2009: Year in Review

Looking back at 2009, I went to a hell of a lot of concerts. Though I only started tracking it this year, I can still confidently say that I attended more concerts this year than I had in any previous year. I’m also really glad that I started writing this blog this year, a perfect meshing of my two loves, live music and verbose memoirs. Though I’ll probably be the only one interested in them, I’ve compiled a statistical review of my concert experiences for the year.

I attended 34 concerts and festivals this year, including 28 individual shows and 6 festivals, averaging a concert event a little over every 10 days. 18 of these concerts were sold out. Clearly, my venue of choice was the 9:30 Club in DC, where I saw 10 shows this year. A distance second was Merriweather Post Pavilion with 3. A majority of shows were in the DC metro area; though I did attended shows in 3 other states (all festivals) and my first in another country (Canada counts, right?). Though I saw shows on every day of the week and nearly every month of the year (except for February for some reason), not surprisingly, the month of August and Saturday evenings stood out as having way above the average. Nine of my events occurred within 26 days at the end of July through mid August, including 4 Saturdays in a row.

Including all the bands that I specifically remember seeing at festivals for at least a few songs (more than just walking by), I saw a total of 72 bands this year, of which 43 were bands that I’d never seen before, while the remaining 29 were old favorites. This excludes opening acts that didn’t receive billing. Festivals were a great place for me to see new music, as I saw 29 new bands for the first time at festivals, versus individual concerts, where I was split (14 apiece) between old and new. I saw Phish more times than any other band in 2009, including 2 individual concerts and 2 shows at festivals. I saw 10 other bands twice, half including bands I had seen before this year (Guster, Modest Mouse, moe., Umphrey's McGee, Yonder Mountain String Band) and half bands I had never seen before 2009 (Decemberists, Flaming Lips, Girl Talk, MGMT, Passion Pit).

Concerts are always more fun with friends, and I was able to convince someone to come with me to every concert. Jeff Schiz was clearly my concert buddy of choice, as he and I attended 17 events together (including 4 festivals). Lauren (7), Benji (7), Kaitlin (5), and Joey (5) fell into the next tier, even though I didn’t attend a concert with Lauren before mid July of this year and didn’t attend one after the end of August and the end of July with Benji and Kaitlin, respectively.

What a year! And it only cost me $1,468 in tickets!

Phish, John Paul Jones Arena, Charlottesville, Virginia

It was the first snow of the year as I climbed into the car with Schiz, Rick, and Jason in the early afternoon to drive down to Charlottesville, Virginia to see my fourth Phish show of the year (as tallied by the system that Schiz and me agreed upon during the car ride down), and their final of the 2009 Fall Tour. It was a nostalgic drive down to Charlottesville for me, as I recounted the landmarks on the route that I drove many times to UVA to see Lauren.

The show was at John Paul Jones Arena, where the Cavaliers play their home basketball games, in front of a sold out crowd of over 15,000 phans. To my surprise, there seemed to be a plethora of tickets available outside the venue, with one phan in line next to me at the gate remarking that she just bought a floor ticket for just $20. This is in stark contrast to the last show I went to at Merriweather in August where you couldn’t beg, borrow, or steal a ticket outside the venue. I have no idea why there was such a discrepancy. The four of us had 2 pairs of tickets, though we were all in the same general vicinity in the upper section. The ID check line for beer was way too long for me, considering I was driving us home, so while the others waited in line to buy beer, I headed to my seat for the start of the show. I made it to my seat as Phish took the stage.

Phish started the first set off with a bang, beginning with “AC/DC Bag”, then transitioning to “Chalk Dust Torture”, and “Stealing Time from the Faulty Plan” before tackling one of my person favorites, “The Divided Sky.” In the middle of the song’s extended jam, the entire band stopped playing for a full minute and a half while the crowd happily made up for the silence with deafening applause. Afterwards, I left my seat to go meet Schiz and Rick in their section. During this time, a naked phan jumped onstage, requiring four security guards get him under control and off the stage. Trey commended him for having the guts to attempt such a feat.

It was no problem to find a little extra room where Schiz and Rick were sitting. Unlike most other shows, I’d estimate that few phans were actually in their assigned seats. For the most part, it was a free for all. The GA section on the floor was flooded with people, many of who were probably not supposed to be there as was the bottom end of each section and the aisles. It seems like security knew that trying to stop phans from doing whatever they wanted was an exercise in futility, so they didn’t bother. What can I say, hippies don’t like rules. Jason, who I’ve started many concerts with, was nowhere to be found as is his MO, and he was one of many trying to work his way through the crowds and security. I still have yet to spend more than a few minutes with Jason while a band is playing.

The latter half of the first set was a little less memorable for me, though it did include a couple great songs including “Cavern” and an amazing version of David Bowie featuring an extended jam. The second set started well and picked up midway through with renditions of “Suzy Greenberg” and “Golgi Apparatus” despite some annoying feedback noise that seemed to happen one too many times on the watches of the professional and experienced roadies that I would expect Phish to be traveling with. The tail end of the set also included a version of “Run Like an Antelope” where the chorus of was changed to “You’ve got to run like a naked guy out of control.” Too bad the naked guy was most likely sitting in a jail cell somewhere and couldn’t hear Trey paying him tribute. Also included in the setlist was “Loving Cup,” a Rolling Stones song that while nothing new for Phish to be covering, has new context for phans as it was played as part of Phish’s most recent Halloween musical costume when they covered the entirety of the Stone’s Exile on Main Street at Festival 8. Finally while approaching the 3 hour mark of the show, they launched into “Tweezer Reprise” to close the show. Since they began the set with “Tweezer,” I knew they would end with the reprise version. It’s one of the few predictable elements of a Phish setlist.

The crowd poured out of John Paul Jones Arena and I got to catch another glimpse of the entertaining phans, one who was casually (and drunkenly) smoking a cigarette in the crowded hallway without any concern for who it might be offending. I found another drunken phan on the walk to the car highly entertaining as well. He was tapping against the glass of the drive-in window at Taco Bell asking the teller for some food. She refused his request on the grounds that he would have to be in a car to use the drive-in window. His response: “so you WANT me to get a DUI?” You can’t argue with that logic.

Set List:
AC/DC Bag
Chalk Dust Torture
Stealing Time from the Faulty Plan
The Divided Sky
Ya Mar
Sneakin' Sally Thru the Alley
Old Home Place
Cavern
Funky Bitch
David Bowie
The Wedge
Bold as Love
Tweezer
Light
Piper
Free
Sweet Virginia
Harry Hood
Suzy Greenberg
Golgi Apparatus
Run Like an Antelope
Loving Cup
Tweezer Reprise

Club Scout, Rock & Roll Hotel, Washington, DC

I headed into DC Thursday night to catch a show by local band Club Scout, fronted by my college friend Benny Eiserike. A fairly recent addition to the DC music scene, Club Scout has played dozen or so shows at Rock and Roll Hotel, Red and the Black, DC9, and other venues around town. With influences in punk and power pop, Thursday night was another clear example of Club Scout increasing their comfort on stage and building their repertoire of songs. Either because or in spite of the fact that most of the audience knew someone in the band, the band was excited and upbeat throughout the performance. The volume was turned way up for Benny to flex his pipes in the small club with accompaniment from powerful guitar riffs and forceful drum beats. Though a short set, it was comprised of all original songs and served as a fun introduction for a night of music at Rock and Roll Hotel. After the show, I was able to finagle a signed copy of the setlist.

Setlist:
Creepsicle
Pretty & Lazy
Holden Caulfield
Watch the Kids…
A Lot Like Me
I Saw You with Devon
Like a Rabbit
Ms. Jones
Goes Again

Umphrey’s McGee, 9:30 Club, Washington, DC

Across many genres in the music industry, it’s very common that bands are able to put together solid albums, but lack the energy and innovation required for a fun and interesting live show. The jam band scene differs substantially in this regard, in that popular bands may produce many lackluster albums but develop a following stemming from word of mouth regarding their live performances. These are the bands whose albums I’ve never desired to listen to more than once, but thoroughly enjoy each live show I see. To me, Umphrey’s McGee is the archetype of this latter model.

In front of their key demographic of 22-35 year old hippies and other white people with hippy-ish tendencies, Umphrey’s McGree, sans opener, took the stage early on Saturday night to finish up their two night run at the 9:30 Club. It was my second time seeing them at the 9:30 Club, and the third overall, so I knew I was in for a fun evening. Since I’m not a diehard fan, there were only a few songs that I specifically recognized and none of them by name. Nevertheless, it was an energetic and enjoyable show with an enthusiastic crowd. The six piece band, including 2 guitarists, bassist, keyboardist, and 2 percussionists, played their two sets of selections from their ever-changing setlist, complete with crowd interaction and ample improvisation throughout the entire evening. Though perhaps forgettable, it was a great way for friends to spend a Saturday evening.

Guster, 9:30 Club, Washington, DC

There are few bands that I’d actually want to see two nights in a row. Truthfully, Guster isn’t really one of them either, but I wound up going a second night because single night tickets for both nights were sold out but two night tickets were available. Nonetheless, I was happy to have an opportunity to see them again, despite knowing I’d see a very similar show. Much of it was a repeat of the previous evening. However, it ended up being a different experience because Schiz joined me instead and I was seeing the show through much more inebriated eyes.

Though many of the staples of the previous evening’s first set were present again, several variations were played including new songs “Diane” and “Satellite” and old favorite “Rocket Ship.” A second set for Lost and Gone Forever played out in a very similar fashion, though was still enjoyable.

Guster, 9:30 Club, Washington, DC

It’s hard to believe that it’s been a decade since the Guster’s Lost and Gone Forever, which though their third album, played a crucial role in launching them to mainstream success. In honor of the anniversary, Guster played a handful of shows, including back-to-back shows at the 9:30 Club, that would feature a set that included Lost and Gone Forever in its entirety. Given the material, the performance was in front of a crowd that was noticeably older than the average one at the 9:30 Club. Though I had seen Guster many times before, Lost and Gone Forever has always been one of my favorite albums, so I was certainly looking forward to the opportunity to see it live, especially getting to see the show with my sister, who accompanied me in developing an infatuation for Guster in high school.

Without an opener, Guster took the stage a little after 8:30. Their first set was a nice mix of older (pre-Lost and Gone Forever) songs, including “X-Ray Eyes,” “Demons,” and “Airport Song” mixed in with newer selections like “Keep It Together” and “One Man Wrecking Machine.” They also included a clever, even if cliché, cover of “Don’t Fear the Reaper” following a rendition of their original song “Red Oyster Cult,” complete with drum tech Scooter performing an homage to Will Ferrell’s cowbell obsessed Saturday Night Live character.

Between sets, a short video chronicling the production of the album played, featuring interviews with a much younger looking band and producer Steve Lillywhite. Taking the stage again, the band kept their promise, launching into “What You Wish For,” the album’s first track. Though front man Ryan Miller’s assessment was correct in that the order of the album doesn’t necessarily flow as the best possible live set, no one in the audience cared as we were all so happy to hear the album that introduced many of us to the band. It couldn’t even be ruined by Ryan’s more than occasional forgetting of words or getting lost in the song. Guster worked their way through the album, adding a new flavor and guest performers to many of the songs, including strings on “Either Way,” brass on “Fa Fa,” and even a children’s choir on “All the Way Up to Heaven.” Even though the latter added little to the robustness of the performance, it was certainly a fun novelty. I fell in love with the album all over again, wishing that Guster’s newer material was able to capture the more raw essence of their first albums. I longed for their newer music to display their more exuberant attitude and indie sound which was lost on their newer, more mainstream work, especially what I considered to be the band’s strongest point, ample use of Brian Rosenworcel’s hands racing across the bongo drums.

To thunderous applause, Guster finished the final song on the album, “Rainy Day,” but returned shortly for an encore that included a classic version of “Come Downstairs and Say Hello” and a completely unplugged version of “Jesus on the Radio,” a novel concept which I had never seen attempted before at the 9:30 Club or any other venue.

Matisyahu, The Fillmore, San Francisco, California

I’ve had mixed experiences with Matisyahu. He put on a great show at Virgin Fest in summer 2007, but his fall 2008 show in Baltimore left much to be desired. While his festival set list was filled with fan favorites and a desire to interact with the audience, he was quiet and lethargic in Baltimore, choosing to allow an array of other artists utilize his stage, even if undeserving. His weak set list and unenthusiastic attitude didn’t capture the essence of his album or persona. There was too much humming; not enough rocking.

So when the opportunity arose to see him again at San Francisco’s historic Fillmore Auditorium touring to promote his newest album “Light,” I was truthfully more excited about the venue than the act, only deciding to go because Lauren expressed interest. I was pleasantly surprised and impressed by nearly all aspects of the show. With his traditional backing band consisting of guitar, keyboards, bass, and drums, Matisyahu unleashed an entire evening of powerful and soulful music, with his trademark fusion of hip hop, beatboxing, dancehall reggae, and alternative rock sprinkled with traditional Hasidic cantors in a mix of Hebrew and Yiddish. He was effortless in exciting the crowd with any number of his popular hits, now spanning several albums. Mixing in old with new, Lauren and I danced and jumped to many of our favorite songs, including “Chop ‘em Down,” “Exaltation,” “King Without a Crown” and “Warrior,” allowing each member of his band ample time for guitar or drum solos when appropriate. Though his new album isn’t one of my favorites, hearing a few of the selections live allowed me to enjoy them at a new level. After a short break, he brought out local artist, Lynx, with whom he performed a duet of crowd favorite, “Beat Box.” Playing off each other, it was one of the better versions of the song I’ve heard. For the final song of the encore, he selected his arguably most famous song, “Jerusalem”, which I had yet to hear live. His choice to play the remixed “Out of the Darkness Comes Light” version of the song was an especially good choice to fully utilize the presence of the band. I’m seriously considering seeing the show again at the end of November when Matisyahu makes his way to the east coast.

Treasure Island Music Festival, Treasure Island, San Francisco, California

Saturday

Though I would have gone out there anyway at some point in the fall, I scheduled my trip to visit Lauren in San Francisco around the Treasure Island Music Festival, held each year on Treasure Island, an artificial island in the San Francisco Bay just north of the SF-Oakland Bay Bridge, featuring two days of mostly indie music over a mid-October weekend. Unfortunately, we caused ourselves much more strife than necessary in assuming that we could wait till the last minute to secure tickets, and the Saturday show was sold out in the day or two prior to the show. Though we were able to get Sunday tickets, attempts to get a Saturday set on Craiglist proved frustrating and fruitless. Through a friend of a friend, Lauren was able to get one ticket, but we were still short a second come Saturday morning. Late morning, we headed down to AT&T Park, home of the San Francisco Giants, to catch a shuttle to the island, in hopes that we’d be able to pick up an extra ticket somewhere along the way.

On our walk, we happened to cross paths with a guy who also seemed to be on his way to the show. Not sure exactly where to go himself, he joined us in our search. As luck would have it, he was also in possession of an extra ticket, which he was looking to unload. We chatted with him on the way to the venue and purchased his extra 2 day ticket at a discount. We were now up a ticket as we had an extra one for the following day. Go figure.

It was barely noon, much earlier than we would have arrived if we hhadn'tbeen in need of a ticket, so we just decided to take advantage of it by seeing the immediate vicinity of the island and festival grounds. Treasure Island is a medium sized festival, drawing a crowd of approximately 25-30,000 people each day. With two stages, it’s possible to catch every song of every band playing, even if you don’t ever move from a blanket placed somewhere between both stages. When one band finishes, the next is set up and ready to play on the opposing stage. As in any festival, tents and stands line the pathways, selling anything from burritos and beer to sweaters and stickers. The grounds also featured a rickety old Ferris Wheel, which by mid afternoon, had a long line that didn't seem to justify the experience.

The first day’s line up had a more electronic and hip hop focus, which drew a younger crowd. It was a beautiful, sunny day, probably reaching 80 degrees at least. Being a music festival in the bay area, the freaks were certainly out, and many attendees adorned costumes, including animals, stormtroopers, pirates, and pimps. A few motorized cupcake costumes/go-carts also drove about the walkways early in the day before the crowd thickened.

The day’s music stated with The Limousines on the main stage, a more local act featuring a duo of a vocalist and a laptop-based DJ. Following on the other stage were the Crown City Rockers, who blended rap lyrics with jazz rock, as popularized by the Roots. We next saw MURS, which to my undiscerning ear for hip hop, sounded like more “typical” hip hop. While enjoyable, it lacked anything particularly memorable or unique to me, just lyrics over more traditional beats. However, I do give MURS credit for maintaining more positive attitudes to life, responsibility, and relationships with women than many other artists.

It was still early afternoon when Passion Pit took the main stage, one of the acts for which I was most excited. Though I did see them at Bonnaroo in June, I made the terrible mistake of getting a little too inebriated to fully enjoy the show, so I was thrilled for a second chance to see them live. Passion Pit only came on the scene in the last year, but hit the ground running with an indie pop and electronic mix that sparks giddiness and exuberance. Their full stage of five members features a background of a traditional drum kit and bass, but excludes guitars in favor of a slew of keyboard, synthesizers, a laptop, and other sampling equipment to showcase catchy melodies and pulsing beats. I had very high expectations for Passion Pit, stemming from my love of their debut album, “Manners,” my recollections of their previous show, and the hype surrounding them. I was able to convince Lauren to move towards the front of the stage with me, promising that it would be the only time during the weekend that I would insist on doing so. Most of the band sounded great, as they artfully mixed the familiarity of their album with the updates and improvisation of live performance. But while the rest of the band was spot on, lead vocalist Michael Angelakos’s voice sounded weak. Normally, his easily confused for being female, falsetto voice belts out surreal, self-explorative lyrics overtop the epic melodies, but on that sunny Saturday afternoon, his voice cracked and failed to register over the rest of the instruments. I’m not sure whether he was having an off day or if his youth and inexperience on the national music scene has yet to afford him the opportunity to perfect the art of the festival live performance. Regardless, I still enjoyed their set, jumping up and down to my favorite songs, including the anthem-esque “Moth’s Wings” and “Let Your Love Grow Tall” and the dance floor appropriate “Little Secrets,” which despite the absence of the choir of 5th graders present on the album, still popped.

Next to take the main stage was The Streets, stage name of British born garage rock hip hop artist Mike Skinner. His showcasing a Cockney accent despite hailing from Birmingham allows him to spit a mix of hip hop, rhymed speech, and song, imparting introspective and philosophical lyrics. Backed by fellow Brit Kevin Mark Trail, who incorporated his own blend of R&B, soul, and hip hop, The Streets instantly developed high rapport with the audience, interacting with the crowd, with Skinner showing his regained deep appreciation for his audience and fame, which was clearly fading several years ago.

Following The Streets, we mostly took a break from music and opted to wander around the various stands, snacking and perusing clothing and art. Night was setting in as MSTRKRFT took the stage, a laptop-only duo churning out throbbing dance punk beats. Mixed with lights and the occasional voice over, it was the first time that day where the rest of the audience joined me in dancing and jumping up and down. Sampling beats while taking swigs of Crown Royal, MSTRKRFT seemed a pair that truly loved their job, as if they were just DJing their own party with 30,000 of their closest friends.

The last act of the second stage for the evening was Girl Talk, stage name of Gregg Gillis, a mash up artist sampling everything from Bon Jovi to Michael Jackson, from Jay-Z to Radiohead. This takes advantage of a nearly universal familiarity of his music, even for those who’ve never heard his name or his compilations prior. Since not too much else is happening on-stage, he invites a hundred or so sweaty kids up to join him, probably on the sole condition that they are moving the entire set. Again the crowd was dancing and jumping, with Lauren and I happily in the thick up it. A sober day for the both of us, it was the one show we saw that I really would have liked to have had a few drinks in me.

MGMT closed down a great day of music on the main stage. Prior to their set they announced that they would play the entirety of the album that launched them to success, 2007’s “Oracular Spectacular.” The crowd was excited as they immediately launched into “Time to Pretend,” keeping with the day’s theme of blending synthesizer indie pop and electronic with traditional rock instrumentation. Since many of the fan favorites on the album are loaded towards the front, people began streaming out as they got into their set. In a way, it was a wise move to ensure a more even flow of people to the buses returning people to San Francisco. After hearing a rendition of “Kids” I knew that I had heard all the songs I really felt I needed to hear, and we made our exit with the other throngs of people. Another fan standing with me compared it to leaving a football game early during a blowout: you’re tired and the exciting part is over, so why not just home. It was a long day of music, and while I’d like to blame our early departure on Lauren, I have to admit that I was equally ready to head home when she indicated that she wanted to head to the buses. It was nearly a 12 hour day after all.

We rushed to the buses, dreading the long lines that would take the masses home. I was pleasantly surprised to find that the logistics operated like clockwork. People were funneled onto buses for their return trip home, and we were even able to divest our Sunday extra ticket in line, taking only a reasonable hit.

Sunday

With tickets in hand, getting to the show the next day was much more relaxing. Though not appreciated, it certainly was fitting for the mellower rock-focused day of shows that the weather had cooled drastically. Lauren and I bundled up in sweaters, fleeces, and caps as the chilly wind whipped across Treasure Island. As compared to the day before, the crowd was much older and had checked the weather report and was properly dressed, though there were still a few poor souls in t-shirts and shorts.

We arrived mid afternoon in time for Grizzly Bear, which was equally bundled for warmth on the main stage. Grizzly Bear mixes psychedelic pop, folk, and experimental rock, utilizing acoustic guitars and ethereal vocal harmonies. Though mostly a subdued set, it lived up towards the end as the sun tried to peak through the clouds. We opted to not stray over to the other stage as much on the second day, as it was really only a few of the acts that we wanted to see. This afforded us the opportunity to plant ourselves on a blanket for a good part of the day, huddling together against the ground where it was warmest.

The next act on the main stage was Beirut. Since I mistakenly thought was a one man project, I was surprised by their slew of performers playing a variety of Eastern European influenced folk-pop music, complete with a brass section and an accordion, which I have grown to appreciate in recent years with other gypsy fusions bands like DeVotchKa and Gogol Bordello. Singer Zac Condon’s vocals complimented the meandering wa-wa sound of the trumpets and tuba. Except for a brief tuba solo which got some in the crowd moving, Beirut’s slow set list, like Grizzly Bear’s, was well suited for a chilly afternoon beneath the clouds.

The next band to take the main stage, The Decemberists, were another I saw at Bonnaroo earlier this year, but I only stayed briefly, instead opting to catch the majority of the Mars Volta on that Saturday afternoon in Tennessee. It was only in seeing them again that I realized what a mistake I might have made. Though only comprised of 5 official members, the stage was filled with additional players on keyboards, guitars, and backing vocals. Being the first band to play after the sun went down, they were also the first I saw to really rock hard on that chilly evening. Like MGMT the night before, the Decemberists chose to play the entirety of their most recent album, “The Hazards of Love.” I don’t remember them announcing it before or during their set though, only realizing looking at the set list online later. However, I certainly did notice that I wasn’t hearing any of my favorite selections from their previous album. “The Hazards of Love” is clearly one of those albums that translated well to a live setting, transitioning from high to low and fast to slow seamlessly over the course of the set. The band seemed to include some extended jams in certain sections, though this may have just been an illusion as their set took only an hour, within a few minutes of time required to play the original album on a stereo.

Like The Decemberists, I had seen the closing act of the evening, The Flaming Lips, earlier this year, at the Green Apple Festival on Earth Day on the National Mall. The first time around, I was very impressed with their psychedelic and unique performance. I was excited for Lauren to get to see and enjoy such an off the wall show. This time around many of the same themes remained, with perhaps some even more extreme elements. As their set began, the stage erupted in an array of flashing rainbow colors as members of the band began to warm up. A video of a naked woman dancing seductively played on the jumbotron, culminating with a close up of her psychedelic crotch and several other members of the band, including front man Wayne Coyne, making a grand entrance through the screen from a mechanism on the other side. Coyne immediately got into his giant plastic bubble, a la the bubble boy, and paraded atop the outstretched hands of the crowd while confetti and streamers blanketed the air. The spectacle of the show was certainly grand, and I frequently hoisted Lauren in the air so see could see the celebration. However, after the novelty of the event faded, the performance left much to be desired. Coyne insisted on making repeated attempts to converse with the audience, in some cases seeming to forget that he was in the middle of a song and his band mates were expecting the lyrics to the next verse. Though admittedly, as dizzying as trippy close-ups of his face on the screen were, they weren’t out of place amongst the flurry of paper, explosions of confetti, dancing girls, and creature costumes. Having believed we have achieved the desired effect from the show and the weekend, we again left the show before the final curtain call, deciding to retreat from the cold night air to the warmth of the bus.

Yonder Mountain String Band, 930 Club, Washington, DC

Of my many concerts, I’ve seen few bands as many times as progressive bluegrass quartet Yonder Mountain String Band. Though their live albums often don’t compare, their live performances are of consistently high caliber. Friday night was perhaps my sixth or seventh YMSB show and my second at the 930 Club, one of my favorite venues. Schiz, who is a staple of nearly every Yonder show I’ve seen, picked up tickets for the both of us along with his girlfriend Ali and friend Jason. We arrived at the venue shortly before show time, too late for any openers that might have played. Though the show had sold out shortly before we walked in, the floor seemed fairly scant, though much of the crowd was dressed in plaid and other appropriate bluegrass apparel. Within a few minutes after 9pm, Yonder was on stage with their traditional set up of banjo, guitar, mandolin, and upright bass.

We found a spot towards the back right corner and joined the crowd in getting warmed up for the show. They threw together a nice mix of old and new songs. Slow and tender selections would transition into rhythmic and energetic jams. The venue filled up as the crowd excitedly danced and jumped to favorites like “Left Me in a Hole,” “Too Late Now,” “Idaho,” “Just the Same,” “If There's Still Ramblin' in the Rambler (Let Him Go),” and “Troubled Mind.” I found myself not knowing the names of many of the songs, but being inexplicably familiar with many of the words, notes, and rhythms. I gradually felt our group slide further back in search of more room to dance. The plucking banjo and smooth base lines encouraged the crowd to hoedown, with some groups breaking off into circles, men swinging their female partners. Towards the end of the show, I joined a small group of guys in a symphony of clapping hands, each member choosing an interval that would be distinct yet still harmonious with the group. Two sets, two encores, and three and a half hours later, my face glowed from both a smile and an ample amount of sweat.

U2 & Muse, Fed-Ex Field, Landover, Maryland

Now maybe not everyone does this, but as someone infatuated with live music and lists, in moments of my mind wandering, I’ve crafted various bucket lists of which bands I want to see. Since I started crafting such lists several years ago, one band always unequivocally held the top slot, Irish rock gods U2. Though I have had some terrible luck getting tickets to the big events of the year, I secured my ability to get a crop of tickets to the U2 360° Tour by signing up for the U2 fan club. The various little perks and extended web access seemed inane to me, I just wanted the opportunity to purchase top notch seats for their September show at Fed-Ex Field before the general sale.

By the day of the concert, half of the original people that I purchased tickets for were no longer coming, though it was pretty easy to find other people to go in their place. After a little arm twisting on my part as to our hour of arrival at the show, I convinced Joey, Katie, and Mike to get in line with me by mid-afternoon so that we could secure a good spot at the show. We metroed out to Fed Ex Field and hopped in line by 4pm, only 1,100 people from the front. We killed the time chatting about U2 and world politics, while avoiding the throngs of do-gooders from Greenpeace and the ONE Campaign who tried to convince us that we could save the world if we just gave them our email addresses.

At 5pm, the doors opened and we rushed through the stadium towards the field, surveying the territory for the best vantage point we could find. The tour was named the 360° Tour, because of the new special stage that was developed for the show, a spaceship like platform with spider-esque legs jutting out to each corner. Though there is a clear front and back, a circular stage surrounded by a walkway allowed the band to showcase their talents to every corner of the venue. Much to my delight, I found that we were early enough to gain entrance into the “inner circle,” located between the stage and the outer walkway. The four of us settled into a cozy little spot in the crowd towards the back right side of this circle about 40 feet from the stage.

Another friend of mine, Nico, had come to the show separately with some other friends. Fully committed to the experience, he had gotten in line first thing in the morning in hopes of getting one of the best seats in the house. He had positioned himself at the back of the circle, halfway between the left and right sides. There wasn’t really enough room where Nico was standing for my group to join him, though he and I were able to briefly chat. Though my group showed up hours after he did, I didn’t think our seats were too much worse than his. Schiz, another friend of mine, for who I had purchased tickets was planning on meeting us. However, work and traffic kept him from getting to the venue in time for the start of the show, so the inner circle was already full by the time he arrived. Without our additional friends, we chatted with surrounding fans in anticipation for the show. This worked out well as we were able to get a large group of people standing in the area to agree to act as a single group so as to ensure that outsiders didn’t try to weasel their way into our spot, particularly when someone had to venture to the bathroom. The crowd was a mixture of young and old, including our group of first timers as well as seasoned veterans whose love of U2 began on the War and Joshua Tree tours in the 80’s. The thirtysomething couple next to me were obvious long time fans and was trying to instill their love of U2 in their seven year old daughter, who they hoisted onto their shoulders for the entire show.

As day turned to evening, we waited for the opener, award-winning English alternative rock trio, Muse, to take the stage. Openers for U2 would normally be headliners in their own right, so it was clear that Muse were seasoned performers. Though I didn’t specifically recognize any of their songs, their powerful guitar rifts and their singer’s vibrato voice reverberated well throughout the stadium and excited the crowd. After 45 minutes of lights and music the crowd was primed for the main act.

Again, the lights went down and the crowd cheered wildly as lights flashed and smoked billowed onto the stage. Then the spot lights redirected towards a lone figure hurrying across the stage: Larry Mullen Jr. sitting down to his drum kit. He pounded an unfamiliar intro as Adam Clayton and The Edge took up positions to my right and left, respectively. Finally, Bono sauntered to the center microphone as Larry’s drum beat became more familiar and Adam and The Edge finally started pulling strings. Bono then grabbed the microphone and began the first verse of “Breathe” as lights flooded the stage and the stadium erupted with sound.

I was thoroughly enjoying the spot that we had picked out. Most of my attention focused on the band, yet I was still far enough back that I could enjoy the lights on the stage and the projections on the LED jumbotron. Since their new album, No Line on the Horizon, isn’t my favorite in their catalogue (as I expect is the case for most fans), hearing three songs of it early in the set was a smart choice on their part, helping to build anticipation for the staples tunes we were all there to see. A few songs in, we began hearing more classic selections like the danceable “Mysterious Ways”, the gospel influenced “I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For”, and the sound effect laden “Elevation.” By this point I was already jumping up and down and dancing enthusiastically as the rest of my group watched in amusement at how excited I was to be at the show. More than once I noticed that I was the only one in the immediately vicinity dancing or that my head rose above all others when I jumped up and down in excitement.

Periodically, each member of the band, individually or in pairs, would make their way to the outer stage, still wirelessly mike'd, to get a little closer to the crowd. Though they would often be facing away from us at this point, this would be the closest we would get to any of the band members during the show. Since we were towards the back of the section, almost against the back railing, sometimes it was within 10 feet. Often, we’d rush towards each band member, causing our positions within the audience to shift slightly. U2 chose a set list that carefully ramped the crowd up, then brought it back down, interlacing slower, melodic songs like “Your Blue Room”, “Stuck in a Moment You Can't Get Out Of,” and “The Unforgettable Fire” with more upbeat songs like “Beautiful Day” and “New Year's Day.”

Somewhere around the midpoint in the show, the multimillion dollar stage justified its expense when the tessellations that comprise the jumbotron screen spread into a massive latticed structure displaying lights and disjointed images. At the other end of the stage, Bono invited a young boy onto the walkway with him, chatted with him privately for a moment, and then proceeded to serenade the boy and the audience with “City of Blinding Lights.” Fitting since Bono once described it as “a song about innocence, naivety.” Not surprisingly, it worked well, with the slow building start providing the opportunity for him to sell the setting to the audience and the crescendo providing the opportunity for the young boy, borrowing Bono’s trademark sunglasses, to enjoy his luck parading around the stage with the rock star. Additional heart pumping songs, “Vertigo” and “I'll Go Crazy If I Don't Go Crazy Tonight” bridged the gap to “Sunday Bloody Sunday,” a staple of U2 concerts featuring a militaristic drumbeat, harsh guitar rifts, and melodic harmonies. The anthem helped catapult U2 from an 80’s college band to international stardom. Originally written to describe the anguish the band felt from The Troubles in Northern Ireland, the song has since been adapted to protest more recent acts of terrorism and oppression including September 11th, the 2002 Bali Bombings, and most recently the Iranian election protests. During the song, Bono invited a Persian-looking man to help him wave the American flag on stage. Of course, this particular man happened to be wearing a turban, meaning that he was most likely a Sikh, and therefore most likely Indian not Iranian, but who knows. Besides, with the images of the Sea of Green and Persian script scrolling on the screen, just being some shade of brown was close enough for most of the audience to get the point.

After shouting “No more” a dozen or more times, the tempo slowed substantially for “MLK” and as the intro to the next song, “Walk On,” began, Bono took the opportunity to relate to the audience another political story, that of Burmese dissident Aung San Suu Kyi, who after being elected prime minister in 1990, was imprisoned by the military junta. At this point, many in the audience donned the paper masks of Suu Kyi that were distributed prior to the show. While eerie, it was a powerful message of solidarity, further promoted by a legion of Amnesty International volunteers who marched across the outer platform.

After finishing the inspiring and emotional anthem, U2 left the stage briefly while a freedom rally cry from Desmond Tutu played on the video screen, encouraging the good people of the world to act as one in the face of tyranny and subjugation. U2 returned to the stage for their rendition of “One” in furtherance of the idea of promoting human rights and social justice, with subtle hints to Bono's charitable organization, the ONE Campaign, dropped in the visual imagery of the performance.

Despite all the political and human rights messages inserted into this point of the show, none of it seemed over the top or out of place, as it was seamlessly incorporated into the performance. Just being there made me feel like the single act of attending a rock concert was a force for good and change in the world. Much of this is due to Bono’s intense passion for these causes, making it his mission to have lasting impact on the world, inspiring the audience, regardless of political affiliation, that our generation can bring an end to poverty and oppression and peacefully bring democracy to those who desire freedom. I think that even the most hardened cynics in the audience couldn’t help but feel inspired. Perhaps I should have been more liberal with my email address while waiting in line.

The political messages subdued for the final few songs as The Edge’s familiar repeating guitar arpeggio took shape in the intro of “Where the Streets Have No Name.” While it was a song that I had always loved, I had never been able to fully appreciate the throbbing bass, intentionally cracking vocals, and climactic melody until seeing it live, dancing and jumping around with the rest of the audience. I only had a moment to catch my breath during a brief encore break and “Ultra Violet (Light My Way)” before the one of the most familiar bass lines in music (for me at least) took shape for a emotional performance of “With or Without You.” A brilliantly lit microphone descended from the rafters of the stage and created a glowing red orb of light into which Bono sang. His jacket lit up equally as he grabbed the dangling mike and swung from side to side. It was only during this final crescendo when Bono lost his grip of the microphone long enough to miss a chorus of the song that I decided to get lost in the music pick up the slack for him, as did much of the rest of the audience, as we belted out the words and swayed side to side. I could tell there was a broad smile on my face that had been there for quite some time. Again, the tempo slowed as I caught my breath and the night ended with “Moment of Surrender.”

Though my expectations were high for my first U2 concert, they were all met or exceeded. My seats were great, I was surrounded by old friends and new camaraderie, the sound was intense, and the set list was perfectly crafted. It was obvious as to why U2 has been considered one of the world’s premier acts for the past two decades. Mike remarked to me on the way out as roadies were already tearing down the stage around us how effortless U2 made the performance seem, as holding the attention of almost 100,000 for two hours had now become second nature for them. And while I might have now been able to cross U2 of my bucket list, it only increased my desire to see them again in the future and cemented my appreciation for their talent.

Bonnaroo Music Festival, Great Stage Park, Manchester, Tennessee

Wednesday: “Na man, I’m good to keep driving” – Tim Willis

On Wednesday, June 10, 2009, I began my second trip to the Bonnaroo Arts and Music Festival in Manchester, Tennessee, something I had been trying to do every year since I was first there in 2003. I was excited to finally be able to make the trek again and end my six year hiatus. Each year, I wanted to go, it just seemed that there was always something keeping me. We left Wednesday night from my place around 8pm. In the car was Jeff Schiz, Tim Willis, and myself. I had exchanged cars with my mom, so we were able to drive down in the comfort and space of a minivan. As an homage to Ben Summers, I took a “lunny-star” as soon as I got in the car so that I could wake up towards the tail end and take over driving in the wee hours of the morning when my companions were exhausted. However, at some point, Tim took over driving and every time that I woke up and asked if he wanted me to take over, he said he was fine, so I just kept sleeping. Basically, I missed the entire trip down.

Thursday: “I can’t believe its only Thursday” – Jeff Sangillo

We rolled into Manchester pretty early in the morning, probably around 6am or so. We were planning to stop for supplies at the local Wal-Mart, but traffic cops were only allowing local traffic off at the exit required, which really irritated Schiz, “how can they do that? This is America!” he exclaimed. Fortunately, we found a way around the roadblock and to the Wal-Mart, where hundreds of hippies had gathered. Hippies: you just can’t stop them from doing whatever they feel like doing. After getting our supplies, Schiz promptly made friends with a vangabond named Hopper, who while approximately our age and from seemingly a seemingly similar middle class suburban background, had spent way too much time in the music festival scene enjoying an abundance of the mind altering substances. Hopper had his own car and a few traveling companions, but did not yet have a ticket, or I’m guessing the money to pay for said ticket, but was confident that he would be attending Bonnaroo. We hung out with Hopper for a bit before piling back into the car to enter the venue. We all agreed that it’d be great if we could run into him again before the festival’s end.

Unlike my previous trip to Bonnaroo, for which I sat in traffic overnight, we were able to make it into the venue in less than an hour, including when security took a brief hiatus to let an intense thunderstorm pass. Just after passing through security and beginning the drive to our site, who do we see walking along the muddy road? None other than Hopper. Apparently, he had just casually walked through security in the camping area under the guise of carrying trash bags or something. We picked him up and brought him with us to our site. We made it to our campsite, which was ideally located close to the venue, and set up camp, and made friends with our neighbors. Then the drinking began.

We pregamed and cooked out for several hours before heading into the venue around 5pm ready to start the festival. A security checkpoint prevents concertgoers from entering with weapons, booze, food, etc each time you enter “Centerloo,” where all the concerts are. However, Schiz works for a bottled water company and was able to get empty bottles of water and caps that still contained the bottom seal. These caps can be placed on by hand. So instead of having to buy booze inside, we just filled a large water bottle up with vodka, so that we could easily sneak in alcohol. Filling the bottle up with bottom shelf liquor each day, we joked that we spent more on the mixers than we did on actual alcohol, genius!

Thursday ended up being my heavy drinking day. I went after that bottle and ended up getting really drunk. I vividly remember seeing Albert Cross, remember most of White Rabbits, remember heading to Portugal the Man, but then completely blacked out for a while. Fortunately, I sobered up enough to remember most of the Passion Pit show, the only bad I really wanted to see on Thursday. While the show was great, I do wish I could remember it a little more clearly. Though I do remember commenting many times that I was amazing that it was only Thursday and we still had 3 more days.

Tim was also pretty drunk, and combined with no sleeping the previous night, was probably in worse shape than I. However, he wisely decided that he should just go back to the tent and pass out, instead of continuing the night. It also started pouring rain that evening, though I fortunately had my rain gear. By the time that we returned to camp, it was pouring rain. I had left most of my equipment in the car (sleeping bag, pillow), except for my aerobed. Of course, being too inebriated to figure out how to blow up my aerobed, I decided that once the rain died down, I would just go to the car and get my back up thermarest and other sleeping items. I promptly fell asleep and woke up in the morning flat on my back without a pillow, sleeping bag, or pad. As far as I remember, that never happened to me while camping before, I hope it never happens again.

Friday: “Would you like some vodka?” – Jeff Schiz

I woke up surprisingly comfortably on Friday morning and didn’t really even have much of a hangover, though I lacked any desire to drink for quite a while. We lounged around the campsite: cooking, eating, and just chilling before heading into the venue for another day. Even though it was sunny and hot as hell, I wanted to see as many acts as I could, so we got a pretty early start on the day and were in Centerloo in time to catch the beginning of the day’s act at noon. The security lines were so long that the guards ended up just nixing the whole thing and decided to let everyone who had a wristband in, negating our need for the vodka in waterbottle idea. This would actually happen to us everyday from there on out.

We saw a lot of bands during the day on Friday including:
· Gomez – English indie rock
· Vieux Farka Touré – Son of renowned Malian blues guitarist Ali Farka Touré
· Animal Collective – Baltimore-based experimental DJs
· Béla Fleck – banjo virtuoso and arguably the singularly most talented musician at Bonnaroo
· Grizzly Bear – Indie/blues rock
· Santigold – black R&B/rocker girl.

By the end of the afternoon, we were all hot, dirty, and sweaty. In the middle of Centerloo was a large mushroom-shaped fountain that dumped water on anyone standing below. Each day, we would make sure to make sure to stop by the fountain to douse ourselves with water to clean off and cool off. Standing underneath the refreshing water was always a highlight of the day for me. And walking around for the next hour with cool water dripping off me in the heat of the afternoon made the days much more bearable.

By late afternoon, we headed over to What Stage to watch R&B legend Al Green. Let me take a moment to explain that there are five main stages at Bonnaroo: What Stage, Which Stage, This Tent, That Tent, and The Other Tent. Yes, it was as confusing going from stage to stage as it sounds. Anyway, Al Green was amazing, soulfully belting out all his hits like "Let's Stay Together" and "Lay It Down," still getting his voice into those impressive upper registers and giving out roses to fans along the way. It was the same stage the I saw another soul icon, James Brown, perform 6 years ago. I sipped a Magic Hat and relived that previous night while equally enjoying the current one.

After Al Green, we caught a little bit of TV on the Radio on Which Stage before heading back over to the What Stage for the Beastie Boys. The sun had gone down and it was a blast being reminded of junior high days while jumping up and down listening to Mike D, MCA, and Ad-Rock lay down rhymes over Mix Master Mike’s familiar beats. Special guest Nas also came out for a song or two.

After Beasties was Phish, the headliners of the night and one of the primary reasons that I committed to going to Bonnaroo this year. The crowd was amped beyond belief and glow sticks exploded into the air when they began their set with Chalk Dust Torture. If you’ve never been to a Phish show, you’ve never been privy to seeing the glow stick wars that erupt. Phans bring in glow sticks by the thousands and send them flying through the air, sometimes one at a time, other times as collected bundles. Frequently, they are thrown in time with the music, and the build up of a song culminates with a crescendo of glow sticks. Its quite a site to be jamming out to Phish.

Unlike a normal Phish show, that contains some Phan favorites mixed in with less popular songs, the next 3 hours was like a Phish greatest hits show. Schiz and I kept waiting for the set break, but it never came, just a solid 3 hours of music with no more than five minutes of rest over a set that included: Divided Sky, Possum, Down With Disease, Stash, Golgi Appartus, Wolfman's Brother, Free, Wading In The Velvet Sea, Harry Hood, Highway To Hell, and 2001. They then closed with Wilson sandwiched between You Enjoy Myself. Amazing!!! Just that one night of Phish alone was worth the trip.

After Phish I was excited but exhausted. I wanted to head over to check out at least some of Girl Talk, a popular mash up artist. Unfortunately, I didn’t want to stay very long, opting to just go back to camp and sleep.

Saturday: “Ticket to Bonnaroo: $250. Food, water, beer: $100. Being able to take a shit will jammin’ to live music: Priceless” – written inside portable toilet located at the back of What Stage

The beginning off Saturday was just like Friday, though I did wake up in a sleeping bag…well sort of in a sleeping bag, and completely in a pool of sweat. It is June in Tennessee after all.

We headed to Centeroo a bit earlier than we did the previous day. It was still a quarter of noon, but Schiz wanted to get inside by noon because the surprise act of the weekend, Jimmy Buffett, was scheduled to start at noon. As we neared the venue, I noticed that the song playing over the venue’s loudspeakers was “Why Don’t We Get Drunk,” a Buffett classic. Surely, they were just playing a recording of the song in anticipation of the real deal. Once again, the security guards gave up on patting down the long lines of people and just let us go straight through so as the large crowd did not have the chance to get unruly. With braceleted hands raised anyway, it became customary for each patron to reward the guards with high fives for allowing us through untouched.

As we neared Which Stage, where Buffett was playing, we realized that it was in fact Jimmy himself. Not only was he the surprise guest at Bonnaroo, who agreed to play at the last minute in the middle of the afternoon, most likely for little to no money, he went on early! Clearly, this is a man who just loves playing music. Buffett wasn’t even initially listed as an act, but rather what began as a performance by Ilo and the Coral Reefer All-Stars (who he frequently collaborates with) turned into half of a full-on Jimmy Buffett performance, with the head Parrothead delivering "Margaritaville," "Fins," "A Pirate Looks at 40" and more to a noontime crowd on Saturday. Schiz was particularly impressed with Jimmy’s performance and happily started in on our bottle of booze to celebrate and get the day started properly.

The day continued as the previous one, hopping from show to show. However, learning a valuable lesson from the previous day and plotting out my day and evening, I decided that it was imperative that I take it a little easier than I did the previous day, sitting when possible and avoiding the sun when possible. There were several bands playing late night sets on Saturday night that I not only wanted to see, but have plenty of energy for. So I figured it was best to only lazily make my way to some of the earlier acts. Some of these earlier acts included:
· Cherryholmes – A family bluegrass troupe
· Allen Toussaint – Influential figures in New Orleans R&B scene in the 60’s and 70’s
· Rodrigo y Gabriella – A pair of thrash metal influenced Mexican acoustic guitarists who are both able to move their hands faster than I thought was humanly possible
· Raphael Saadiq – Soul singer that was a highlight of the festival for Tim
· Gov’t Mule – A jam band lead by front man Warren Haynes, who is a member of 75% of all jam bands currently operating in America, who in addition to his own talented song writing shared with us amazing renditions of several notable covers including the Beatles’ "Helter Skelter," Radiohead's "Creep," and U2's "One"
· Mars Volta – A rock band that I’ve been struggling to classify into a single genre for almost a year now, though all I know is that they rock hard
· Decemberists – Indie rockers who I was happy to catch a few songs of, even if just to cross off my bucket list.

The headliner for the evening was the Boss himself, Bruce Springsteen. As I’ve heard is typical for him, he and the rest of the E Street Band rocked hard for nearly 3 hours. Unlike Phish the previous evening, I didn’t really think that Bruce did anything special for his Bonnaroo performance, but we were fine with this considering that I know that every show he puts on is equally amazing. We were treated to many of his biggest hits like “Born to Run” and “Badlands,” some of his minor or newer hits like “The River” and “Radio Nowhere” and some of his more obscure songs like “Growing Up,” a song which was always a personal favorite of mine. Since it was Bruce Springsteen, I felt like it was a “drinking” concert, so towards the end of the show, I was trying to resist calls from nature in favor of maintaining the amazing spot that I had secured fairly close to the stage. I finally relinquished close to the end of the show and headed to the loo.

Instead of battling my way back to the stage, I decided to head to the next act, Nine Inch Nails, a industrial rock band, that would be starting their set soon. I only left early so as to stay with Chris, a friend of Schiz’s who we had met up with, who wanted to get up close for the next show. I was a little reluctant to leave Bruce and not all that enthused about being close to such an intense act like NIN, but didn’t want to be standing by myself at the show. With little effort we were able to get within thirty feet of the stage. While waiting for the NIN to come out, I was kicking myself for leaving Bruce early as I heard him finish up his encore with “Glory Days.”

It was a good bit after one in the morning when Trent Reznor and Nine Inch Nails began their act, but I was closer to the stage than I had been for any show yet at the festival. NIN was also by far the “hardest” music that I had seen there yet, and the crowd was ready to mosh. Even with all the concerts I had been to, I had never really been in a mosh pit before and not really sure it was something that I wanted to be a part of, but it was Bonnaroo and I was up close, so there was no way that I was giving up any ground. It turned out being one of the highlights of my weekend, even though I lost Chris within the first few minutes.

In the mosh pit, the entire crowd began pushing each other and swaying to the music. However, it wasn’t violent pushing meant to harm anyone, rather almost a dance that everyone participated in to show their support for the band. While every individual aggressively pushed up against his fellow concertgoers, it was always done in an respectful manner. There were never any clenched fists or jerking pushes, just each man (and several women) pushing up against each other, jockeying for a position slightly closer to the stage. I was wearing my backpack the entire time, but not once did someone grab it to try to throw me out of the way. On the rare occasion that someone fell over, there was no worry of being trampled by the masses, as a dozen feet in the nearby vicinity to the fallen stopped moving and a dozen hands reached down to pick the person back up as soon as possible. It was unlike anything that I had ever really experienced, but right in line with the sharing and giving nature that the Bonnaroo festival and its participants promote. I had only planned on staying for part of the show in order to catch another late night act, but judging by the ear-to-ear grin I knew was spread across my face, I knew that I had to stay for the entire set.

Rhythmically jumping, swaying, pushing, and struggling with the crowd was fun and exhausting. Tightly packed in the with crowd, I was soon soaked in sweat. I would tire myself out, feverishly working my way toward the stage, then relax as others did the same and pushed me out of the way. When the feeling of battery acid pumping through my legs dissipated, the process would start all over again. At one point, I was able to reach out and touch the front railing, though the front row of the crowd close enough to grip it made sure not to give up any more ground. Lead singer Trent Reznor left the stage and entered the top of the crowd right were I had been just a song before.

I’m only a casual Nine Inch Nails fan, but was able to hear most of the songs I wanted to hear from the band’s repetoir, and seeing them so close made me appreciate them all that much more. What made the show particularly interesting was Reznor’s announcement that it would be the band’s last US show ever, which was news to me. I was ecstatic that I got to experience it.

The show ended and my heart rate retuned to its normal pace as I walked over MGMT, an indie electronic band that I had also wanted to see. I was a little bummed that I had to give up seeing their set in favor of NIN, but this is the kind of thing that sometimes happens when there are lots of bands to see but not much time. Fortunately, I was able to catch the last few songs, including one of their biggest hits, “Kids.” Fortunately, MGMT is playing All Points West, a festival latter in the summer that I also hope to attend. Missing the majority of their set at Bonnaroo will provide me more incentive to make it to their next gig.

I wandered back to our campsite, my shirt still stilly sweaty and my adrenaline still pumping, to find Tim fast asleep in the tent and Schiz sloppily chatting/dozing with our camp neighbors in one of their lawn chairs. I wasn’t far behind him in falling fast asleep as we crawled into our tent.

Sunday - "Anybody ready for some motherfuckin' Phish?" - Snoop Dogg

Sunday was our final day at Bonnaroo. Though there weren’t as many acts playing on Sunday as the previous days, particularly ones that excited me, it was still going to be a full day of music for the three of us. What’s always unfortunate about the last day though is that you’re already thinking about going home. As much fun as I was having, my body was exhausted and I was already thinking about the long drive home, the shower I would take immediately upon entering my apartment, and the comfortable bed in my room which is strategically placed right below an air conditioner vent. Don’t get me wrong though, it was still a full day of shows and I was going to enjoy them to their fullest: tired, filthy, or otherwise.

We packed up our campsite so that we could leave quickly at the end of the day, but due to the weak line up in the early part of the day, we headed into the venue a little later than normal. It appears that the rest of the festival was thinking the same think, and we were once again faced with crowds at the entrance that overwhelmed security. Despite it being the final day, we were still able to see several excellent shows including:
· Citizen Cope – alternative, bluesy, folksy singer
· Erykah Badu – The First Lady of Neo-Soul
· Coheed & Cambria – hard rock I’m not quite sure what

The early evening show was Snoop Dogg, who while in my opinion, isn’t a particularly talented or interesting performer, has just established himself as such a cultural icon, that being in his presence is fun in and of its self. Snoop has also written or participated in many hit tracks which are fun to join him in a sing along.

To close off the festival was a repeat of Friday’s headliners, Phish. While it wasn’t the 3 hour powerhouse of music we say the previous night, it was still an incredible night. That evening, Phish played their much more traditional 2 set evening, though it was still probably about 3 hours in total overall. We heard additional Phan favorites like AC/DC Bag, NICU (a personal favorite of mine), Bathtub Gin, Character Zero, Run Like an Antelope, and Farmhouse, while glow stick once again flew through the air. However, towards the end of the first set, we were treated to a special treat. Phish stopped the music to introduce a special guest for the evening, and the superpowers of the weekend collided as Bruce Springsteen joined Phish on stage for surprise renditions of several songs featuring Bruce on vocals including "Mustang Sally" "Bobby Jean" and, that’s right you guessed it, "Glory Days," the song that I had missed the previous night. It was already the perfect end to a perfect weekend and that was only the end of the first set! As amazing as the E Street Band is backing up Springsteen, having Phish take their place was much more special. I remarked to Schiz that this event has never happened before and would probably never happen again. In seeing Phish back up Bruce Springsteen, we witnessed something that would probably only happen that once in history. Spectacular!

We finished up our evening with Phish and our time at Bonnaroo and headed back to the campsite. An exhausted Tim had already headed back to our packed up campsite. We were happy to find the most of the tents in the area put away and many of the cars gone, making it easy for us to navigate out of the site, away from Bonnaroo, onto the highway, and towards home. I started the drive a little after 1am local time with the intention of driving as far as possible before having to pull over to sleep.

The miles rolled by one after another as I tried to stay awake with coffee, air conditioning, and music. However, we were only a couple hours down the road when I realized that it was time to either pull off the road or crash into a ditch. I soon found a large, unoccupied motel parking lot off an exit. I locked the doors and closed my eyes.

Monday – “I can’t wait to take a shower” – All

The dawn was just breaking when Schiz woke up and realized that we had stopped driving. Having woken up sufficiently, he volunteered to take over the driving. I crawled in back and passed out. When I woke again, Schiz was back to sleeping in the passenger seat and Tim had taken over, though we were still a good several hours away from home. The hours and miles rolled by as we listened to talk radio and chatted. Eventually, we made it back to my apartment and I made it into the shower.