Voodoo Festival 2012
Memoirs of my first solo adventure, age 22. I drove to New Orleans for Voodoo Festival! The trip down was pleasant--Stephen had downloaded a bunch of podcasts onto my phone so that I could learn things while I drove. After navigating the perilously potholed streets of New Orleans, I parked outside of Murk's house on Carondelet and grabbed the first streetcar that passed by. Half of the lines were under construction, so I had to switch over between buses a few times. I talked with probably about 30 strangers in the first day of being there. People from New York, Ethiopia, New Orleans, Alabama, San Francisco. Random people that just felt like telling me about their lives, or having a conversation to pass the time. That's one benefit to being alone: If you're with a friend, you mostly only talk to that friend. If you're by yourself, you talk to whoever is around also not talking to anyone, more or less. I probably talked with well over a hundred strangers on this trip and most of the time we never even exchanged names. I saw a lot of people in costume on the way: afros and full-body suits, some guys with ton of kandy and dinosaur hat/masks, a ton of zombies.
I got through the lines at the check-in and got to the festival just in time for Die Antwoord. Talk about weird! Ninja had his shirt off and kept doing dance moves that made his boobs jiggle, and the girl was just straaaange. They started off in orange jumpsuits and ended up taking off clothes and putting on new things with hoods repeatedly. The girl kept giving off this weird yelp in her high pitched voice... Definitely hamming it up. It was more than entertaining though, and I enjoyed watching the two of them look strange, act gangster, and have odd accents.
The Avett Brothers did not impress me. I wanted to like them, and I appreciated the instrumentality, but for whatever reason I wasn't enjoying the show. A stranger named Garrett noticed this and proceeded to introduce me to about 7 of his friends. I walked over to Say Anything with him and his friends, and after being introduced to yet more people, I kind of drifted off to the side to make room for dancing. Say Anything put on a great show! The music itself is stuff that I would've liked much more if I were still a teenager, but for being an old-guy teen in girl pants whining about his girlfriend, Max Bemis puts on a pretty good show. I danced my ass off and thrashed around a bit, unlike most of the other people there, who were standing around singing the lyrics and looking emo teenager-y. I enjoyed the high energy and all around had a good time. It was the closest thing to a semi-sort-of punk show I was going to get, and I made the best of it. What really set off the excitement was when the background decorations came crashing down during one of their faster songs... THAT was hilarious!
I caught a minute of Kaskade and listened to a bit of Neil Young on my way out, but I was ready to hit the buses again. Murk was waiting for me to get back to the house so that we could go to a costume contest at the Dragon's Den. He dressed as a bunny (kind of) with a black button down, black pants, a white tie, and a ridiculously large pair of fluffy bunny ears in hat form. I didn't bring a costume, so I just put on my zombie shirt and covered my arms in cat stamps. We stopped to pick up Beautiful Michael on the way, and man was he a sight! Face painted black, a toole scarf pulled over his face and stuffed with large pom-poms, a leather harness thing, unbuttoned jean shorts, and a pair of stocking stuffed with pom-poms, which made his legs look like they were covered in giant boils. Not to mention all of the ridiculous amounts of glitter. We think he was maybe dressed up as a tumor?
The Dragon's Den was pretty weird. I mean, what can you expect on Halloween weekend? The place itself was obviously used and abused, and the people inside were an absolute modge-podge of individuals. Most of the costumes were excellent, including a great legitimate looking Devil, a super-tall beautiful Marilyn Manson-looking cross dresser, and Xenon, the famous guy, and a fan from Xenon of the 21st Century. Those three basically took over the stage at one point and put on a ridiculous show waaaay too sexy for Xenon. Mafo showed up along with more friends and we had an awkward and drinkey time, alternately dancing and standing and chatting. Beautiful Michael happened to bring additional jars of glitter with him and drenched all of us in it. Seriously, I shook out my hair in Murk's tub later and practically covered the entire bottom of it. Murk got plenty in his eyes. We eventually left, went outside, realized it was cold, ran down to some random 24-hour kitchen mini mart to get some food (country fried steak and french fry poboys), and then found our way back to the car. I crashed on Murk and Mafo's super comfortable couch and slept like a baby.
I woke up around noon on Saturday. Finished my country fried steak for breakfast while watching Murk draw pictures. The streetcar/bus ride down to the festival wasn't as bad as the day before, seeing as I now knew exactly what I had to do. There was a nice chill in the air, which was a nice change from Saturday. I got to wear my hoodie and be a marsupial for the first time this season! It was interesting watching the difference between the festival goers and the regular New Orleans people on the bus. Some people knew the bus drivers very well, and would greet them warmly. Others seemed busy, bitter, or tired, but almost everyone was nice. I saw some people waiting for a streetcar that would never come, and did my good deed for the day by getting their attention and signalling them to catch a bus. I got to the festival, water in one hand, a tiny bottle of Jack Daniels in the other. CVS pharmacy apparently carries Jack Daniels, who knew.
Either way, my first stop was Feufollet, seeing as I always enjoy their shows and there was no one else I wanted to see. The music was excellent, of course, and the crowd wasn't overstuffed, so I got to be as close as I wanted. Smaller shows and crowds often make for a better experience, that's one reason I enjoyed Say Anything as much as I did. After a little Jack and enough lounging around Feufollet watching no one Cajun dance, I texted ol' Matt Zaunbrecher and met up with him and Emily out on the field in front of the main stage. I had a spare blanket and laid it out next to theirs. Emily drank to much and was basically passed out, so Matt and I went and grabbed us all some food, then sat and watch The Revivalists and Awolnation. I managed to find my traditional spinach and crawfish breadbowl, and all was right with the world.
I don't know much of anything about The Revivalists, but I really enjoyed their music, and they made for a great listen while relaxing on a blanket in the sun with a couple of friends. At one point a large group of Looney Toons characters made camp next to us, and they made a great show of dancing and acting their parts. There were literally about 10 of them all dressed up, including a Wile E. Coyote, complete with a helpless wooden sign and some Acme dynamite. A lot of the masks were huge papier-mache things, and the wearers often had extra long straws in their beers for easy access. Awolnation was better live than they are recorded, but I still really only listened so that I could catch Sail. The lead singer looks like a Kurt Cobain knock-off and screams unnecessarily. Like I said, their not-hit stuff sounds better live than it does recorded, but I wish more of their stuff sounded alien-esque like sail does, instead of actually screamy. More electronics!
We actually got up and got in the crowd to catch the Silversun Pickups though. Emily had sobered up a bit by that time and was ready to go places, and I was ready to get involved in some dancing. I was UBER surprised to see that the lead singer was a guy! In all the years I've known about them I'd always thought that the lead singer was a chick. He has a really nice voice! Their chick bassist was totally where it was at though, and I couldn't stop watching the drummer for the life of me. The bassist had on a red dress with pockets over the boobs that I want SO BAD, and I don't usually want dresses. I also really want to learn to play the drums well enough to participate in a band sometime. I listened and danced and screamed and enjoyed, especially when Panic Switch and Lazy Eye came on. Matt and Emily left to go get good spots for Justice, but I wanted to see Metallica.
Metallica. Rocked. So. HARD. I can see why, even after so many years, those guys still have such a huge fanbase. Their show was RIDICULOUS! James Hetfield had this insane look like he was straight out of the upper echelons of Hell, and he had a voice and a laugh to match. And talk about some insanely white teeth, with his white goatee that made his whole face look more... Attractively demonic, I guess. They just about blew my brains out with their rocking. Once again, I was thrashing around and dancing it out, and I was really surprised that no one started moshing, or that not more people were getting as pumped. It's fucking Metallica people! I was next to some nerdy strangers I'd just met that grew up on Metallica, so they were really excited too. I went to go catch a few minutes of Justice, and ended up coming in at just the right time: they just started their remix of D.A.N.C.E., and I jammed for the whole 10-15 minute session. Then I heard what I thought were gunshots. I look over towards the Metallica stage, and they're shooting off fucking FIREWORKS and FLAMETHROWERS. Needless to say, I was back over there in a flash and was not disappointed. They played pretty much all of their most well-known songs, both old and newer, with more fucking fireworks and more fucking flames shooting off at crescendos and shit. It was SO FUCKING AWESOME. They got really fast and really heavy, and my heart felt full and wild being exposed to so much just hardcore heavy rock for a while. Totally worth losing the hearing. And of course, sarcastic assholes they're going to be: They took Green Day's place in the lineup, so as one of their last songs they cover the first part of American Idiot. Fucking Metallica playing American Idiot! xD
The bus ride home was pretty uneventful because I was tired. Luckily I'd managed to get on three layers by that time (put on a spare tee shirt during Awolnation), because waiting for the St. Charles bus outside was COLD. I think bringing a Gatorade bottle for water during the trip was probably the smartest thing I could've done, I kept plenty hydrated no matter where I went. Once I got abck to The Fofo, Murk was ready to go to a house party. We get there and were the only people there at the time besides the house's owner and the birthday girl (and the brother asleep on the couch), but we all got a chance to make friends and dance like ladies. Eventually more people showed up, but me, Brooke, and Rachel were just having a blast dancing to random songs. I put on Come On Eileen to get the party started (that's such a great song.)
After drinks and red velvet cookies and getting the people that showed up to dance a little bit, we went to another house party that was a lot bigger and... New Orleans. The house was huge and very obviously old. Ancient chandeliers, almost no furniture except for antique couches, chairs, and tables, paintings on the walls, sparse bedroom, and a balcony that could be closed up, so was sort of an indoor/outdoor affair. 17 stairs on the staircase. I got everyone upstairs to sing What's Up by 4 Non Blondes, checked out the ccreepy abandoned house and pool in the backyard, and found a comfy spot downstairs on one of the old chairs. That's when things got weird... Some guy in a 70's trippy getup was singing a full acoustic set, two Frida Kahlos were walking about, a cracked out clown handed me a picture of a horse and creeped away, someone dressed up the mic stand as Arnold Schwartzenegger, Charlie Chaplin walked in and didn't break character once the entire time he was there, people started surfing across the floor on wet trashcan lids, eventually a guy in a bathrobe and a straw fedora basically passed out on the floor but continued to keep the 70's guy's beat by banging one of the trash can lids on the ground. I think it was the most New Orleans thing that has ever happened to me.
Left, dropped off ladies, dodged many potholes, got Rally's (apparently East for Checkers) by serenading the drive thru lady with Christmas carols, went to sleep on the couch cuddled underneath a Pokemon blanket.
Sunday, I woke up late because I stayed out until 4 in the morning the night before. Drove my car down to Magazine street (at Murk and Brooke's suggestions) to look for some clothes for my costume. The thrift shops down that street are amazing! I saw so many vintage-y stylish things that I wanted to keep. If there is ever a place to go clothes shopping for me, it is New Orleans. Some of the places were combination thrift shops and costume shops, and I accidentally walked into a couple that were strictly fancy costume. Some of the things for sale were extravagant, from sequined dresses to stacks of top hats to clothes racks sorted by decade (from 20's to 90's). I found a good pair of cowboy boots and a brown jacket at Buffalo Exchange, which is pretty much THE place to go for not ridiculously priced used clothes.
From there, I drove to the festival and managed to find a parking spot on the street for free. It was a bit of a walk to get to the entrance, but I cut through the park and got there just in time to catch Coheed and Cambria. They were definitely fun to watch, what with the guitarist having ridiculously long curly hair to swing around everywhere. Welcome Home was the song I was looking forward to, and I wasn't disappointed. For the finale, the guitarist picked up this white mannequin they had on stage and proceeded to play his guitar with it.
Left there to catch Tomahawk though, and OH MAN. Mike Patton has got to be on some kind of drugs, he is a crazy motherfucker. He was on a smaller stage and thus had a smaller crowd, which made for a better venue as usual. I got to get up pretty close to watch. He can do some crazy things with his voice (especially mixed witht he effects he does), and some of the ways he spoke and behaved made him seem extremely unpredictable and really nuts. I was stuck watching the drummer again though, this guy had some skill and looked like he was having a fucking blast. His knee for the bass was up really high, I don't know if he just had really long legs or was more comfortable like that, but he looked like he was all scrunched up playing around on the drumset. It's interesting now knowing where that smooth voice is coming from after listening to Puscifer and Tool for so long, and I am defintiely a Patton fan for life now.
Practically ran to Skrillex as Tomahawk was finishing up. It was just like I remember: one goddamn HELL of a show! I don't know whatit is, but Skrillex puts on one of the most exciting, electrifying, natural-high enducing shows EVER. I work my way into the crowd, and he blows up the stage with flames and fireworks and steam shooting out in front of the back screens, which are lit up with images and scenes that play out with the music. Not to mention the laser light show going on overhead. Almost everyone in the crowd was losing their minds dancing it out. THIS was the energy I'd been looking for all weekend! And of all shows THIS was the one to start a mosh pit! I threw myself in and thrashed around with everyone else for a while. We were packed together jumping all over each other in a massive blaze of energy and music. Sonny Moore is a fucking genius. I haven't felt this high or this good in ages, haven't gotten in a proper high-energy dance in a crowd of people in way too long.
What made it even better: half way through the show, I had my first fulfilled "wish a nigga would" moment. I've been looking to get into a fight for a while now, and some sorry motherfucker asked for it. I was dancing and jumping around with everyone else to the music, when this guy decides he's gonna grab my ass. I turn around and give him a warning smack on the jaw, and basically tell him to fuck off. Well, I turn back around, and low and behold this guy grabs my ass again. And for the first time in my life, completely unplanned, I truly slug a sorry motherfucker in the face. I come around with my right and punch him square in the cheek, cracking his nose and saying "I'm not fucking around dude, back the fuck off!" He stands for a minute while I yell at him, and blood just starts pouring out of his nose. The strangers around me know what went down and were giving me approving nods, haha. I moved to another part of the crowd to finish the show, just in case he decided he wanted to get some revenge or wipe his blood on me or something, but for the rest of it I was high as hell because I'd just given a dude exactly what he was asking for.
And then on to Jack White. I apologized my way through the crowd to about the middle, found a spot next to some nice strangers that thought Jack White was black before he came on stage, and proceed to bear my emotions out to this man's music. He's got the usual black-on-pinstripes with white suspenders and a straw fedora on, and the Louisiana humidity made his hair curl up and friz out way crazier than it normally does. He played songs from his new album, as well as stuff from the Dead Weather, The Raconteurs, and the White Stripes, as well as fucking Misirlou! Cut Like a Buffalo and Hang Your From the Heavens. Fell in Love with a Girl, Ball and Biscuit, and Seven Nation Army. Steady As She Goes. I just about died over how amazing it felt to watch him perform all of these live, my heart just about exploded. He had quite the group playing with him as well: old Mozart looking guy on a sit-down tabletop guitar, kid from Detroit on bass, some souly black men on drums and keyboard and piano. Jack White is a fucking god of music.
And then it was over. I managed to talk my way into leaving via the artist's entrance so that my hike back to my car would be cut by 80%, got a $20 parking ticket dropped onto my car (which is funny, because the regular event parking was $20 to begin with if I'd used that), and then a drive back home, listening to more podcasts and reminiscing on this past weekend. Here I am, slightly sore and tired and mostly unscathed, and more of a woman than I've ever been before. Music festivals are among the best experiences that I've had in my life, and hell knows I'm not done yet!
I got through the lines at the check-in and got to the festival just in time for Die Antwoord. Talk about weird! Ninja had his shirt off and kept doing dance moves that made his boobs jiggle, and the girl was just straaaange. They started off in orange jumpsuits and ended up taking off clothes and putting on new things with hoods repeatedly. The girl kept giving off this weird yelp in her high pitched voice... Definitely hamming it up. It was more than entertaining though, and I enjoyed watching the two of them look strange, act gangster, and have odd accents.
The Avett Brothers did not impress me. I wanted to like them, and I appreciated the instrumentality, but for whatever reason I wasn't enjoying the show. A stranger named Garrett noticed this and proceeded to introduce me to about 7 of his friends. I walked over to Say Anything with him and his friends, and after being introduced to yet more people, I kind of drifted off to the side to make room for dancing. Say Anything put on a great show! The music itself is stuff that I would've liked much more if I were still a teenager, but for being an old-guy teen in girl pants whining about his girlfriend, Max Bemis puts on a pretty good show. I danced my ass off and thrashed around a bit, unlike most of the other people there, who were standing around singing the lyrics and looking emo teenager-y. I enjoyed the high energy and all around had a good time. It was the closest thing to a semi-sort-of punk show I was going to get, and I made the best of it. What really set off the excitement was when the background decorations came crashing down during one of their faster songs... THAT was hilarious!
I caught a minute of Kaskade and listened to a bit of Neil Young on my way out, but I was ready to hit the buses again. Murk was waiting for me to get back to the house so that we could go to a costume contest at the Dragon's Den. He dressed as a bunny (kind of) with a black button down, black pants, a white tie, and a ridiculously large pair of fluffy bunny ears in hat form. I didn't bring a costume, so I just put on my zombie shirt and covered my arms in cat stamps. We stopped to pick up Beautiful Michael on the way, and man was he a sight! Face painted black, a toole scarf pulled over his face and stuffed with large pom-poms, a leather harness thing, unbuttoned jean shorts, and a pair of stocking stuffed with pom-poms, which made his legs look like they were covered in giant boils. Not to mention all of the ridiculous amounts of glitter. We think he was maybe dressed up as a tumor?
The Dragon's Den was pretty weird. I mean, what can you expect on Halloween weekend? The place itself was obviously used and abused, and the people inside were an absolute modge-podge of individuals. Most of the costumes were excellent, including a great legitimate looking Devil, a super-tall beautiful Marilyn Manson-looking cross dresser, and Xenon, the famous guy, and a fan from Xenon of the 21st Century. Those three basically took over the stage at one point and put on a ridiculous show waaaay too sexy for Xenon. Mafo showed up along with more friends and we had an awkward and drinkey time, alternately dancing and standing and chatting. Beautiful Michael happened to bring additional jars of glitter with him and drenched all of us in it. Seriously, I shook out my hair in Murk's tub later and practically covered the entire bottom of it. Murk got plenty in his eyes. We eventually left, went outside, realized it was cold, ran down to some random 24-hour kitchen mini mart to get some food (country fried steak and french fry poboys), and then found our way back to the car. I crashed on Murk and Mafo's super comfortable couch and slept like a baby.
I woke up around noon on Saturday. Finished my country fried steak for breakfast while watching Murk draw pictures. The streetcar/bus ride down to the festival wasn't as bad as the day before, seeing as I now knew exactly what I had to do. There was a nice chill in the air, which was a nice change from Saturday. I got to wear my hoodie and be a marsupial for the first time this season! It was interesting watching the difference between the festival goers and the regular New Orleans people on the bus. Some people knew the bus drivers very well, and would greet them warmly. Others seemed busy, bitter, or tired, but almost everyone was nice. I saw some people waiting for a streetcar that would never come, and did my good deed for the day by getting their attention and signalling them to catch a bus. I got to the festival, water in one hand, a tiny bottle of Jack Daniels in the other. CVS pharmacy apparently carries Jack Daniels, who knew.
Either way, my first stop was Feufollet, seeing as I always enjoy their shows and there was no one else I wanted to see. The music was excellent, of course, and the crowd wasn't overstuffed, so I got to be as close as I wanted. Smaller shows and crowds often make for a better experience, that's one reason I enjoyed Say Anything as much as I did. After a little Jack and enough lounging around Feufollet watching no one Cajun dance, I texted ol' Matt Zaunbrecher and met up with him and Emily out on the field in front of the main stage. I had a spare blanket and laid it out next to theirs. Emily drank to much and was basically passed out, so Matt and I went and grabbed us all some food, then sat and watch The Revivalists and Awolnation. I managed to find my traditional spinach and crawfish breadbowl, and all was right with the world.
I don't know much of anything about The Revivalists, but I really enjoyed their music, and they made for a great listen while relaxing on a blanket in the sun with a couple of friends. At one point a large group of Looney Toons characters made camp next to us, and they made a great show of dancing and acting their parts. There were literally about 10 of them all dressed up, including a Wile E. Coyote, complete with a helpless wooden sign and some Acme dynamite. A lot of the masks were huge papier-mache things, and the wearers often had extra long straws in their beers for easy access. Awolnation was better live than they are recorded, but I still really only listened so that I could catch Sail. The lead singer looks like a Kurt Cobain knock-off and screams unnecessarily. Like I said, their not-hit stuff sounds better live than it does recorded, but I wish more of their stuff sounded alien-esque like sail does, instead of actually screamy. More electronics!
We actually got up and got in the crowd to catch the Silversun Pickups though. Emily had sobered up a bit by that time and was ready to go places, and I was ready to get involved in some dancing. I was UBER surprised to see that the lead singer was a guy! In all the years I've known about them I'd always thought that the lead singer was a chick. He has a really nice voice! Their chick bassist was totally where it was at though, and I couldn't stop watching the drummer for the life of me. The bassist had on a red dress with pockets over the boobs that I want SO BAD, and I don't usually want dresses. I also really want to learn to play the drums well enough to participate in a band sometime. I listened and danced and screamed and enjoyed, especially when Panic Switch and Lazy Eye came on. Matt and Emily left to go get good spots for Justice, but I wanted to see Metallica.
Metallica. Rocked. So. HARD. I can see why, even after so many years, those guys still have such a huge fanbase. Their show was RIDICULOUS! James Hetfield had this insane look like he was straight out of the upper echelons of Hell, and he had a voice and a laugh to match. And talk about some insanely white teeth, with his white goatee that made his whole face look more... Attractively demonic, I guess. They just about blew my brains out with their rocking. Once again, I was thrashing around and dancing it out, and I was really surprised that no one started moshing, or that not more people were getting as pumped. It's fucking Metallica people! I was next to some nerdy strangers I'd just met that grew up on Metallica, so they were really excited too. I went to go catch a few minutes of Justice, and ended up coming in at just the right time: they just started their remix of D.A.N.C.E., and I jammed for the whole 10-15 minute session. Then I heard what I thought were gunshots. I look over towards the Metallica stage, and they're shooting off fucking FIREWORKS and FLAMETHROWERS. Needless to say, I was back over there in a flash and was not disappointed. They played pretty much all of their most well-known songs, both old and newer, with more fucking fireworks and more fucking flames shooting off at crescendos and shit. It was SO FUCKING AWESOME. They got really fast and really heavy, and my heart felt full and wild being exposed to so much just hardcore heavy rock for a while. Totally worth losing the hearing. And of course, sarcastic assholes they're going to be: They took Green Day's place in the lineup, so as one of their last songs they cover the first part of American Idiot. Fucking Metallica playing American Idiot! xD
The bus ride home was pretty uneventful because I was tired. Luckily I'd managed to get on three layers by that time (put on a spare tee shirt during Awolnation), because waiting for the St. Charles bus outside was COLD. I think bringing a Gatorade bottle for water during the trip was probably the smartest thing I could've done, I kept plenty hydrated no matter where I went. Once I got abck to The Fofo, Murk was ready to go to a house party. We get there and were the only people there at the time besides the house's owner and the birthday girl (and the brother asleep on the couch), but we all got a chance to make friends and dance like ladies. Eventually more people showed up, but me, Brooke, and Rachel were just having a blast dancing to random songs. I put on Come On Eileen to get the party started (that's such a great song.)
After drinks and red velvet cookies and getting the people that showed up to dance a little bit, we went to another house party that was a lot bigger and... New Orleans. The house was huge and very obviously old. Ancient chandeliers, almost no furniture except for antique couches, chairs, and tables, paintings on the walls, sparse bedroom, and a balcony that could be closed up, so was sort of an indoor/outdoor affair. 17 stairs on the staircase. I got everyone upstairs to sing What's Up by 4 Non Blondes, checked out the ccreepy abandoned house and pool in the backyard, and found a comfy spot downstairs on one of the old chairs. That's when things got weird... Some guy in a 70's trippy getup was singing a full acoustic set, two Frida Kahlos were walking about, a cracked out clown handed me a picture of a horse and creeped away, someone dressed up the mic stand as Arnold Schwartzenegger, Charlie Chaplin walked in and didn't break character once the entire time he was there, people started surfing across the floor on wet trashcan lids, eventually a guy in a bathrobe and a straw fedora basically passed out on the floor but continued to keep the 70's guy's beat by banging one of the trash can lids on the ground. I think it was the most New Orleans thing that has ever happened to me.
Left, dropped off ladies, dodged many potholes, got Rally's (apparently East for Checkers) by serenading the drive thru lady with Christmas carols, went to sleep on the couch cuddled underneath a Pokemon blanket.
Sunday, I woke up late because I stayed out until 4 in the morning the night before. Drove my car down to Magazine street (at Murk and Brooke's suggestions) to look for some clothes for my costume. The thrift shops down that street are amazing! I saw so many vintage-y stylish things that I wanted to keep. If there is ever a place to go clothes shopping for me, it is New Orleans. Some of the places were combination thrift shops and costume shops, and I accidentally walked into a couple that were strictly fancy costume. Some of the things for sale were extravagant, from sequined dresses to stacks of top hats to clothes racks sorted by decade (from 20's to 90's). I found a good pair of cowboy boots and a brown jacket at Buffalo Exchange, which is pretty much THE place to go for not ridiculously priced used clothes.
From there, I drove to the festival and managed to find a parking spot on the street for free. It was a bit of a walk to get to the entrance, but I cut through the park and got there just in time to catch Coheed and Cambria. They were definitely fun to watch, what with the guitarist having ridiculously long curly hair to swing around everywhere. Welcome Home was the song I was looking forward to, and I wasn't disappointed. For the finale, the guitarist picked up this white mannequin they had on stage and proceeded to play his guitar with it.
Left there to catch Tomahawk though, and OH MAN. Mike Patton has got to be on some kind of drugs, he is a crazy motherfucker. He was on a smaller stage and thus had a smaller crowd, which made for a better venue as usual. I got to get up pretty close to watch. He can do some crazy things with his voice (especially mixed witht he effects he does), and some of the ways he spoke and behaved made him seem extremely unpredictable and really nuts. I was stuck watching the drummer again though, this guy had some skill and looked like he was having a fucking blast. His knee for the bass was up really high, I don't know if he just had really long legs or was more comfortable like that, but he looked like he was all scrunched up playing around on the drumset. It's interesting now knowing where that smooth voice is coming from after listening to Puscifer and Tool for so long, and I am defintiely a Patton fan for life now.
Practically ran to Skrillex as Tomahawk was finishing up. It was just like I remember: one goddamn HELL of a show! I don't know whatit is, but Skrillex puts on one of the most exciting, electrifying, natural-high enducing shows EVER. I work my way into the crowd, and he blows up the stage with flames and fireworks and steam shooting out in front of the back screens, which are lit up with images and scenes that play out with the music. Not to mention the laser light show going on overhead. Almost everyone in the crowd was losing their minds dancing it out. THIS was the energy I'd been looking for all weekend! And of all shows THIS was the one to start a mosh pit! I threw myself in and thrashed around with everyone else for a while. We were packed together jumping all over each other in a massive blaze of energy and music. Sonny Moore is a fucking genius. I haven't felt this high or this good in ages, haven't gotten in a proper high-energy dance in a crowd of people in way too long.
What made it even better: half way through the show, I had my first fulfilled "wish a nigga would" moment. I've been looking to get into a fight for a while now, and some sorry motherfucker asked for it. I was dancing and jumping around with everyone else to the music, when this guy decides he's gonna grab my ass. I turn around and give him a warning smack on the jaw, and basically tell him to fuck off. Well, I turn back around, and low and behold this guy grabs my ass again. And for the first time in my life, completely unplanned, I truly slug a sorry motherfucker in the face. I come around with my right and punch him square in the cheek, cracking his nose and saying "I'm not fucking around dude, back the fuck off!" He stands for a minute while I yell at him, and blood just starts pouring out of his nose. The strangers around me know what went down and were giving me approving nods, haha. I moved to another part of the crowd to finish the show, just in case he decided he wanted to get some revenge or wipe his blood on me or something, but for the rest of it I was high as hell because I'd just given a dude exactly what he was asking for.
And then on to Jack White. I apologized my way through the crowd to about the middle, found a spot next to some nice strangers that thought Jack White was black before he came on stage, and proceed to bear my emotions out to this man's music. He's got the usual black-on-pinstripes with white suspenders and a straw fedora on, and the Louisiana humidity made his hair curl up and friz out way crazier than it normally does. He played songs from his new album, as well as stuff from the Dead Weather, The Raconteurs, and the White Stripes, as well as fucking Misirlou! Cut Like a Buffalo and Hang Your From the Heavens. Fell in Love with a Girl, Ball and Biscuit, and Seven Nation Army. Steady As She Goes. I just about died over how amazing it felt to watch him perform all of these live, my heart just about exploded. He had quite the group playing with him as well: old Mozart looking guy on a sit-down tabletop guitar, kid from Detroit on bass, some souly black men on drums and keyboard and piano. Jack White is a fucking god of music.
And then it was over. I managed to talk my way into leaving via the artist's entrance so that my hike back to my car would be cut by 80%, got a $20 parking ticket dropped onto my car (which is funny, because the regular event parking was $20 to begin with if I'd used that), and then a drive back home, listening to more podcasts and reminiscing on this past weekend. Here I am, slightly sore and tired and mostly unscathed, and more of a woman than I've ever been before. Music festivals are among the best experiences that I've had in my life, and hell knows I'm not done yet!