In three days I was able to see all or part of 15 shows. That's the beauty of Lollapalooza. The shame of it is that there were about 50 other shows that I wasn't able to see, but would've liked to. This was my first Lollapalooza, and I must say that the experience wasn't always comfortable (it was 90-95 degrees and pretty humid all three days), but still there were 75,000 people drawn to Grant Park in Chicago each day. There was something more at Grant Park this past weekend than could be found by downloading some songs on iTunes, or by watching a few videos of the bands performing. Music is sound, but somehow this weekend -- even in 90+ degree heat -- it was also an experience...and a powerful one at that. While experiencing all this I had some thoughts/questions that seemed of interest for rednoW readers...
A sort of homecoming... Watching Lupe Fiasco perform was quite an experience. Lupe's from Chicago and was obviously excited to be back performing in his hometown. At one point, I marveled at the irony of so many middle/middle-upper class kids who were now paying a lot of money to watch Lupe perform. In fact I marveled out loud to a girl next to me who asked me what I was writing (yes, I was taking notes). I wondered if Lupe harbored any bitterness or resentment as he performed for so many people -- myself included -- who paid a lot of money to see him perform. When he was growing up in this same town, one ticket would've been close to covering his family's rent for the month. If it was strange to be performing for so many people (again, myself included) who benefited from a system that was stacked against Lupe, he didn't show it. It was a hard question to ask...I am one of the people who benefits from the systems under which our society operates. It was apparently a hard question for the girl who was my neighbor as well. She responded that we all have our systems whether its poverty or being "under our parents' thumb." I don't think it is that simple, though I think she's right that there is some victim in all of us. We'd be remiss not to admit that there's a little villain in us as well. Systems have a way of doing that to us.
Rage at Rage... If you're wondering about the claim that we're all a little villain and a little victim you weren't at the Rage Against the Machine show. There was a lot energy at the show, but also some anger. Anger from people who, looking from the outside, might not seem to have reason to be angry. Although Zack De La Rocha was able to clearly articulate why he was angry, most of the crowd just seemed to be angry because they couldn't express why they felt angry. The show had to be stopped three times to move people back and reprimand the crowd for being overly aggressive. De La Rocha made it clear that we are supposed to take care of each other at Rage shows and that we're not the enemy. But without any other way to articulate pain and anger people got hurt at the Rage show.
Creation... of a party! The "band" is called Girl Talk... but really it's just Gregg Gillis (an ex-biomedical engineer)...and his laptop. That's it. In contrast to some of the other bands at Lollapalooza (Iron & Wine... Kanye... I'm looking in your direction) the stage at the Girl Talk show was almost empty. That is until Gillis, wearing aviator sunglasses and a headband, brought about 50 people on stage. They danced around Gillis and the table on which his laptop sat. So many people came to see Girl Talk that the area in front of the stage was overflowing. And there was dancing... lots and lots of dancing. It was pure energy and enjoyment complete with antics (a man dressed as a cop shooting off toilet paper rolls with a leaf blower and Gillis crowd surfing in an inflatable raft).
But Gillis didn't write any lyrics or music. He just "mashes" already popular songs together to create something new. There's been a lot of debate about what Gillis is doing. After seeing his show, however, it's hard to argue that he what he's doing isn't new. Instead of a concert Gillis was truly creating an experience where the focus was not on him -- or even on the music -- but on the whole of the experience.
Transcendence... Often music has made it seem that my life is larger than just the material. The Radiohead show was one of those times. There's no way to articulate the experience, but there was something about 75,000 on the shore of Lake Michigan listening to such sincerity put to beautiful melodies. Everyone together singing "everyone is so near, everyone has got the fear, it's holding on" as though we really were all here together. There was pain and confusion- "I do not understand what it is I've done wrong"- but at the end I walked away holding onto the sentiment of the chorus from All I Need. "You are all I need. You are all I need. I'm in the middle of your picture. Lying in the reeds." Something was lying in the reeds that night, something big and something beautiful.







ied with the vinyl record?
Vinyl is ...














