who I'm officially naming co-winner of Lollapalooza. That may tint my perspective on all things palooza. But more on that later...
I think key to the experience is: 1) a compatible festival-goer and 2) a fantastic hotel that's not so far away from Grant Park, because God knows, if you've been standing in the Chicago August heat for 10 hours, the last thing you want to do is walk 2 miles. Luckily for me, Hotel 71 turned out to be a lovely choice. The view from our 29th story room provided a breathtaking vantage of the Chicago river (shown left), and the room itself was enormous. [Though compared to the 1/5 sized room that Tony and I shared in San Francisco just a day before, my sense of scale may have been skewed.]But as for Lollapalooza itself, a quick rundown of the logistics before it's on to the music.
- Chicago in August, and I don't know if you know this, but it's like death. The entire weekend of the festival was dressed in 90-95 degree temperatures with 80% humidity, and for a girl from the desert who's used to scoffing at 90 degrees from the safety of her dry 110 degree summers, experiencing that kind of humid discomfort is a mighty humbling experience.
- To their corporatizing credit, AT&T (the bastard fathers of the Perry Farrell lovechild called Lollapalooza) displayed genius marketing know-how, erecting a tent featuring, sure, cell phone charging stations and access to the internet and the company's Blue Room website, but also FOUR HUGE AIR CONDITIONING UNITS. Needless to say, it was the place to be. Had I not any sense of human decency and concert-going ethics, I may have stayed in that tent the whole weekend. They were playing the big sets on widescreen flat panels, for crying out loud.
- Compared to most other festivals, Lollapalooza is a marketing exec salivating all over his new Armani suit. When you have a "Myspace Stage", that's when you should realize something may have gone wrong with the dream. For those managing to look past the brand names, there were some redeeming points in the consumerist venue: Green Street, for example, a collection of booths offering eco-friendly wares such as hemp messenger bags and guitar straps recycled from old car seat belts; exhibits from student and upcoming artists, which provided a nice respite from the hectic schedule of stage-hopping, featuring my favorite of the group, the "safety bunnies" shown above by artist David Todd Trust; and the surprisingly low-cost food tents. (Chocolate-covered strawberry kabobs at a music festival? Awesome.)
- The setting for the fest couldn't have been better (humidity notwithstanding) with the Chicago skyline as its backdrop and beautiful Grant Park as host, welcoming music lovers past Buckingham Fountain into its north and south wings.
But what of the music? Well. That all depends on who you are, as I'd find out as the sets progressed.
The very primary reason I was there was due to the fact that I was born in July. No really. I'm a Cancer, a very typical family-oriented, giving, and moody Cancer. So when my sister asked me to go with her to Chicago so that she could see two of her very favorite bands (Pearl Jam and Snow Patrol) play in a city to which she'd never been, I said, "Sure!" despite the fact I had no knowledge of the rest of the lineup. I'd consider myself a fan of fairly unknown, indie bands, but even these, such as The Rapture, were more familiar to me than most of the lineup. The 1900's and Electric Six, anyone? Anyone?
But I'm also very open to hearing new things, and let's just say that Snow Patrol to me is a bit like elevator music (I have to say it, Becky.) My sister Becky's tastes... well, let's say they're a bit more narrow. Remember that number one key to a good festival-going experience?
Friday, August 3 - Day One
- Helicopters. After we finally made it through the entrance, the first band we happened to wander past happened to be the first band I had ever seen in Chicago. Helicopters had been playing at the Double Door when local Jimmy was guiding us around the late night Chicago experience. So I've always felt a bit of a kinship with this Chi-town local band. They had managed to land a spot at Lollapalooza as the result of winning a Last Band Standing contest. The boys were excellent to see live again, and despite the 11:15 sun beating down on us, the small crowd that had gathered for their early set clearly appreciated their presence.
- The Fratellis. We moved on over to the aforementioned, ugh, Myspace Stage, to catch 2 songs in the set from The You-know-'em-and-love-'em-from-the-iPod-commericals Fratellis. Unlike the Helicopters' stage, which had grassy side areas blanketed in quiet shade, the Fratellis' stage was searing with sharp sun, the ground beneath us baseball field sand. And there's just no way to make that one-note Irish dancing music worth that kind of trouble. The rest of the crowd seemed to agree, standing stationary, staring ahead as if compelled to be there like it was a chore. So we moved on.
- Tom Schraeder. A 7 or 8 person one man band. Eclectic folk with a variety of stringed instruments and boy-girl vocals that reminded me a bit of Damien Rice soaked in alcohol. They were situated on the nice BMI stage: shade and grass. Beginning to see the pattern in the more favorable reviews?
- Viva Voce. I had known of VV from an old tune of theirs called Again, With Feeling and persuaded Becky it would be worth our while to pass up all of the other bands playing at the time to see them. Frankly, I can't remember a single thing about their set. I'm fairly sure I felt slightly disappointed. VV's more a studio band than anything else.
- The Polyphonic Spree. We found ourselves near the Spree's stage wishing to God that they would just stop. Becky's always despised PS with a passion for their wacky culty tendencies and off-the-wall music. I'd always thought her feelings were a bit extreme. I happen to love the song Soldier Girl, for instance. But on that day, with the speakers of the Lollapalooza Bud Light stage screaming horns and choral vocals into my ears like knife-tipped hammers, I had to agree with her. I mean, really, are they serious about those lyrics?
- Powerspace. To escape the cult of Spree, we ran back to the shade of the BMI stage where a band called Powerspace was doing what I assume they thought was playing music. Their crowd consisted mostly of confused-looking 30-somethings, 18 year-old girls with that ubiquitous middle swath of hair pulled backward from their forehead, and 19 year-old guys hoping to get said girls drunk later on. Powerspace themselves can only be described as a band desperate to be liked, an emo mess, the retarded and deformed offspring of Fall Out Boy and My Chemical Romance. Sadly, even the shade and grass couldn't convince me to subject my ears to that for any longer than half a song.
- Sparklehorse. Like Viva Voce, Sparklehorse failed to leave any real lasting mark in my memory despite the fact I own their album Good Morning Spider and count Chaos of the Galaxy among my top 50 favorite songs of all time. Unfortunate, really. I believe some of the reason lies with the fact that due to the crowd, we found ourselves at quite a distance from the stage and left somewhat early to get a better spot for The Rapture's set.
- The Rapture. Whoo! Alright - Yeah... Uh Huh. has been one of my favorite songs to listen to when I'm looking to move since I first heard it, so I was excited to hear these boys live. They did not disappoint. Surrounded by a crowd equally ready to bust a move, The Rapture put on a soulful and lively set of energetic new wavy music full of keyboard vigor and vim with cowbell enough to satiate even Christopher Walken.
{Day Two and Three to be continued...}
