PART I: Arrival and Thursday
Nothing in this lifetime, for good or ill, compares to the experience of the Bonnaroo Music & Arts Festival. This is not meant to be hyperbole or swagger, intended to shame anyone uncool enough not to attend. Rather, it's a simple fact that must be stated in order for anyone to even approach understanding this, the grand master of American festivals.
2008 couldn't keep a good thing down. Sure there've been rising gas prices, a pseudo-recession, and the impending headache of another unsatisfying Presidential election. The effect was felt, as roughly 65,000 tickets were sold, whereas the last two years sold out at 80K. All the same, the party raged. And I was there. And this is my story.
What follows is an accurate account— the minutes, if you will— of my Bonnaroo 2008. I've attempted to be as accurate as possible, but some times and events are approximate.
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Wednesday, 6/11, 12:00pm - Arrive at Matt's house. Since Jo was unable to come along, for the first time in five years I was doing Bonnaroo solo. My safety net was the utterly fantastic community that makes up the unofficial Bonnaroo message board, Inforoo™. In addition camping with other friendly board members in an annexed section of the "tent-only" camping area dubbed Camp Inforoo, a good friend of mine on the site, Andrew, put me in touch with Matt, one of his traveling companions, who not only welcomed me to stuff myself into his car, but also turned out to live not 10 minutes from us. Jo dropped me off and Matt's house, and he and his friend Joe squeezed into Joe's Acura and took off.
4:50 - Arrive in Roanoke. The plan was of course complicated: my ride's car would meet the other cars in their camping group in Roanoke after they collectively got off work and left Richmond, which would be around 11pm. Why, then, did we leave Baltimore at noon in order to wait for the other cars for six hours? While I didn't wholeheartedly approve of the idea (I was already desperately missing my wife and baby), there were two good reasons. One was that Matt grew up in Roanoke, and was looking forward to spending some quality time in his beloved city and showing us all the highlights. The other reason is painfully obvious to anyone who has ever experienced the Jackson Pollack painting that is Baltimore-DC-Richmond-area rush hour traffic.
5:00 - Grab food and a couple beers at a local pub. Afterward we walked around the heart of the city, and I was quickly won over by its unselfconscious integration of Southern hospitality, small-city charm, and metropolitan bohemianism. Not a bad place to live.
6:30 - Check out the Mill Mountain Star. Matt didn't know the story behind this Roanoke landmark, but it was still cool to check out. Apparently it is the largest man-made star... and all the people said, "whoop-de-doo". Acutally, there is a webcam in the star, and I called Jo so she could see me with the Roanoke city skyline.
8:00 - Meet up with Matt's friend. I can't for the life of me remember his name, but he was a high school buddy. No he's a GI nurse at the local hospital, and he lives in a big old house with his runt St. Bernard, Satchel. He was one of those people who just seems to be perpetually interesting. He painted bold, abstract, subtly violent paintings of animals. He wanted to go to the local Wild Wings so he could play Big Buck Hunter. He was obsessed with that game— you know, in an ironic hipster sort of way—, and had an ongoing feud for top score with someone named Chaz.
On the way he told us how he accidentally filled his wiper fluid reservoir with degreaser. He demonstrated. A thick, soapy film covered the front of the car for the rest of the night.
Thursday, 12:15am - The group calls to meet up and go. Over an hour late. At this point we were all ready for bed, but were staring down a six-hour drive. We couldn't help but think that we could have left Baltimore at 6, miss most of the traffic, and make it in time. We put that out of our minds and went to the meeting point. There I finally go to meet Andrew, who was accurately described to me as a young-looking Tom Waits (this may have been a foreshadowing). I also met Jamie, another friend from Inforoo, fellow Camp Inforoo citizen, and someone with whom I spent a lot of the weekend. The four cars were off by 1 in the morning.
8:10 - Arrive at the dreaded line. This is the line of cars waiting to enter the festival grounds. When we hit it, we were still 13 miles from the entrance.
10:30 - Still waiting in line. The sun came out and it got hot. I fix myself a couple bowls of cereal. People stood in the grass by the highway. Some tossed Frisbees or relieved themselves. I got a tick on my leg.
11:00 - One of the cars in our group leaves. These two hippie kids in a Cavalier kept trying to set up a propane camping stove in the grass. They would set it up halfway only to see the line move and have to throw it all in the back of their car again. At one point, they simply peeled out and left. I walked up to Andrew's car and asked him what that was about, and he told me they were going to Wal-Mart to get a fork. A fork. After sitting in line for three hours. Well, they were somewhat vindicated
1:15pm - Jamie and I walk in. We finally reached the entrance road, it had been a hot five hours waiting, and even still there was at least another mile before we would actually reach the gates. Jamie asked if I'd like to just walk in with him from here, and I was more than happy just to be moving more than 2.6MPH. I grabbed a couple essentials for setting up camp and we made plans to meet up with the cars to get the rest of our stuff later.
1:25 - Jamie buys his ticket. Oh by the way, he didn't have one. That's actually a fairly common thing for kids to do down there, and you will see quite a number of slackers looking both to sell and to buy legit tickets last minute. This isn't scalping, usually just tying up loose ends after not planning well. Jamie, however, did guy his from scalpers, except he got the better deal. While the regular price for a Bonnaroo ticket exceeded $250 with fees, Jamie got his for $180 plus a ticket to a sold-out The Mars Volta show that he couldn't make anyway. With that in hand, we were rejuvenated for the carbon monoxide trek through the gates.
2:00 - Arrive at the gate. Walking in was absolutely the way to go, even with the impending threat of dehydration and sunstroke. With virtually no line and very little baggage that needed to be checked, we were stepping foot on the farm in a matter of minutes. But first, we were given the nifty, pocket-sized Bonnaroo festival guides and our bracelets, which were cloth this year as opposed to plastic. A definite improvement.
2:30 - Arrive at Camp Inforoo, settle in. It was strange and wondrous to meet at the Inforoosters I had come to know and appreciate. I set up my tent, then Jamie and I borrowed someone's cart to pick up the rest of our stuff.
4:00 - Chill time. At this point I think I was fighting off sunstroke, so I decided to stay in the shade of the canopy and drink lots of water rather than head right into Centeroo for the activities and music.
7:30 - Pack up and head to Centeroo. The first act I wanted to see of the weekend was playing at 11, and that was Battles. They were in fact number-one must-see, which was a shame, for, due to the scheduling, I knew it would be unnaturally crowded. First off, Thursday shows are always unnaturally crowded. This is because most everyone has arrived by then and looking to get into the Bonnaroo activities, so they will go see any act in whom they have even the slightest interest. Also, as people party and run themselves ragged, throughout the weekend they tend to make it to fewer shows. And while everyone is looking to go to a show, there are fewer to be found on Thursday night; the main stages are not yet open, only the three tents.
On top of all this, Battles' set time was sandwiched between two very hot indie bands that I knew would be a big draw. No matter how left-field and quirky Battles might be, any way you sliced it there would be a big crowd there. So that's why I left in time to squeeze into said big crowd at This Tent before the first "hot indie band" began.
8:30 - MGMT. Yes, it was crowded. I also was really not feeling the show. I knew I wouldn't, since I had seen them back in October when they opened for of Montreal. In my opinion these guys have a couple good tunes and some respectable psychedelic streaks in them, but overall are a rather bland indie pop band. I waited patiently for their sent to end and for a portion of the crowd to leave so I could inch ever closer to the stage for the real crown jewel of Thursday night. During the break I watched a young guy pass out (lack of water or oxygen, or some other more iniquitous substance), and his friends carry him out the thick of people and way. I hope he was alright.
10:00 - Battles. Oh, how you rocked. In a way, watching Battles perform reminded me of seeing Cut Chemist and DJ Shadow's "The Hard Sell" tour. Here are artists creating music awfully similar to what they've put on record, and yet it's exciting because of the sheer talent needed to successfully create it live. And since this was a rock quartet and not a couple DJs, they maintained greater control over the music and allowed it to breathe slightly, adding a few measures here and melodic embellishments there. They were a tight unit. And even with some technical problems they kept the grooves and the soundscapes on pace.
11:30 - Vampire Weekend. Here is a textbook definition of a Pitchfork hip indie band. They only released their debut album a few months ago, and now they are playing the prime timeslot for Thursday at Bonnaroo. However, I can only speak objectively about their hype so much, as I do really enjoy them. And live, well, they're pretty good. More so than Battles or anyone else I saw that weekend did these guys play just like on their album. However what made their set pleasing was simply how good it sounded. All parts were mixed perfectly, the tone of leader Ezra Koenig's guitar was crystal clear, the percussion was even. It also helped to have charming banter between old and new songs, mentioning transcendentalism and the fact that drummer Chris Tomson attended the inaugural Bonnaroo in 2002.
Friday, 1:05am - I'm reprimanded for my camera. I was wandering around Bonnaroo's iconic fountain, taking photos of the beautiful lighting, when a security staffer (not so much a guard, you see) approached me. "Hey," he began candidly, "I'm glad you're enjoying taking photos and stuff, but I just want to let you know that that camera isn't really allowed in here." I looked at the camera. Bonnaroo allows photography, but limits what kind of camera people can bring in. Their official stance is "professional camera", but that of course is ridiculously open to interpretation. What I had was a Nikon D70 digital SLR. It is a nice camera, but it's not what professionals would consider professional. Hell, the flash on it is broken. I need not even mention that I'm not a skilled photographer.
Anyway, I told him that it didn't really break any of the rules, at least to my understanding, and he said that he personally didn't have a problem but just wanted to warn me that if others saw it, I might get kicked out and would not be allowed back in with the camera. This was just Thursday, and I didn't want to take any chances, so I thanked him and stowed the camera in my backpack. To get my mind off the run-in, I decided to catch more music. I headed over to That Tent.
1:15 - Lez Zeppelin. In January the Internets were nearly choked by all the rumors of a Led Zeppelin tour, and many of those rumors included a headlining gig at Bonnaroo. As a play off this (which kind of backfired), the promoters booked the femme cover group Lez Zeppelin. Prior to Bonnaroo they had already achieved a reputation for scorching shows. At Bonnaroo, they proved it. The band was on fire, hurtling through fantastic versions of "Whole Lotta Love", "Good Times Bad Times" and "Kashmir". I was bowled over by their set. But what I enjoyed just as much was the audience. This crowd was so charged with the energy the band had put out, they just had to give it right back. The band was visibly overwhelmed by the amount of love and appreciation this whoopin'-and-stompin' crowd had for them, it was a triumph for them. This was not a crowd that just waited passively to be entertained, as if it was simply due to them. No, this was a crowd that had traveled long , far and hard to come here and their collective joy was amplified. It was such a powerful thing to witness, and I am proud to say that I have seen it many times at Bonnaroo. The people that attend this festival are music people, and they are generally good people. The audience at Lez Zeppelin was pouring out love for the band, but that was just a typical Bonnaroo audience.
1:50 - The Karaoke Bay. Not wanting to leave the excitement just yet, I continued to wander around Centeroo. I soon came across a new addition to the festivals roster of activities, an on-site karaoke bar (sponsored by StubHub, if that matters). The twist is that scheduled at various times throughout the weekend were three different live bands with large cover catalogs. Anyone who wanted to could sign up, then jump on stage and sing "Pour Some Sugar on Me" backed by live musicians. When I stopped by that night, it was a metal band going by the name Metalsome, Inc. They were presently tearing through a faithful version of Rage Against the Machine's "Bulls on Parade". The dude singing, whoever he was, totally rocked. He kept the rap lines clear and on point, but delivered with the necessary raw emotion and screaming. The crowd went wild for him. Next was some other dude, who had chosen to perform Living Colour's "Cult of Personality". He totally sucked. Flatting the high notes, not knowing when to come in, messing up the rhythm, jumbling lyrics, the guy had it all. I pitied the band as they tried to stay together while he floundered. It occurred to me that this is why people go to karaoke bars: to watch people who are awesome, and to watch people who are terrible. I decided that before the weekend was over I would get up on that stage at least once.
2:30 - Back to camp and to sleep. I said my prayers in my tent and looked at photos of Jo and Ruth that I had brought. That became my nightly ritual, a way to keep myself grounded after all the insanity that the days brought. I was dead tired, and I crashed hard, but experience told me that I wouldn't get more than six hours of sleep.
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Stay tuned for Part II: Friday
