Last year I bullet pointed my experience. Coherency will exist this year by compartmentalizing the event by days because I have no idea how to explain the glorious and the downtrodden moments of Coachella 2010.
FRIDAY. We arrived the night before and I crammed into a room with four boys, three beds. As the sole female and straight person in the room, I had no snuggle-boo to call my own. After spending the morning in the pool, we headed for the festival and joined the car clusterfuck. It took 6 hours to get from Palm Springs to the festival grounds. Four of those hours were dedicated to traveling two miles. In junior high, it would have taken me under 20 minutes to run that. In a car, you would assume it would take 2 minutes. NO. Four bloody hours later, we parked in the further lot and made a mad dash to LCD Sound System. If I had missed LCD, it would been Franz Ferdinand 2010 all over again with me in tears and Carlos attempting to console me with cigarettes and beer. James Murphy was drunk on champagne but elated to open for Jay Z that his energy was infectious. Vampire Weekend performed as expected: excellent. Jay Z commanded the stage but I got sleepy/annoyed at him for asking "What's up, Coachella?" or "Throw ya diamonds in the air." every few minutes so I staggered towards Fever Ray.
Fever Ray scares me. It was not her outfit. Or her weird head piece. But her voice. Karin Dreijer Andersson is a poor man's Bjork to me. Her voices spikes and distorts in awkward juts that I called it quits after 30 seconds.
Leaving the festival was an adventure of its own. Sadly not a fun one. Cell phones were basically large hand held clocks because you couldn't text or call with them. Once I was miles away from the festival, my phone bleeped like an fire alarm with messages. So that didn't help when I was lost and separated from my friends who couldn't remember where we were park due to lack of signs. I wandered for an hour before finding my car. An hour later, my friends found my car. So we didn't leave till 3 am, which was a technical blessing as there was no exiting traffic. Then again, I was lost in the desert in minimal clothing with biting winds and scared as all fuck that if I didn't find my car in time, they would tow it. Coachella, woo-hoo??? No, more like "Go sit in the corner, Coachella, you've been a naughty, naughty child."
SATURDAY. I wandered from stage to tent by myself that day. Portugal. The Man has never failed to impress me with their live show. I skipped out on Girls and Beach House for reasons that still elude me. White Rabbits is part of a three way tie this year for "Favorite New Band I Stumble Across." (The Gossip and Little Boots round out the other bands. Beth Ditto, I will never doubt your singing prowess again because that lady had a big voice to match her girth and also possessed the cutest personality. Little Boots had a grand light show and funtastic electropop dance music.) Bounced over to Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros, who reminded me of the Polyphonic Spree sans the cult motif. Pinballed back to the main stage for Tokyo Police Club and spent a good portion of their set questioning their late afternoon main stage slot and the lead singer's age. I would have pegged them to be in the Mojave tent and him to be 17. I would also have pegged Coheed & Cambria to have a midday dead slot. But alas, they played the coveted sunset slot. The XX were sparse and beautiful. Hot Chip made nerd dance music popular. They wasted no time in playing crowd favorites like "Over and Over" and "Hold On". I'm huge fan of bands extending song times by building up the bridges of their songs because it feels like you're riding on a giant musical wave, floating up and up and up that you no longer wonder when you'll hit the ground. The descent will happen and it will hit you without warning. So ride it. As Modest Mouse would say, "Float on."
So. My friends visited the Heineken dome for beers and there was a "silent" disco occurring as well. The gimmick was you danced with wireless headphones on. Without a set of headphones on, you just see people shuffling about awkwardly, clapping their hands at what seemed like random moments, and sudden outbursts of lyrics. I took my headphones off during "Like A Virgin" and it sounded like a cheerleading camp with people clapping in time and singing a cappella. Visiting that dance party meant skipping out on MGMT, which I had no problems with at all. It also meant, I missed half of Muse. Again, not a problem.
For Muse was Muse, anthem rock and whatnot. I did regret not skipping them earlier to see Diplo. I have no excuse for my absence during Major Lazer's set, just shame. So we move on. Flying Lotus bored me. The Dead Weathers were shown in black and white on the large screen for reason I won't label as art. Just weird. Die Antwoord was my band of the night. I don't normally listen to hyper-sexual, misogynistic lyrics but I let that slide for Die Antwoord.
Die Antwoord are a hip hop/rap group and could be considered the South African equivalent to Slim Shady. They became an internet viral phenomenon and I will never be able to erase the image of Ninja's testicles literally ping ponging around in slow motion under Dark Side of the Moon boxers. To apologize for that acid on my eyes, they wrote ridiculously catchy hooks. Apology accepted, Die Antwoord! They played for only 20 minutes but I would go back in time and punch Abraham Lincoln in the beard to see them again. I ended the night waiting for Devo to play "Whip It." I never found out if they did because my poor feet were tired so I walked past the main stage where glitter rained on the crowd during Tiesto's crazy light show and DJ set and to the meeting spot. Another two clusterfucked hours in my friend's car and we made it home.
SUNDAY. Sunday, bloody Sunday. I can summarize that entire day in one word: Gorillaz.
Shall I repeat? GORILLAZ.
They were the end all, be all set for this Coachella experience.
Is it April 2011 yet? Because I am ready for another round of this vagabond life.
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