Ted DiBiase knows a winner when he sees one. That’s how he earned the nickname “The Million Dollar Man” when those Cash Money clowns were still learning to ice their first teeth. And rest assured, Teddy B. would’ve inevitably proclaimed Day 3 of Outside Lands, the winner of the match, even if he would’ve declared it from inside… Continue reading »
The crowd was older and tamer yesterday. No wholesale destruction of chain link fences, no claustrophobic clusterfucks trying to get across the endless expanse of festival ground, no scofflaws streaming into the VIP section to taunt the fools that squandered $700 a ticket for nicer bathrooms and a slightly more refined environment in which to purchase… Continue reading »
Aug
23
Don’t expect much. No one with an iota of common sense would attend a music festival after being struck by the snarling combination of African Sleeping Sickness/Mono/Ricketts/Gout/Scurvy that waylaid me for a full two weeks of misery and and continues to leave my left leg swollen and tubby as though it belonged to William Howard Taft. After… Continue reading »
By the third day, we were knocked out, loaded. Hungover, weary, wandering the festival grounds like lethargic lemmings, queuing in lines off instinct, jostled, aggravated and in no mood for the weird Aramaic gibberish spouted by the kid seeing God underneath the Tesla Coil. Three days of this is too much to handle, unless you’re… Continue reading »
I ran into a guy I knew from high school standing in line for the restrooms in the VIP area. I hadn’t seen him in a decade but was about four glasses of $7 wine deep and feeling good. No reason not to be friendly, after all, I no longer harbored a grudge from that… Continue reading »
I hate lines. They’re somewhere in the lower rungs of my own personal inferno along with club kids in fedoras, the Los Angeles Dodgers and the abstract concept of valet parking. Unfortunately, entering Coachella brings me into contact with three of those four food groups as quite often, while waiting in the Bataan Death march-like… Continue reading »
May
04
Pharoahe Monch-Coachella Stage (1:30-2:15) I was depressed when I found out that Pharoahe Monch, a 13 year veteran of the rap world was slotted to play the main stage at 1:30 smack dab in the middle of the searing desert heat, a time typically given to rookies playing their first festival ever, and certainly not… Continue reading »
May
03
Of Montreal-Outdoor Theater (4:55-5:45) width=”425″>But after watching her live show (and watching her stretch the phrase “Hello Coachella” into 34 syllables, I’ve concluded that the ever-evolving Bjork is music’s “Rain Man.” She probably can’t tie her Icelandic Walrus galoshes, but she’s clearly tapped into a higher musical plane than the rest of us. Call her… Continue reading »
May
01
Sadly, Vigo the Carpathian was not there. But he may have been the only celebrity not sweltering in the desert this weekend mingling gleefully with the Los Angeles cluberati: 27 year-old trust funders, scattering shirt-less from bar to bar, tatted up and bandanna’d, scheming on 18-year old girls giggling noxiously in Marc Jacobs sun-dresses. This… Continue reading »
It’s that time of year again. Time for the only “LA” music festival in the world. A time when the two concert-a-year crowd (three if Wolfmother comes to town) rents lavish houses in the desert, throws killer parties and dangles their VIP passes like they were Wayne and Garth backstage at an Alice Cooper concert.… Continue reading »
Excellent Adventures
Bogus Journeys
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Listening
Jeff Weiss
Sach O
Douglas Martin
Aaron Matthews
Abe Beame
Evan Nabavian
Tosten Burks
Matt Shea
Jonah Bromwich
Reading
Jeff Weiss
Sach O
Douglas Martin
Tosten Burks
Aaron Matthews
Abe Beame
Jonah Bromwich
Watching
Jeff Weiss
Sach O
Douglas Martin
Tosten Burks
Aaron Matthews
Evan Nabavian
Jonah Bromwich
Inner Sanctum
Miscellaneous Apostles
Local Natives
Understanding Media
The Sporting Life
2011
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Miscellaneous
