May 9, 007
post-Stagecoach Music Festival
HOME, finally
For two days, I’ve been trying to think of good things to say. So far I’m having trouble recapping the post-Coachella country-music adventures at Stagecoach in a concise and entertaining fashion. Even though WILLIE NELSON IS THE CLOSEST THING TO GOD WALKING THIS EARTH. And this one guy in the Riders in the Sky can do the hambone on his face. That was awesome.
Continue reading
May 5, 007
Stagecoach Music Festival
Cyclecide DJ / merch booth
None of us saw much music at Coachella. We had no time — and if we did, when we got our nightly second winds, we traveled in a pack, mostly. Saturday night we went as zombies.
Continue reading
May 4, 007
(now it’s the) Stagecoach Music Festival
Artists’ Parking Lot
For whatever reason, the Johnny on the Spot guys did NOT clean the Portajohns in Artists’ Camping after Coachella was over, though they serviced everything else. On Tuesday, as we broke down the rides for our Wednesday gig in Riverside, Laird said he went to try to go pee and couldn’t even see the toilet seat for all the flies swarming on it.
Ever smelled a bank of Portajohns that’s been baking for five days in 104-degree heat?
Continue reading
we are delirious.
sitting by a pool at a hotel with air conditioning. For a minute. Going back into the hotness to break down the rides and take them to Riverside to set them up for a show at UCR tomorrow. Then re-breaking them down and re-taking them back to the polo fields in Indio to re-set them up for Stagecoach. Which judging by all the purple wristbands on the 60-year-old vendors and whatnot outside at the hotel pool right now …. it’s going to be Bizarro Coachella. OMG swimming is about to happen. Continue reading
April 28, 007
Coachella Valley Music Festival
ITEM! Ratgirl’s grandpa used to eat meat gravy on his chocolate cake. “It all goes to the same place anyway,” she said he’d say.
The gates have opened and the rubes have flooded in. Seventy thousand people rocked out here yesterday. Seventy thousand surprisingly well-behaved and not-totally-f’ed-up-on-drugs people. But maybe we don’t see the ugliest bits. They camp far, far away from us, in reportedly barbaric conditions. $5 bottle of water, anyone? Continue reading
