lollapalooza - chicago - 05

My sister moved to chicago from washington DC last august, and promptly moved into a large two bedroom apartment (paying rent so low it's a crime) and a high-paying manager's job at a local non-profit. She can credit both of these scores to ME.

a) I hooked her up with the apartment when my friend Chris and his wife moved to L.A.

b) I kept dating this girl I couldn't stand (I could indirectly make fun of her to her face and she had no idea what I was talking about. Or where she was. Or what was going on... I question if she's still learning her colors and shapes) because she's a headhunter and was working double time to secure my sister a job at a solid firm, and a place within my cold, hardened heart.

oh yeah,

c) my dad and I (sorry, I must mention, my parents drove a rented truck full of all of her shit from DC to Chicago over night, while she rocked hard to bar time and caught a flight the next morning) moved all of her furniture and boxes into her new place before she even got there after landing at O'Hare.

So, anyways, she has been slowly repaying the favor. Earlier in the year it was announced that Lollapalooza was returning and that it would make ONE weekend appearance in the country... at Grant Park in Chicago. No tour, rather one location/one weekend. The initial deal was paying $35 for a weekend pass (both dates) without seeing any of the line-up.

My take on it was one of total indifference... my sister's was "it's going to be in Chicago? it's only 35 bucks? fuck it!" and she picked up a block of tix. good move, sis.

--

So anyways, I attended Lollapalooza '92 and Lollapalooza '93 in Chicago. It was a time and a place for me at that age, but it also seems that it truly was a fertile period for music as well... the comebacks on this festival line up reads like early 90's revival: pixies, weezer, primus, dinosaur jr., digable planets, liz phair, DJ muggs (cypress hill).

what seemed revolutionary then (lineups consisting of rock, metal, hip hop and brit rock acts) is standard now. I thought that the set up for this (6 stages, spread out) achieved the mixed bag concept better than the earlier version. why? because you were free to roam around and check out whatever act you wanted at this year's festival, whereas before you were stuck in the same spot on the grassy hill, which made for a long, tiring day in the sun.

my recap:

Saturday
I rode the pista to my sister's place to pick up my ticket. It was 90 degrees, overcast and muggy. I chatted with her hungover friends from New York and DC, then biked down to the venue to meet up with my pal Pat who was already there.

I walked through the gate and heard Perry Farrell performing the song "pets" on the kids stage for about 80 people. I walked over and couldn't believe the luck: Perry was performing this little suprise concert in front of a pool of about 30 kids and 50 parents who were all around my age. After "pets" Perry sang some b-side throw away song about dolphins called "aqua".

A girl about my age with a baby in her arms turned to me and said "this is awesome." I smiled and said "I agree", then I pointed at the group of children that Perry was singing to like the motherfucker was Barney, and said, "that guy used to be a heroin addict."

Perry sang another song and then thanked everyone for coming. It was fucking cool.

I met up with Pat and we caught ...And You Will Know Us By The Trail of Dead who put on a loud, crushing early afternoon hard rock show. Points for their front man ripping on sponsor Budweiser and that shit brew they distribute worldwide, but points taken away for busting up the drum kit at the end of the show. The Who trashes their instruments (it's been done), and... you're... who?

Next we met up with my sister and her crew and caught a nice hard fucking performance by the Kaiser Chiefs, an outfit from the UK.

Pat and I each like Cypress Hill, so we walked across the street to the planet stage to catch DJ Muggs' set. I wasn't carrying, so this was a logical stop to find some smoke. It wasn't difficult -- it was everywhere.

There was a short girl with a fine body and small tube top with jeans dancing in front of us, displaying her stripper moves. I guessed that she was 33 and had been fucking since around the age of 12 (which would give her over 20 years of experience -- an expert), Pat guessed that she was a 33 year old stripper in Indiana with two kids and had received "the bad touch" my an older male family member before finishing 4th grade.

Next to her was a pair of couples: your typical chicago chach guys and their dates. I could tell that one couple had been dating for a long time (the girl had that drunk at wrigley field girl beer gut/fat ass), and that the other couple was new.

I actually felt kind of bad for the guy dating the new girl, because although she was a total angel that any man (even a fag) would break any and all laws of decency to fuck, she was a total pain in the ass. she didn't even bother to look like she was having fun, and her date was doing the best he could to keep her happy. she kept wandering off to make a cell phone call, or to sit on the grass by herself. The other girl and her boyfriend looked at their friend working hard to please the angel brat, with the kind of look that can only say "your new girlfriend sucks shit."

A little hi, we walked back to the main area and towards the Billy Idol show. I was discussing my disdain for Billy Idol's approach to rock with Pat...

Billy Idol had like three wardrobe changes, and rock music is not about wardrobe changes -- wardrobe changes are for Cher...

Rock music is about covering your t-shirt with sweat and/or blood, and then tearing it off and throwing it into the audience, killing a can of beer and then stage diving into the audience... being body passed to the soundboard and then back again, and then being fished out by security and tossed back on stage... all within a three minute guitar solo.

THAT is "rock music", "Billy Idol" is a 50 year old nostalgia act.

While "punk rock" act Billy Idol crooned "Eyes Without a Face", an early 30's girl behind me sheepishly smiled at me and waved me over. She was really, really drunk on beers (it was around five in the afternoon), and said "you are the cutest thing that I've seen all day." I could tell that it was a balls thing for her to say to someone (even loaded), so I spent some time talking to to her. She was nice. I gave her a cigarette and told her that Pat and I were going to go catch the Black Keys, then we disappeared into a crowd of 30,000.

Pat and I met up with his cousin Mike just as the Black Keys began their set. The two piece was really good, and I was marveling at the guitar work when I noticed a few girls moving our way. I caught a glance from the hottest of the three and she approached me. She was fucking fine, she looked like a 23 year old Christy Turlington with her fine bred chiseled face and tall slender kick ass body. She was dressed the part too, with a pair of high cut shorts and sleeveless shirt. She had to carry her small purse.

She told me that she was from Lake Forest (this terrible enclave of horrible, obnoxious, super-wealthy white people who breed the worst trustafarian scum imaginable... they also always name drop "Lake Forest" when given the chance to speak during any conversation... they rival New Yorkers, in this sense). She told me that her name was Jess, and introduced me to her friends. They were typical spoiled, rich brats. I watched my mouth.

I could tell that this was happening and that Jess was super fucking hot... and young, she graduated from college in '03. she told me that she worked in human resources, but hated it. I asked her if she talked to nervous people everyday and she said yes. I bet she speaks to nervous men constantly. she said that she and her friends were going to see the pixies, and I told her that we were going to see the pixies too. she told me and her friends that she had to use the bathroom, and left me, my friends and hers.

Pat and Mike wanted to go grab a spot before the Pixies took the stage. Jess was still gone. I weighed my options:

a) let those two dudes take off and hang around with Jess' friends who I didn't know and hadn't talked to... other than to question if my awful skank co-worker's father is still the mayor... waiting for the girl to come back from taking what I imagine was a monster shit in a port-o-john, and then walking to the pixies stage and not being able to find Pat and Mike

b) say goodbye to Jess' friends, and go to the pixies' show.

I opted for option (b). I figured that I'd probably see Jess somewhere in the crowd and capitalize on our introduction later. Besides, hanging around reeks of "loser".

Did I mention that I'm partially retarded? Of course we didn't see that amazing piece of ace again, there was like fuckin 33,000 people walking around. Pat wanted to know what my problem was... was I becoming half a fag? A girl who would never look him in the eye approached me, and I decided to slip away. Fine. Agreed. Stupid. Beyond that, he reasoned, she was from Lake Forest, which equals riches. I had to remind Pat that residents of Lake Forest are like the fucking British aristocracy... they're fucking useless and they only marry their own kind.

So I'm getting into "bone machine" when I notice a beautiful blonde (no engagement ring) about 15 feet away from me. She looked very familiar, and I almost immediately thought that I knew who it was...

In 1993 I had dropped out of college and was slowly losing my shit as my first relationship disintegrated in Madison, WI (read "catch"). That year I worked at the Discount Den, and this beautiful, athletic blonde came in a couple of times and smiled at me and flirted with me. I also recall going to a BBQ with some friends from work, and that blonde girl and her friends. I talked to her for a bit, but I had my girlfriend Kelly to deal with, and was probably headed off to see her anyway.

I remember thinking way back then "shit. should I scrap a 4 year relationship - that's going to shit - for something that has no guarantee?" What makes this all the weirder, in the past 12 years or so, I've actually thought of THAT blonde girl maybe three or four times... as if to ask "what would've happened...?" I've also questioned "I wonder whatever happened to that particular girl?"

Flash forward to the pixies show at Lollapalooza in Chicago, 2005. I'm not 19, I'm 31, and there's this blonde that looks a lot like the Madison girl from years ago. The blonde girl in the crowd caught me looking at her and smiled. I decided that I had to find out if it was her.

I approached her and said "excuse me, did you happen to go to UW-Madison?" I looked closely at her face, she appeared to look much younger than the girl I'd met so long ago would probably look now.

She smiled and said "yes." I asked her if she lived there in 1993, and she said that she had, that she'd graduated in 1997.

it was her.

I said, "I thought so, I've met you before. I lived in Madison and worked at the Den, and I've met you before."

She told me that her name is Jen, I told her that mine is Tim. I gave her and her friend a cigarette. We talked for a couple minutes, and she had no recollection of me. Which isn't suprising because we didn't know each other, and that we had been passing strangers 12 years ago during another life.

At first she seemed flattered, but then it was a bit awkward, and I think that she got a bit freaked out... which is obviously not what I'd prefer, but what can you do... we're dealing with a random sighting... I'm sure that I appeared to be either psychic or insane.

The pixies set ended and jen and her friend said goodbye and walked away... all we are is dust in the wind. The universe is mysterious.

Jen, if you happen read this stupid, profanity-laced blog for any reason whatsoever, please contact me here. or leave a comment. I'd like to buy you coffee and bum you some smokes... we'd figure out pretty fast if we're the same kind of people or not... I suppose that this is an example of "stranger things have happened."

Completely floored by the universe colliding, Pat and I walked over to digable planets and caught an excellent hip hop show complete with a live band, and lots of j's getting passed to me by incredibly beautiful women. Saturday was one of those unusually cosmic days of good fortune.

If Jen doesn't see this (imagine that), maybe I'll run into her again in another 10 to 20 years, or so.

Sunday
Sunday had a totally differnt vibe than Saturday. It was fucking hot with blinding direct sunlight and a 100 degree humidity to contend with. It was the kind of hot that kills shitloads of senior citizens. It was so extreme. This cut down the number of people in attendance by a bit (and also lost both Jess, the totally fucking hot Lake Forest girl, and Jen, the beautiful athletic blonde who thinks that I'm psychic).

Todd joined Pat and I for the day, opening with Los Amigos Invisibles, a fucking 100 degree party at two in the afternoon. Their guitarist is amazing... look for them.

I found that scouting for hits wasn't such a problem. All you have to do is conduct a little bit of profiling before approaching for a hit. When you want to catch a buzz at a show, and have confirmed that there's shit in your midst, consider the source...

approach
(a) anyone younger than 22. they'll immediately let you take a hit. they won't be sure if you're security, a cop, or merely a rad 31 year old.

(b) women. they'll always give up a hit to a polite boy. stick near them, girls who smoke shit are cool.

(c) any odd numbered group of boys and girls... say three guys and two girls. they're not exclusive, and their circle is easy to penetrate because there's a third wheel.

do not approach
(a) anyone who is clearly insane. if they look anything like andrew w k, and you're stupid enough to still approach them for anything, you deserve whatever happens to you.

(b) any even numbered group of boys and girls... you're dealing with two squads of boyfriend/girlfriend, which really means that you're dealing with a team... a team that has equal veto power, plus the imagined belief that they're in charge of the world together. Avoid. they suck.

We caught Satellite Party, the new Perry Farrell project. I got to say that I'm a fan of Perry Farrell, and other than Jane's Addiction, not much else that he's fronted... I thought that the last jane's addiction record was only as good as it didn't suck as bad as it easily could have.

I figured out Perry's stage moves as well: he's doing a Mick Jagger/Iggy Pop impersonation. Perry rocks.

Arcade Fire was excellent. It was fucking bloody fucking hell with the sun beating down and the dust blowing. it looked like fucking Iraq. Stage hands handed out several hundred bottles of water. it was needed.

We caught Spoon with my sister and her friends. I was so tipsy from the bud that I caught here and there, plus the whisky I'd snuck in and mixed with Sprite (it tasted like warm Sprite with whisky mixed in 100 degree weather and direct sunlight) and foamy beer suds going to my head.

I told her that I figured out who Spoon sounded like: the Counting Crows with a hint of Supertramp. Sorry, Spoon fans.

We went to check out famed Chicago DJ Derrick Carter spin some house music as the sun set. Thirty-five repetitive minutes of that took us back to the main area to see Death Cab for Cutie.

I didn't know any Death Cab, and can now say that "they write songs that your girlfriend likes." Sorry, Death Cab fans.

Widespread makes me want to rest my mouth over the business end of a shotgun, so we got the fuck out of there and biked home.

I was crashed and passed out by 10:30 p.m.