Monday, May 08, 2006

coachella, day two: the race is not always won by the swift


If day one felt like a marathon of heat, sunscreen, bands and those who love all three, day two felt like a twisted joke, some strange cross between Hell and Groundhog Day, with a little bit of Lawrence of Arabia thrown in for kicks. I didn't have the Peter O'Toole scarf rig around my head, but I should've. Just as an added bonus, Sunday packed about five more degrees of heat, which was pretty much all I needed to decide that this whole Coachella thing may not've been as good an idea as I thought.

But, many of the handful of bands I really wanted to see were, in fact, playing on Sunday. Plus I was working, which sort of took the whole, "Screw this band thing I'm grabbing an umbrella drink and sitting by the pool with my iPod" notion and set it on fire in front of me.

My first trick was to absorb the above, somewhere about 100 yards from the Sahara Tent or, Madonna Central. Yes, Miss M was due to play her much ballyhooed set at 8 pm that night, and as such was entitled to rope off about 1/8 of the festival grounds so she could run through her soundcheck without running the unpleasant risk of seeing or smelling a commoner. The Mojave Tent, the AT&T Blue Room, they were all barricaded by some surprisingly powerful yellow ribbon--oh yeah, and about 15 security guards--until 12:15. Of course, doors opened at 8, and the first bands were going to kick off 15 minute before then, but of what concern are these things to a pop idol?

Crazy thing was, people were into it. People gathered behind that rope and when it was lifted ran like holy hell to the Sahara Tent--and I'm pretty sure it wasn't to get a good spot for the by-then delayed and somewhat anonymous Kristina Sky or OneRepublic. No, I'm pretty sure these people wanted them some Madge-lovin', and they were going to run across the surface of the sun to get it.

In the words of later performer Gnarls Barkley--"Crazy."

More to come, including Sleater-Kinney, Mogwai, and a brief dispatch from the fustercluck of humanity that was the MadonnaTent.

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