Leigh and I flew down way early on Saturday morning, through Chicago, arriving in Nashville by 9am. We had our rental car but a half hour later. 60 miles later, due south on I-24 and we were in Bonnaroo country, strategizing how to connect with Joe from the Re:vovle Apparel Project.
Joe met us outside the festival grounds, we parked the rental rig, grabbed our shit and were inside five minutes later. Joe hornswaggled the two of us in with complimentary bracelets and artist area passes to get us back to the free drinks and gifting booths and stuff.
Many, many thanks go out to Joe for taking such great care of us, amidst such a chaotic environment. So good.
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Good things about our Bonnaroo Weekend:
01. Being with Leigh in a wild land.
02. Shooting the shit with Lips drummer Stephen Drozd and George Salisbury (Lips graphic designer) about all sorts of shit, drunk on festival beer in the swamp-ass hot sun.
03. Winking at a tiny little Frodo Baggins, Lips fan, middle earth saver earth prescence known as Elijah Wood.
04. Festival grub: Cuban, greek and this Italian/American stuff called, “Pizza.”
05. The Hold Steady’s blazing set. Anthems for all of us. Pure fun and joy and greatness.
06. A couple Spoon songs.
07. The Flaming Lips at midnight. Enough said. Boom.
08. Getting a quick photo holding onto Wayne. Tradition, at this point. The man always has time for his fans. Always has a spare moment to pump a fist or give a thumbs up for a drunk dipshit like myself. Special thanks to Leigh for being on the ball enough to snap the shot.
09. Meeting the fascinating Henry Owings backstage at the Police show. Been a fan of Chunlet and H2O for some time, and, folks, contrary to popular belief, the guy is super nice and accommodating and well, plans are being made to go to Atlanta for some BBQ and Whirlyball. Thanks, man.
10. Seven songs with Wilco. Fucking greatness. Pay attention, folks.
11. Feist. Ooh-la-la.
12. That air-conditioned jazz tent thing. Saved our lives.
13. A couple Decemberist songs about whales and the ocean. We got some news for ya, folks: The Decemberists live “inland” in a small, river town called, “Portland.” We were a mile away and it still sounded pretty good.
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Bad things about Bonnaroo:
01. The death ray heat. About died.
02. Hippies = Some frat fuck who into “Bob Weir’s Rat Dog.”
03. Dust.
04. Widespread Panic.
05. Long lines.
06. Anything tie-dye.
07. Beer buzz meltdowns.
08. The heat. (See #01)
09. Tons of security.
10. The massiveness of it all.
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Oh, yeah we’re stranded in a bunch of airports in places like, Charlotte, NC and Chicago, IL. Rats. We’re holding up, though.
