I think this
article is pretty damn spot on....Could be 'cuz I'm old.
I Hate Summer Concerts. So Should You.
words: Phoebe Assenza
photos: Steve Hopson
It??s early June, summer is all-up-on us, and obsessive fans of live music like yourself, dear Loose reader, can look forward to all those amazing outdoor summer festivals, right?
?Not so much.
After the cancellation of the Lollapalooza tour, the botched Woodstock that turned into a fiery, riot-y, rape-a-thon, and the failed Field Day, huge ensemble rock shows are disappearing faster than you can say ??arrests at Ozzfest.? One of the few exceptions is the Vans Warped Tour, which no one over the age of seventeen-and-a-half would attend. This year??s Warped Tour also bears the unintentionally humorous slogan, ??The Tour That Won??t Die.? I??m not so sure a tour that can only boast its mere existence is worth the 50 bucks to get in. My great-gramma ??wouldn??t die? for almost a hundred years, but that doesn??t mean hanging with her was a blast.
The summer rock festival phenomenon is nearly dead, and I couldn??t be happier about it. It??s a relief, but that??s not for lack of enjoying the rock, or not being a fan of more than one band at a time, or an aversion the sun. It??s only because, like Nelly with Tim McGraw, these elements can??t mix without creating something baffling and nauseating. All-day rock shows are totally over-hyped and overloaded. If you??ve attended your share of Lollapaloozas, Coachellas, or any other Big Days Out, you??ve probably noticed they all tend to go the same way.
The day starts full of hope and promise. You??re hydrated, caffeinated, and have a full bottle of Coppertone in your girlfriend??s overstuffed satchel, which she??s stuck carrying all day (sucker!). You??ve made it through the entrance line and security check?And now it??s time to rage!
The next six hours will consist of watching bands like The Fucktards. They??re on Goatfuck Records, and you??ve seen their video on a Tuesday at 4 o??clock in the morning when you had insomnia. When you grow tired of hopping from stage to stage to catch every B-level act (to feel justified in spending the exorbitant ticket fee), you hit the port-o-potty you??ve been avoiding all day after having thrown back all those expensive Budweisers and frozen lemonades. You wait in line for three years to relieve yourself in something that??s so gross and disturbing it looks like it came from Seven, (the creepiest movie ever made).
Only two more hours ??til sundown, and you??re huddled under the shade of a sapling that 25 other people found as well. You??re a bit burned out, full of fried food, and look kind of red and sad.
Then you have this thought. You dare not say it out aloud, for fear your friends would think you??re dropping sad-bombs on their fun in the sun.
??We should have just skipped the day and come for the headliner. That??s all I really wanted to see anyway?I can??t believe I paid so much for this day-long suckjob...?
You are perfectly right to think this! It may seem crazy, but seeing every band you??ve ever heard of, all playing on the same bill, in 563 degree heat, for 300 dollars is just grueling if you don??t have the wide-eyed glee of a teenager who bought a new outfit at Hot Topic just for the occasion. In fact, putting all those bands together on one bill is an evil trick that concert promoters play on loyal fans like you because they know you??d feel guilty and left-out if you didn??t travel to Chicago to see Weezer, The Pixies, Death Cab For Cutie, and The Arcade Fire.
Let me assure you, you??re better off seeing each of these bands individually when they stop in your town and play at The Well-Ventilated Theatre, or Cushy-Seat Plaza. It??ll be much more fun, the band will play a longer set, and they will be totally-fucking-on because it??s THEIR show, in a proper venue. They??re not forced to stand in the merciless sunlight and sweltering heat, shamefully exposing their pasty white indie-rock limbs, and basically bumming out all over an outdoor stage that??s much too big for them anyway.
Here??s an anecdote: When I was 19, my favorite bands were Sonic Youth, Sleater-Kinney, and Superchunk, and in what I interpreted as a glorious act of Allah, they all played together at a ranch in Orange County on the 4th of July. I peed myself repeatedly, until I arrived at the show and watched every single band complain about how fucking hot it was when they took the stage and play shitty sets. It turned out to be the worst show I had been to yet, and I realized even though the line-up was my musical equivalent to the amazing salad bar at Sizzler, the acoustics of a large field are not that good and the sheer discomfort of all other aspects of the day cancels out the awesomeness. Plus, you invariably have some dude made out of dreadlocks and hemp writhing around shirtless and whipping his sweat at everyone like it??s not totally disgusting. He shows up at every outdoor show no matter who??s playing, and you don??t want to deal with that.
So, if you feel you??ve graduated the ranks of perspiring masses, yet your mouse is still hovering over that ??Buy Tickets Now? button, just remember you??re actually purchasing an expensive and time consuming reminder of why last year you vouched to not go back.
