Wednesday, July 1, I was filled with an overwhelming sense of joy as I ran my errands for the day; it was one of those days that just make you feel happy that you're alive, aka., Summertime. Smiling was inevitable. My musical partner for the trip, Katie Baby (nickname came from guy hitting on me at an MU party, sophomore year, he kept saying, "Katie! Katie, Baby!" and naturally I gave him the cold shoulder because he called me, "Katie" but Ms. VH and I use it happily to call each other) arrived around 10:30pm and we hit the hay around 11pm, waking in the bird infested pre-dawn darkness at 2:33a. A quick trip to Jewel and a few head slaps at forgotten items later, we hit the road at 3:37a. On the road, via texts from other Rothbury friends, we find out that Roth opened the gates at 10pm Wednesday night, instead of the called for 8am Thursday time. Uncool. Uncool. But, hey, there's nothing we can do, but keep going how we're going.
One good thing about the gates opening early was the cut in waiting time - we were probably only in line for an hour, or so. I got a sinking feeling in my chest as we pulled into the campgrounds, surrounded by unfamiliar, far off seeming landmarks of highways and fence borders...
this looks miles away from last year, and to prove it,
a map of camping locations relative to the festival grounds (if you'll note the main stage is in the top left-hand corner, the entrance to music just below the center lake... our camping spot last year was just before the second cluster of trees off the main road, on the left of center... this year, this year we were camped in the lower right-hand corner, down about 12 tents from the barn, on the right - that's right, we walked).
.Though the distance was there, excitement was also in the air. As Katie and I were driving to our camping spot, a tall man was running down the line of cars, throwing up high fives; he stopped at our car to catch his breath, hooted and hollered, gave another high five, we laughed and I gave him an ice cold one. "Why not? It's 9:30. It's Rothbury. I already drank a case. What's one more!?" YEAH!! He took his brewski and continued down the line of cars, shouting exultations.
(Above: view grounds from roof of car, KVH. Note: music straight ahead and to the left) Our neighbors were Max and Susie from DC, and Elliot, Colby and Derek from Iowa. We were all smiles. The clouds were perfect nap coverage, so Katie and I took advantage of the cool afternoon and snuggled down; in the tiny tent I threatened farts as we were head-to-feet and my butt was in her face; I laughed, she smacked.
Going into the music Thursday night, we were ready with bubbles and glow in tow. The glow served a dual purpose as a whistle, and so Katie and I made a pact to blow twice if we ever got lost/separated; "Two whistles and we know it's us."
An older, balding gentleman, who was in front of us at the entrance, in a mini-van with his two 20something kids from NY decorated for the Dead, now walked down the dusty lane and said, with goggles on his head, "Don't be afraid to swim upstream."
Thursday night tunes: Toubab Krewe, reminded me of Funkadelic's
"Who Says...". Mosied through Keller Williams, who seems to be the DMB of festy jam tunes, also somehow he was integrated into other artist's acts. Baffling. The rocking baby picture was taken at Davy Knowles and the Back Door Slam, lead lead is from the Isle of Man and heavily influenced by Dire Straits. He also recorded a song with Frampton, it sounds very Frampton.
Lifesavas and the Mighty Underdogs DJin' MJ shit from the Quannum All Stars. Future Rock was synth happy and bass heavy, super trance! I really liked
Lotus. Katie and I opted for a seated side view, and watched the music and lights wash over the captivated crowd with guitar revelation. I really liked 'em. Really a lot. Agreed with the guy grinning giantly, one of the best sets of the fest. For sure. And spectacular lighting, too, but that can be said for a lot, if not all, of the shows. OH MY GOD! The Cool Kids, yes! Yes! They were so good. Ooh! And on the way from Future Rock to Lotus, I found a branch/walking stick that instantly became both a blessing and a burden, though it was the perfect dancing accessory to the
hip-hop happiness and stirring it up while shaking it down. I was very happy to finally see the Cold War Kids live, and they were fantastic! Notes while waiting for the CWK:
Want of sleep vs. Want of music.
Sleepaftermusic.
Patience is a virtue.
the jolly policemen
walk past the friendly
game of frisbee and
I say, Hello Rothbury.
The smoke and fog set the stage for the Cold War Kids to appear.
"Hey, Dan."
Dan. Dan. Dan. Dan.... Dan Dan Dan.
I think it wass -- zzzzz
all the Red Bull. (we need to ration the RB from now on)
Technical difficulties with DAN
Jesus walked across
the stage after
the first song,
(he's lingering in the wings in case something goes wrong)
Result of waiting through the mic check 1-2-3. CWK, can I do that? I'm doing that. I dug 'em. I like the Bluesy-rock vibe, and he sure is a phrase repeater, but there's just something about that voice. Wow. 3-4 Red Bulls each seemed a necessary thing as three hours of sleep, then driving and dancing takes toll on the mind, body and soul, all which Red Balls revitalizes! "I'm pissing neon green Minotaur."
At Disco Biscuits,
the stars twinkled and
spoke while the viking
sat laughing nearby.
Though we caught a lot, and I'm impressed with Katie's and my endurance through the weekend, I wish we would've caught the Glitch Mob, and gotten to Man Man's musical mess before the last song, but we did run. We also missed a bluegrass band Katie wanted to see on Saturday, but hey! only missin' 3 out of lots, that's great!
FRIDAY!! Yoga in the morning, and it feels soooo good!! Oh wow. I've never practiced outside before, or with so many people, and it was a perfect peace before the embarking on another day of dancing. There were pigeons and crows and eagles and bows and warriors, dogs both down and up, and even chanting. It was a wonderful way to welcome the day. Then I ran into a friend on the way back to the tent, and another two showed up on their way to the tunes - happiness!
After a nap, we ran the last bit of forest to Man Man. G. Love & Special Sauce was surprisingly honky tonk and white, as I was expecting something in the West Coast line of Mr. Nate Dog and the Warren to the G, funk. Martin Sexton, "coulda sworn it was Keller Williams, and think so as perhaps Martin thanked him later on... hmm, go home Keller, this ain't your show." Rebelution, great reggae. Broken Social Scene made me happy to relive pubescent years. The African sun shone through Femi Kuti & the Positive Force's set in joyous celebration preaching love and togetherness in their golden glow. Damien Marley and Nas were disappointing, to say the least. Soulive and I were in the same place physically, but I think I was napping with my eyes open. Strolled through and refilled water to Flogging Molly's Irish rock which was more pleasant in person I'm happy to report.
Nap and recoup. Glow up and penguin in. Unfortunately, we made it back in the beginning-to-middle of String Cheese's second set. The whole scene reminded me of being in the South Park episode when a festival comes to town and they have to drill through the amassing crowd of hippies and blast death metal so they disperse. You know that one? The jamming was non-stop and played out, basically the band sounded like it was dying onstage. SCI went so far as to have acrobatics, professional glow hoopin' and big balls bouncing through the crowds - with a red one big enough to crush a group of 14 people in one bounce - to distract us from their lame tunes.
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Boredom called for adventure and we frolicked into the forest to freak people out in my peguin-ness. I caused an incurable giggling episode and exit by a burly bearded bear of a man when Katie and I entered the tree tee pee. Some kid from Florida wanted to take a picture with me, and it all went downhill from there. I'm tell you, I was mobbed as this penguin. A penguin needs peace! And there I was, waddling around, and everyone calling me out on it; just trying to enjoy myself like anyone else and I get swarmed like Daisy Duck at Disney World.
Holding hand to flipper - or, wait, is it fin? - Katie and I skipped to Chromeo, who reminded us who they were in every song, though always differently to keep interest up. The lights were bright and the music, bopping. From behind their glowing legs came flashy sounds and shaking songs.
.
I loved to hate Girl Talk, a lot. I'm pretty certain I love it right now. Though the mixes and blends are obscene and outrageous in terms of pairing choices, everything fits so seamlessly like it was always meant to be. So much fun, Greg Gillis truly knows how to make a party, even though he does dance like Igor, he composes like a mad scientist, bending and lurching between his computer turn table system and exciting the crowd by hop-hop-hoppin' around. The screen behind him often flashed through the otherwise dark night, "I AM NOT A DJ (GIRL TALK)" and other things Club Kids love. A penguin went on stage and had it not been the end of the set, I woulda run for it and embraced it in a loving penguin hug - it was a goal to meet the penguin while in penguin (I saw him the next day, I was not in penguin, a greeting seemed not appropriate. Later, I was informed there was also another girl penguin, and overheard people saying, "There's so many penguins this year.") It was chilly. STS9 sounded crisp.
only because the fireworks reminded me, "...they danced down the street like dingledoodies, and I shambled after as I've been doing all my life after the people who interest me, because the only ones for me are the mad ones, the ones mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes, 'Awww!'"
.
Another day started with yoga. Nap, then inside.
FREE ICE CREAM!! from Ben & Jerry's. Yum! We went to Wendy Darling because we told the band we would the night before when we met them waiting for SCI to be done sucking. They were great, sounded very good with potential to make it main stream and seeming well on their way. Although I'd like to hear a little more variety in the topic of songs as most, if not all, were about broken hearts over a failed relationship/lost love, "Oh, it started out so nice, and then it ended..." womp, womp, womp. Lady singer's super talented though, as is rest of the band. Kudos to you, WD. Abbrv.s, I know!
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Walked through country-inspired Son Volt on the way to Hill Country Review, bluegrass that sometimes plays with North Mississippi All Stars, and that's who we were wishing they were. Jackie Greene was a good lookin' fellow who played the guitar, harmonica and sang in a slightly rough-around-the-edges twang. Just a country bumpkin playing on his porch, in overalls and a straw hat, inviting Phil Lesh over for a sesh.
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Zappa Plays Zappa was sick rockin'. 110%. Singer in plaid did amazing interpretive-choreographed dance that he stole from my repertoire! Seemingly. Saw a bit of the Black Crowes, wondering what Chris Robinson saw in Kate Hudson. Zing. (kidding)
The Dead played that night, and my. Wow. Well, that was an experience. Awesome and terrifying as there were moments the music felt like it was going to collapse around me. More pictures of the penguin during moments of high anxiety make me curious as to how they turned out... the naked, hopping, spinning hippies made me smile, but they weren't always in view as after half an hour or so their spinning spread a wider radius. There were two or three little hippie boys with their families on a blanket off to the right, in front of us, and one of the little boys wasn't enjoying the show at the same time I wasn't enjoying the show and we were both sitting down, but he had a blanket, and all I had was my penguin costume because we were tired of carrying that stinkin' blanket, so I hugged my knees and laughed as the moon rose through the trees and the sky painted itself from mauve to black. Thoughts of prioritizing penguins, reaching pure penguin potential and worries over origins and habitats were interrupted by one of the little hippies who wanted to know about Katie's and my glow laterns. As he quizzed Katie on the glow, the ends of his long golden hair flew in the fading sunlight, his lil pot belly poked out of his open plaid shirt and he titled his head inquisitively. He informed us that he did not, in fact, like it when glow sticks were thrown in the air in celebration because it was littering. Then he started going off on about how it'd be neat to ride in a balloon packed with so much helium that it'll fly up to outerspace and float around for a while... that's littering, too, kid, and a surefire way to get yourself lost in space, maybe you shouldn't eat so much acid next time. We made fun of his imagination as Katie and I watched his friends try to reproduce our glow latern by his instructions. We danced through the crowd for the rest of the Dead's set.
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Pretty Lights was indeed that (there were swirling balls of light everywhere). And the fireworks were incredible!! Spectacular, unbelievable!! I liked how the common crowd response was that of clapping, cheering and guffaws instead the boring and polite "ooh"s and "aah"s one would hear at the local baseball field's display. With their luring lights we stayed and swayed past a girl who shouted with her glazed eyes, "I love you! Can we take a picture?" (making me feel even more like a theme park mascot) to MSTRKRFT, who played their house music loud and proud and remixed shit up, too; they did a whole spiel on how house is the universal music and how when they play it's "our house" and we're all house. It was a decent fun dancin' show until then end when the speakers finally crackled and fizzed out after a song's length slow death, so that kinda ruined the whole beginning and middle greatness with the shit-tastic end.
Exhausted, Katie and I passed through STS9's PA set beginning and EOTO's dancing, thumping light show. Picture of a man walking down the lane, but on the wrong side so it looks like a cyclopes, ooooh!
SUNDAY!! chillin' [out max and relaxin' all cool]
Also, is it just me or does Mr. Hughes bear a slight resemblance to the dearly departed, Mr. Mitch Hedberg? Probably just the sunglasses, shaggy hair and my overexposure to the sun. Or, they could be brothers.
