July 12, 13,
and 14 2013
We're late.
Leaving the house in perfect order 4 hours later than our anticipated departure time was worth the peace of mind. Until we realize our rooms may be given away. We call. Get it sorted. And our 6 hour road trip gains an hour and a half with rush hour traffic through Columbus and then Cincinnati.
On the way we get the confirmation that Animal Collective will not be there to enhance our lives with their music. Big disappointment. This band is the reason my search for a get-a-way ended with Forcastle. This band is the reason for a lot of things. But today, this band's infallible image that I have created received it's first (maybe 2nd or 3rd) blemish in my intangible book of expectations.
We pull in to the tight one way street encompassing the Seelbach hotel - every street seems to be a one-way, and making the trek around the block is like a mouse trap, forcing us away from our cheese.
We haul our necessities up to the room and take inventory; two small suitcases, a full cooler to keep costs down, a backpack for the swag, a toiletries bag for the hygiene, laptop case with laptop, and a beach bag with towels and food. I think we'll have enough for the weekend.
We prep and make way to the venue - a sprawling contemporary park with LED lit water features, public art and sculptures, and a sea of people - young and old, all searching for that moment of unity in song.
We're late.
Leaving the house in perfect order 4 hours later than our anticipated departure time was worth the peace of mind. Until we realize our rooms may be given away. We call. Get it sorted. And our 6 hour road trip gains an hour and a half with rush hour traffic through Columbus and then Cincinnati.
On the way we get the confirmation that Animal Collective will not be there to enhance our lives with their music. Big disappointment. This band is the reason my search for a get-a-way ended with Forcastle. This band is the reason for a lot of things. But today, this band's infallible image that I have created received it's first (maybe 2nd or 3rd) blemish in my intangible book of expectations.
We pull in to the tight one way street encompassing the Seelbach hotel - every street seems to be a one-way, and making the trek around the block is like a mouse trap, forcing us away from our cheese.
We haul our necessities up to the room and take inventory; two small suitcases, a full cooler to keep costs down, a backpack for the swag, a toiletries bag for the hygiene, laptop case with laptop, and a beach bag with towels and food. I think we'll have enough for the weekend.
We prep and make way to the venue - a sprawling contemporary park with LED lit water features, public art and sculptures, and a sea of people - young and old, all searching for that moment of unity in song.
We're late. Animal Collective is still not playing Sunday - this isn't starting out like I imagined.
We've missed a lot. But as we work our way through the park with 4 stages, we can see flashing lights with silhouettes of hands bouncing in the foreground. We make way to see Boys Noize, a DJ. This stage, the Ocean Stage is stuck under a bridge, and the fog machine, along with the smoker's exhalation collect under the bridge creating it's own little ecosystem - one that apparently cultivates euphoria. We work our way to the front of the crowd munching on a slice of pizza and sipping a PBR. We find a great spot - the music sounds amazing, and we look at each other with eyes that say we've finally made it. There's a young couple in front of us, feeling amorous. I said aloud, "those kids there are having a moment." And they were. If only they knew the importance of it, they'd try harder to remember.
Sweaty and smiling, Boys Noize ends his set, we emerge from the masses as everyone scatters. We attempt again in figuring out the layout of the park, but it's dark and all the fountains and grass and sand looks the same. we find our way to the bourbon lodge, get some tickets and enjoy some fine Kentucky bourbon as we find the String Cheese Incident playing on the main stage. A jam band with an eclectic following. We're at the front of the stage and the show seems to lack that something special, that je ne sais quoi, that we found at Boys Noize. We stop for a grilled cheese sandwich on our way from the park. We were late, but we made it. And what matters is not that we’ve made it, or that we were late, but what we do with our time here.
On the 2nd day our room feels much smaller with stuff tossed about. We gather ourselves and begin the mile long hike, backpack in tow, to the park. It’s a beautiful day – scorching hot with clouds dotting the skyline. We walk down to the pier where the tour b oats are, and then made a sharp right along the waterfront to the park. I’m just glad we’re close enough to avoid driving in this strange labyrinth of a city.
Sitting in the grass with MNDR performing. People silently swarm, and as more arrive to her stage the people behind walk a little faster, like how water pulls water down, interest drawing interest. Excitement is growing. First track down and the swarmers applaud. She’s in a rhythm and everyone can feel it. But then, towards the end of her set, she screws up, admittedly – which makes it worse. It could have been passed off as a little glitch, but she stops the music, grabs the mic and admits to her growing fan base that she messed up. Then she puts on another song that doesn’t quite fit into the time she has left – and has to stop it abruptly. It kind of fizzled at the end of her set so we unfurled our towel and relaxed as we charted our course throughout the day.
I decide to write a little. There's such a variety here - old, young, fat, thin, ravers, cowboys, dancers, the sedentary, and one guy in a fairy outfit – that I've seen so far. All are friendly, offering a seat at their picnic table so we can eat some heady tacos (really delicious gluten, and cheese, free tacos). Showing us where to go, offering their joy as a gift, without any reciprocation.
High rise
shorts on women are the fad, no matter what age. The cool breeze whips a
million identifiable odors through the park – it’s the infinite unidentifiable
odors that makes my olfactory senses heighten as I stop and question what
exactly that smell is. And the dichotomy between the hipster music and techno
and blue grass mixing with the Louisville setting of bourbon and big cigars
could only work here, and only in the summer. Like my first thought on day one –
unity through music. Everyone seeking the same transcendental experience before
the time is up. Before you have to either ride the wave of joy home, or slump
over defeated and exhausted. And home. Home is what makes these differences so
apparent. A river of people, slinking about, and each of them wearing a piece
of home – a piece of what they feel most comfortable in; jeans, or high-waisted
shorts, or plastic sunglasses and a tanktop, or wearing only glo-sticks. But in
this neutral territory the ground itself strings everyone together
harmoniously.
Hula hoopers, fish on stilts, Hunter S Thompson - spectacles everywhere.
Thousands of people doing millions of things, and when we're sitting on our beach towel in the midst of it all, it's not unlike an afternoon at the beach. The rhythm of the waves is replaced with music, and the pages of a book are now the made up stories of those around us. Everything is distanced from us, even though we’re in the center of it. The muffled chaos around us is soothing, as though we’re at the beach the same peaceful tranquility falls over us.
I'm sitting at Nosaj Thing, now 8pm. The festivities resume after a severe weather scare which led to an evacuation. The park was closed for 35 minutes. Nevertheless, we showered and were able to relax a little. Coming in we catch the last half of Tokimonster's set, which ended incredibly. At some point a minute before the set ended she broke the 180bpm with a short pause, and then a unified beat brought everyone up at the same time. It was wispy and strong and everyone jumped victoriously, like we’re all on the same team.
We walked over to see Alabama Shakes and the entire park was full, the 3 ft personal space rule was broken on a serial level. So we wandered off for a bit and snagged some pulled pork and a few ounces of american honey to sip instead.
The big attractions of the fest - Alabama Shakes, Black Keys, and the Flaming Lips. First are Alabama Shakes and I admit that I'm a fan. Their dirty blues sound belongs in a basement bar room where the sound seems to originate. Because tonight the sound is thin and unenthusiastic - perhaps it's the expansiveness of the park that keeps the melodies from resounding like they would in tight quarters. We got out of the heat in the tent and were able to watch the Shakes on the tv provided. Still, it sounded hollow and tinny compared to the dance stage – and to be honest I was really looking forward to hearing Brittany Howard wail. Either way, we left the mass of people and headed on over to see the Flaming Lips. Our position to the stage was less than perfect; off to the side with barely enough room to see the profile of the lead singer. Who, by the way, was 4 ft above the stage on a platform with strings of LEDs wound through the stage and into his outfit (including a babydoll he was holding). I'm sure it was quite a spectacle for those who could see, but again, the sound left us wanting more. Something to make us go wow.
This is what has led to my love of Animal Collective - when you go to a concert you're getting a completely new experience. Songs from their albums are tossed in between melodic long bridges and tangents and suddenly you're witnessing something that couldn't be encountered by putting on a record, or hitting play on a cd or mp3. These songs by the Flaming Lips, Alabama Shakes, and even the Black Keys could easily be heard with the same fervor in their voice and tightness in their melodies on a record. And the crowd, although fun and happy and pleasant, didn't make up for the difference in price between the concert tickets and the album cost.
Thousands of people doing millions of things, and when we're sitting on our beach towel in the midst of it all, it's not unlike an afternoon at the beach. The rhythm of the waves is replaced with music, and the pages of a book are now the made up stories of those around us. Everything is distanced from us, even though we’re in the center of it. The muffled chaos around us is soothing, as though we’re at the beach the same peaceful tranquility falls over us.
I'm sitting at Nosaj Thing, now 8pm. The festivities resume after a severe weather scare which led to an evacuation. The park was closed for 35 minutes. Nevertheless, we showered and were able to relax a little. Coming in we catch the last half of Tokimonster's set, which ended incredibly. At some point a minute before the set ended she broke the 180bpm with a short pause, and then a unified beat brought everyone up at the same time. It was wispy and strong and everyone jumped victoriously, like we’re all on the same team.
We walked over to see Alabama Shakes and the entire park was full, the 3 ft personal space rule was broken on a serial level. So we wandered off for a bit and snagged some pulled pork and a few ounces of american honey to sip instead.
The big attractions of the fest - Alabama Shakes, Black Keys, and the Flaming Lips. First are Alabama Shakes and I admit that I'm a fan. Their dirty blues sound belongs in a basement bar room where the sound seems to originate. Because tonight the sound is thin and unenthusiastic - perhaps it's the expansiveness of the park that keeps the melodies from resounding like they would in tight quarters. We got out of the heat in the tent and were able to watch the Shakes on the tv provided. Still, it sounded hollow and tinny compared to the dance stage – and to be honest I was really looking forward to hearing Brittany Howard wail. Either way, we left the mass of people and headed on over to see the Flaming Lips. Our position to the stage was less than perfect; off to the side with barely enough room to see the profile of the lead singer. Who, by the way, was 4 ft above the stage on a platform with strings of LEDs wound through the stage and into his outfit (including a babydoll he was holding). I'm sure it was quite a spectacle for those who could see, but again, the sound left us wanting more. Something to make us go wow.
This is what has led to my love of Animal Collective - when you go to a concert you're getting a completely new experience. Songs from their albums are tossed in between melodic long bridges and tangents and suddenly you're witnessing something that couldn't be encountered by putting on a record, or hitting play on a cd or mp3. These songs by the Flaming Lips, Alabama Shakes, and even the Black Keys could easily be heard with the same fervor in their voice and tightness in their melodies on a record. And the crowd, although fun and happy and pleasant, didn't make up for the difference in price between the concert tickets and the album cost.
We work our way through the masses on our mile walk back to the hotel satisfied with our day. Stumbling kids mirror those twice their age as they trip over curbs and find balance by hanging on a tree limbs. The aggregate spreads and diffuses through the city, and soon we’re alone, but only for a second. The easiest way home is through what is called Fourth Street LIVE!, as noted on a gigantic neon sign. It’s a brick and paver road with restaurants and shopping, all a little more “dressy” than where we just came from. My sweat soaked shirt, dirty feet ,and beet red forehead amass different looks – like I didn’t prep for this type of soirée, and it’s true. I didn’t.
On the next
block we’re back at the hotel. We collapse upon ourselves, and lay there unable
to sleep, whispering stories of the day to each other, until the only sound is
the air conditioner and our light breathing.
Last day of festivities and I grab two bagels, a tea, and a coffee from Einstein Bros. (for $6, couldn’t believe it!) and work our way back down to the park. From what we've seen of Louisville, it's nice, and it's a fraction, I'm sure, of what Louisville really is. We sit in front of A Lion Named Roar and I write. People start filling the park. It's 91 degrees today and the thick and heavy air will soon be filled with a mix of burning meat, body odor, smoke and of course music. We'll be headed to our favorite stage soon, but for now the breeze and quasi decent pop sounds of a Lion Named Roar suffice - supplemented with a beach towel for sitting, and a cold PBR for sipping.
New spot to sit at the techno stage. White, dirty, bruised and bug bitten legs are all I see from my seated position. Most with tattoos. All with a little bounce in them. Families sit together right next to dirty, unwashed devotees of the scene - all bobbing their head in synchronicity.
Baauer - we lock our seats with the trusty beach towel as our anchor. They go through their checks and there's a delay. Finally we see Baauer begin to clap his hands and the bass hit, at the same time I witness a young man with an animal towel as a shirt and hat combo freak out. I saw him turn to a guy standing toward the back with a beer held against his belly, and scream. Not just scream but fall to his knees and look up with absolute terror. His hands grabs the air to the next of his face with a primeval flight response. He soon flopped face first into the dirt and gyrated on the compact sand. The group of people here to witness stood waiting for him to get up. As though he was dancing. But he didn't get up. He kept shaking and convulsing. A few guys raced away to get help. He was having a seizure.
Medics came and got him out of there.
The night
went on, and will continue to long after the last song is played, but the image
of this boy whacked out on whatever, and not having an enjoyable experience
will always stick in my memory.
We still
enjoyed the show. Walked over to see a few other sets of other bands and everything began to layer itself over top of the previous second. Each second of excitation and interaction lingered and built upon each other until we became cloaked in sensation. White noise. A static quick sand. And I feel as though I'm standing at the bottom of it - unable to breathe, my heart rate rose and I could feel my eyes widen as my nerves snapped like dry rotted rope.
Reality melts away the cloak of intense sensation - and I'm in the car, safely driving back - 3 hours more to go. Now if only my memories would serve me better for the record of this account.
If only the memories could be given away in a tapestry, when felt, each square would resemble the moment in which it was born. But no - instead these words will do, even though they will never succeed in being the moment themselves, and will never be justly recounted.
Never be worth it?
Jordan R Shaver
July 15th 2013
Reality melts away the cloak of intense sensation - and I'm in the car, safely driving back - 3 hours more to go. Now if only my memories would serve me better for the record of this account.
If only the memories could be given away in a tapestry, when felt, each square would resemble the moment in which it was born. But no - instead these words will do, even though they will never succeed in being the moment themselves, and will never be justly recounted.
Never be worth it?
Jordan R Shaver
July 15th 2013
