Lollapalooza Two-Thousand and Nine: A Love Story

It rained on Friday, and more likely than anything else it's that residual moisture that kept the clouds of smoke hanging midair, rather than billowing up like they ought to have done. I read the plumes like smoke signals above the crowd. Cigarettes passed between friends; blunts passed between strangers. I'm no hippie, but the generosity of the whole situation really fucking got me going. Then again, I'm the most emotional person I've ever met.
It was later, like Sunday, and I was still looking for meaning in my surroundings, trading in smoke for peeling skin. The sun was so hot that I knew that I'd feel as though I were running a fever for the next week. I stood pressed against glamorous hipsters (Don't fucking act like hipsters aren't glamorous. They're the goddamn best. Unless they're ironic.) with mullets, hundreds of flailing sunburns. During Bat for Lashes I stared straight ahead at some man's shoulder blades; his burgeoning melanoma. I think that it was then, whilst watching the only performance I didn't entirely enjoy (Don't fucking defend that woman, either. Daniel sucks.) that I realized how goddamn miserable it can really be standing next to strangers who's sweat creeps in through the holes in your trustiest sneakers. I realized that my body, my nose and shoulders the exact same shade of red as the St. PetersBurgandy by O.P.I. on my nails, my feet blistered (I still can't feel the big toe on my right foot. It must have been, like, thoroughly stomped upon, 'cause it's all numb), stiff calves and forearms (From punching the air, yo!), not peeing for over sixty hours (Severe dehydration, yo!), had become a sacrifice to the rock gods I so readily worship. Y'know, it only hurts when you stop dancing. So under no circumstances do you stop moving. As the most demanding of rock goddesses, Karen O, commanded of the hundred thousand at her feet on Saturday night, "Off, off, off with your head! Dance, dance, dance till you're dead!" This was Lollapalooza '09.


FRIDAY

Bon Iver:
It was raining and I'm grateful. Of any show that was seen the whole weekend, I sure am glad that it was Bon Iver who played in the rain. No one else can pull off rainy-romance like that. I don't know much Bon Iver, truth be told, just what I've heard whilst in the company of Michael- blogmate and LollapaLover (How's that for an epithet!) and my mom. It's strange how the weather worked, I was sincerely freezing after this set with goosebumps and chattering teeth (Legitimately, like Scooby-Doo chattering teeth) and everything.

Crystal Castles:
Oh, Alice Glass, what can I say about you that hasn't been said, you crazy crazy bitch? I've wanted to see Crystal Castles live since I discovered them, hand delivered to me personally by BBCA via Skins (Poor Sid). Before the show we were crept upon by some chubby, middle-aged, stoned guy. He had Slayer concert anecdotes a plenty, and he defended umbrellas which were obviously inexcusable at lollapalooza (A lovely chant of "Deal with the rain, Douchebag!" could be heard throughout the day). We were pretty far back so I didn't exactly see it, but Alice allegedly had her microphone stolen by some randy in the audience, and in response she allegedly punched the randy in the face. She's terrifying, a complete force of nature. She also gave her bottle of vodka to some underaged kids. If you've heard Crystal Castles then you know how difficult it is to sing along, but i sure fucking tried my hardest. Soon as the initial blips and beeps of Air War (I really have no idea if this was the first song they played, but does it really matter?) there was an all consuming rush forward toward the stage. I was nolonger cold, I forgot about the rain. The rain, I believe, actually stopped in the middle of their set. Chased away by Alice's sheer will force. Crazy, crazy bitch.

of Montreal:
I feel like waiting for this show at the gate of the VitaminWater stage was as much a part of the of Montreal experience as the actual show. We stayed at the stage after Crystal Castles, though it was an hour until of Montreal's set, to procure dece spots. 'Cause everyone knows that of Montreal is crazy as fuck. I saw them my freshman year, all capes and gold sparkles and swords and pure fucking glamour. All around us kids were lighting up, cigars, cigarettes, blunts, pipes, bongs. We were entirely consumed by marijuana; thoroughly disgusting. I was offered so many hits, and as I declined I could see it in their eyes, "What a fucking square". My offering that I was no square, simply straight edge did nothing to help my case. I am so '90s. Also quite notably there was a realllllllly drunk girl right in front of me. She pulled down her pants and underwear, and pissed on the ground. Like, one foot in front of me. She then stole her friend's poncho and placed it over her puddle and stood on it. I saw that same girl argue with some kids who were completely impressed by face-paint (My No Deachunter shirt is permanently stained pink because of that damn face-paint) about techno bands. I also saw that same girl crowd surf with her jeans and underwear both down around her mid-thigh. Then of Montreal played. I don't even know how to describe that business. Crazy as shit. There were roughly ten hired interpretive dancers? Anyhow, they crowd surfed on a giant blow up boat. And giant blow up dolphin. Also KEVIN BARNES DEFFF GAVE HIS GUITAR AWAY TO SOME KID IN THE AUDIENCE. Wow. That was one of my favorite shows of the whole weekend.

Crookers/Kid Cudi:
I paired these two up because I am impatient. Also we didn't see all of Crookers, who is a great Dj/who creates heart-attack music (Not my witty observation, the phrase "heart-attack music" belongs to Michael). Also, how come no one told me that Kid Cudi is so cute? He's tiny and pocket sized in well-fitted jeans and a tight black teeshirt and he hearts weed and chi-town. He's also a fucking fantastic rapper. His, like, seventeen minute Day n' Nite was really fantastic and sing-along inducing. He also rapped some Kanye to pay homage to Chicago, which was sweet. What a sweetheart.

SATURDAY

Los Campesinos!:
OHMYGOD. I feel like to fully understand the religious experience that was LC! lolla '09, you need a little bit of background information. I attended lollapalooza '07, and as I walked away from Amy Winehouse, I passed a stage full of exuberance, beauty, punk-rock fury, seven young Brits, and a glockenspiel. I clearly had no choice but to stop and watch the rest of their set. On the official Lolla program I circled the words "Los Campesinos!", and then promptly and tragically forgot them. The next summer, whilst going through a bunch of my old shit, I discovered this program, and wondered why I had circled that randy band. I bought their album "Hold On Now, Youngsters..." from itunes and put it on my pod. Those of you familiar with where I live will know what Hog Wild Days is. If you don't know what this is, it's an annual carnival held at a park very near my house and it is a very trashy affair on whose last night (of three) there is a celebratory fire works display. So, I put LC! on my pod, and went to my favorite swing at this park, on the last night of Hog Wild Days. I listened to this album, and I watched the fire works, and at the moment that the penultimate track (Sweet Dreams, Sweet Cheeks) began I knew that I could never love another band more than I love this one. I am truly a hopeless romantic, and unrequited is the only type of love I know how to give. They played in the morning, at lolla '09, and we got to the park later than I think we ought to have. Gareth & Co. are really really fabulous live (I saw them in Madison earlier this year and my shirt got near ripped off in the mosh pit! "In Madison, we mosh" No fucking kidding), but this is unsurprising considering their music is so entirely energetic. I knew every word to every song they played, I impressed myself and most likely annoyed those around me. It was the hottest of all the days but I blocked it out, instead focusing on moving my arms and legs and head and mouth and tongue and really it is ridiculous how well I know their songs, every chord, every note, every riff, I was ready for. I sweat more in that hour than I have in my entire life, and I lost vision for about ten seconds, fell backward. Maybe a mini black out? Anyhow, thank God Michael was there to catch me. There was a point where I knew that I could either sprint and get some water or pass out, and I figured the latter option would make for a better story. I cried whilst walking from this set, because they were so good, and made me so happy. They did a signing that day, and I kissed Gareth Campesinos.

Santigold:
Wow the LC! revvvvv really emotionally drained me. I have got to make this light-hearted-er. SO. Is there a more radiant woman on this earth than Santi White? Probably not. She's just sweet. She came on roughly ten minutes late, but promptly explained that she had been arguing with security, who refused to allow her to invite audience members on stage for to her expected Creator dance off. She has one of those every show. I think. Atleast it was included when I saw her in Des Moines earlier this spring. Whatever the case may be, that is the best excuse ever given by an artist as to why their set was late getting started. Can we take a moment to respect Santi's dancer/singer girls? Who the fuck are these girls? Why are their dance moves so sporadic and utterly awesome? They never smile BECAUSE THEY ARE FUCKING QUEEN BEES IN A WORLD OF DRONES. Seriously, those two women are, like, the best female specimens of the human race. They should represent planet Earth at intergalactic functions. Okay, well, anyhow, Santigold worked it out as I knew she would. We made some friends whilst waiting for her set. I call them Crystal-Castles-Teeshirt-Boyfriend and Crystal-Castles-Teeshirt-Boyfriend's-Shirtless-Friend. I am way sure that I could have gotten Crystal-Castles-Teeshirt-Boyfriend's number had Michael not entirely resembled my boyfriend. Way to cock-block (Just Kidding, Ohmygod, I Love You). Also we met up with some school friends (By "school friends", I mean him) who were unfamiliar with Santi's body of work, so that was cool. It's always really interesting to bare witness to someone's first exposure to a band and/or artist.

Tv On the Radio:
Yeah, okay, I get that they're good. And they were fun to watch live, but I just can't help it if they don't really spark my twig, if you catch my drift. I didn't really know their music well enough to really know what was going on. Also my heart was going a million miles per minute because of who was next.......................

Yeah Yeah Yeahs:
I was really ambitious in coming up with what I wanted to say about the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, but now it just feels like too much. Maybe there is a strictly YYYs themed post in the future, but for now all there is was Saturday night and watching a shittily disguised Nick Zinner (who is the most attractive man to ever live) mess with some pedals, guitar strap around his neck, before the set began. There is no band more glamorous or raw or beautiful or punk rock or poetic than the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. I saw them before at lolla '07 but I knew almost none of their music, probably only the singles and a few random Show Your Bones strays. But this was different, because since then I'd fallen in love. Since then I'd learned words and acquired a new favorite song. Karen O. That's all I can say, really, is Karen O. What a sexy masterwork of humanity. She sang with everything she had and her charisma acted as a drug in my system, altering time. Making me love her more than I thought possible. Maps was so emotional. This lollapalooza was one of the most emotional experiences of my life. Frat boys all around us were crying during Maps, and beautiful Karen was so overwhelmed by the vastness and support and adoration that every fan in the audience displayed for her and her music by singing along, that she forgot the words. After the song was restarted, and finished, the last line being "I love you", she said to us "I do". And I fucking believe her, I love her afterall. Karen O, I love you.