Breaking Down Bonnaroo 2010
It is not the summer of 69. The flower power generation is long gone and in its place decades later come hybrid yuppies, high rises and lots of debt. 2010 Is a time when North America is slowly coming out of the recession that hit because a small amount of people were extremely greedy and mega douche bags. . Born of that recession has come the realization that money doesn't mean happiness and family does really matter. The social and moral makeup of North America is leaning from right to center, with a focus on reclaiming our souls. We all know work is important and being accountable is now not only mandatory but also essential to sustaining our communities. In addition to that, we are looking for a new center. A place in our hearts, minds and souls that can connect with each other living in the same moral field. We are looking for it in many ways; our consumer decisions, our environmental impact, sharing our wealth and most importantly, our music. Music is the soundtrack of our lives, often mirroring current shifts in lifestyle and points of view and sometimes creating awareness about issues that a fresh perspective. This connection with music couldn't be more apparent right now with artists such as Interpol, Rise Against, MIA and even Shakira standing up for what they believe in. Of all the worldwide festivals that holistically encapsulate that DIY shift from music to mosh pit, Bonnaroo hits a homerun. The following is an attempt to describe the woven tapestry including a rainbow of colors including Woodstock, Glastonbury, Lollapolloza, DEMF and a top stick of you local mall. Myself, and four others arrive at Nashville airport ready to rock out, put some beads and get down with nature. Some nights I will be camping, and a few at a hotel. We are equipped with tents, sleeping bags, baby wipes and lots of sunscreen. After getting our rental car, we plot out our first stop; Third Man Studio Jack White's studio and store. As we approach the studio we realize it's in an industrial/ghetto part of town minutes away from where the Country Music Festival is taking place. We pass the Scott Mission and what appeared to be the local hangout for every local bum in the hood. Arriving at the shop early we park only to be pulled from our spot because Conan O'Brien's people will be arriving soon. Well, fine then. We circle the hood to find a spot. Once in the shop, we are met with limited edition LP's, custom Meg and Jack cameras, 14" singles from Karen Elson, The Dead Wather and other acts on Third Man records. We stare, we shop, we buy, and we leave. I am now the owner of a 14" single and the cutest Raconteurs baby T for a friend.
Jumping on the highway from Nashville to Manchester, the excitement is palpable. We have our afternoon itinerary set, including The XX and Mike Snow and talk about how quickly our tent will be up. As we approach the exit we realize it's closed. State Troopers and the dedicated Bonnaroo radio station instruct us to proceed 20 exits ahead. As we drive further along, it becomes clear there is a massive car line on the other side of the highway. We make peace with sitting in a line for a few hours; how long could it really take. It could and DID take eight hours. By hour seven we had entered into a deep meditative state, keeping us from leaping from the car in a fit of rage towards the entrance. At one point each of us got out, went to the bathroom, got some food and trotted back to the car knowing we could probably go to the local Cineplex and catch a flick, returning to find the car a few feet ahead.
Once we get on-site, it's a gong show. I am supposed to pick up my ticket, which ends up at a hotel media check in at the Holiday Inn. Over 55,000 people were checked that day, most of them camping, RV's, Minivans and Cars navigated through the 700 acres to find a home for the next four days. Rather than attempt to persuade someone to let me in, I romance a production manager who golf carts me to a staff shuttle that takes me to the hotel, where I get my ticket and a cab back to my hotel. Thursday is a wash. Friday is a new day.
Relatively well rested, I make my way to Bonnaroo. Walking onto the grounds, I realize how massive the festival is. In addition to the 700 acres of owned land, other surrounding property owners lease their land for the event, making the total space well over 800 acres. The Tennessee sun beats down on me as I approach my friend's campsite. I walk past showers and washrooms, water stations and hundreds of vendors selling more glass pipes than I have seen. Next to the campsite is a beautiful table housing musical instruments. Guitars, mandolins and drums are laid out for all to use. No connecting wires or security tags. If someone wanted to walk away with an instrument, they could. When the festival was over, all instruments laid peacefully on the table.
When you arrive at Bonnaroo, there is no way to realize how many things are going on, how far things are and how dirty you are going to get. From my suede designer flip flops to my friend's virgin white sundress; there will be some casualties over the weekend. We begin the 15-minute walk into the center passing official and non-official vendors selling food, sundries, drug paraphernalia and of course water. If there is anything I can advocate at Bonnaroo is buy a mister and drink gallons of water each day. Upon arrival at the gates, we get searched, cleared and sent our way to the first act of the day; The National. After referring to our guidebook we determine they are performing at the Which stage. Get this, these are the OFFICIAL names of the stages; Which, This, That, The other and What. If people aren't confused enough already, they send you on a verbal sparring match with your buds figuring out where Tori Amos will be…
Question: What stage is Tori at? Answer: She's at What stage. Question: She's at WHAT stage? Answer: I already told you, What stage. Statement: Either I am really stoned, or this place is insane.
I fall in love with the National during their performance, with a lively lead singer jumping off the stage to perform as he navigates the crowd. Post performance we walk through Centreroo where we find food vendors, volleyball nets, slip and slides and an actual post office. Knowing that stopping too long will ensure we get sucked into the vortex, we keep focused and head over to watch Conan O'Brien. The comedy and adjacent satellite-viewing tent offer a great way to break up the day and keep cool for a few hours in the air conditioning. Everyone laughs, cheers and gets a surprise treat with an appearance from Triumph the Insult Dog. We enter back into Centreroo to find more awesomeness. I pop into the Silent Auction tent and bid on a picture of Alison from the Dead Weather and some tickets for Bonnaroo 2010, losing both bids within hours. Outside the auction, we can see The Fruictus Garnier Hair washing tent, the FUZE/Twix barn and a fantastical water fountain located in the heart of Bonnaroo.
Approaching sensory overload, I take a seat and spent a few minutes observing my fellow festivalgoer. Through my oversized sunglasses and hat I see hundreds of people. Some walking, some eating, and many participating in a water party under the fountain. None of us knew what kind of people came to Bonnaroo, but assumed it would have a folk feel. In a way we were right, but the variety of festivals it took it's cue from extended into each individual festivalgoer as well. I zeroed in on a group of four people. Three girls sat in a circle eating what was later confirmed as a sausage waffle combination. Each girl wore Abercrombie and Fitch tanks, denim shirts and large Camelback backpacks. The guys were equally as prepped out with pastel button downs, Pop collars and kaki shorts. I watched as they laughed and went on like they were in a bubble nestled deep in their minds. Continuing on I spot a man wandering alone wearing a full-length floral print skirt with a drawstring. He is looking at the grass as though it is speaking to him with great importance. His head is shaved bald and beard moist with the Tennessee humidity. Within minutes he seems to forget what he was doing and wanders into the Odwalla music tent for a shot of fruit nutrition and indie band entertainment. Next we have an older couple that I speak to for a few minutes. They are from Michigan and drove up in their RV. They paid $1,500 for a VIP package that included their ticket, separate entrance and exit, served dinner and an RV space. They double fist their beers and talk about the last few Bonnaroo's. Living childless, they travel a lot and take vacation from their lives as a carpenter and teacher. I am beginning to see a theme as I continue to scan the crowd; there is NO theme. There are so many people from so many places in the world from both a physical and social perspective. I decided to get back into the mix and make my way side stage for Tori Amos.
Later in the evening we are ready for the first headliner; King of Leon. Setting our blanket down amongst the other concertgoers, we are ready for something special and special it was. I have never seen such grand stage production. From the hundreds of headlights setting the backstage to the 200 foot tall stage, it takes time to realize how big everything really is. We take in the KOL hits, drink the Malt liquor and watch as girls dressed as farries and men dressed in one-piece lime green body suits float by. It is as much a people watching festival, as it is a musical experience. Post KOL, we roll to The Black Keys. After the auditory assault of the main stage, our ears can't adjust to the small stage and we retreat for the evening. Walking back to our respective homes for the evening, we pass people dancing, giving light shows and lying side by side with their friends in a meditative fetal position. And so we sleep.
Day three and still so much to see and do. Getting back into Centreoo, we hit the Canon photo experience where you can print onto postcard paper, personalize and send off to your loved ones. We eat more of the amazing food, drink from the free water fountains and head over to the main stage for Dead Weather. Yet again, we listen with amazement as the sound seems to get better and better. Alison from Dead Weather goes toe to toe with Jack White and if I were judging, it would be a draw. Your body fills up with the festival spirit and although not political or social in nature, the tone of the afternoon allows you to project The Dead Weathers words within your own world. From lyrics such as
Let's go walk to the border Let's go walk along the inch Let's go when no one can see us And find the difference between us
Listeners can personalize based on their own challenge, struggle or place they are in life. After a few hours of projecting, we head back to the tents to reconvene. It's getting dark and as I continue to observe, I notice more "dark" characters looming about. The guy's you see at the back of the bar that don't quite belong. They may have bought a hemp shirt and some Vibram sandals, but something just doesn't feel right. They are the ones The State Troopers are here for and I feel confident they are watching every step they take. Once we attempt to wash our hands, feet and face for the 100th time we make our way back for the main attraction: JAZY-Z. Because they don't sell vodka on-site, I stop at a local vendor for some homemade Vodka Lemonade for my walk. As they pour we make small talk and my friend asks them where they live. "We live here" they reply. After letting that response marinate for a few seconds, I say, "On one of the local farms?" To which they reply, "No, we live here and travel around some during the year". Did she just tell me the land Bonnaroo is on it a yearly commune? I have emailed the promoters for answers and am waiting to hear back.
Back at main stage, we are ready. Pre show I throw the Frisbee around for a while and talk to the locals about how the festival is so profitable, it actually affects State Tax. Insane. It's dark, warm and tens of thousands of people wait patiently. Two massive screens that flank the stage start a countdown from 10 minutes. By minute six, it's a sight to see with all heads forward ready for the 10-second countdown. 10..9..8..7..6..5..4..3..2..1..Bang. Massive direct spotlights shoot down onto Jay-Z's back as he swaggers (I don't think the man is capable of anything else) across the stage to start the show. From the 100-foot by 80 feet digital screens rotating imagery of the NY skyline to the thousands of lighters dancing across the crowds, people are transfixed. There was some irony with a majority white audience listening to one of the most influential black musician talk about Barack in office and his times selling crack in the hood. But there was this community warms that seemed to transcend color, culture and personal views. It was like when I was in alternative school. We had thugs, gays, rockers and ravers all living in relative peace. It was the collective union we felt having been rejected by "normal" society that gave us the sympathy and apathy for one another. I felt that as Jay-Z sang the hell out of 99 Problems.
Following Jaz-Z we headed to see DeadMau5 for some, in my opinion, horrible house music. Two of the closest stages played dance music well into the morning. The problem; they were so close, they competed. After days of walking, dancing, watering and discovering I was ready to collapse, so I did.
Waking at 8AM, we headed into Centreoo to grab our last breakfast. As we crossed the rainbow shaped entrance all we could see were hundreds and hundreds of water bottles. I looked at my friend and said, "I guess the cleaning crew got pretty high last night and forgot a few things". After eating a pretty decent spinach omelet, we started to make our way back to camp to pack up. Turning the corner past the post office we were blown away. Almost EVERY water bottle was gone? Did we just eat an omelet spiked with ACID? No, we had just witnessed what a community clean up program with benefits can do. To the left of us was a 20X20 both with dozens of items. Backpacks, shampoo, food, chairs, sleeping bags. Beside each item was a number. 50 for a t-shirt, 2- for hair gel, etc. We approached a guy behind a computer to inquire and he gave us the skinny. "For every bottle you bring to the station, they give you one point towards an item. Items range from 50 points to 1000." We sat there almost in amazement for the next two minutes. Sometimes it is that simple. Do something good and someone will do something good for you. It was a beautiful last moment to a memorable festival.
The Music
Better than I have ever seen. Stage production was out of sight. From hundreds of floodlights acting as a backdrop for Kings of Leon to 100 feet tall rotating imagery of the New York skyline during Jay-Z, there was nowhere else in the world I wanted to be during the performances.