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Reviewer:
Dann Dykas

In the shadow of music festival giant, Woodstock, many seeds have taken root. Lollapalooza, Warped Tour and Ozzfest are just a few of the touring entities that have filled stadium after stadium across the country. But not since Woodstock’s tragic downfall in ‘99 has a festival brought so many people together from so far away as the Coachella Valley Music and Art Festival.

Born the same year that the three day festival of love met its tragic ending, Coachella has succeeded where its predecessor failed. Reaching far and wide, it has brought people from around the country together to celebrate the diversity and brilliance of music and art instead of frantically grasping at any hot headliner that it could get its hands on. This years line-up was no exception. In fact, it was one to rival any music festival in history. Bands were brought in from over seas (Radiohead, Muse, Bright Eyes, Stereolab, the Sounds) and even brought back from the dead (The Cure, The Pixies, the Flaming Lips) to make for one lesson in music history that wont be forgotten any time soon.

The event is held at the insanely large Polo Field in Indio, California. It is separated into two areas, the camp ground (aka Tent City) and the Venue. Climbing, hung-over and thirsty from their 100 degree tent Saturday morning, the first thing one notices is a sea of tents. The edges of the campground are hidden by the curvature of the earth. If the Coachella experience is what you seek, then camping is the only way to go. The mini-prison is equipped with a few concession stands, a utilitarian $6/pack of smokes wielding “convenience store”, and a pair of twin semi truck trailers brandishing the gift of rain in the form of a cool desperately needed shower.

The venue itself is a large L shaped section of grass further divided into beer gardens, shade tents, vendors, concessions and the ever-important portalets. Each one of these becomes your friend instantly because they all have one thing in common, Shade. The five stages are of minimal importance during many of the daylight hours. Despite the desire to get into the pit and bounce with your tattooed and pierced brothers and sisters, it’s hard to find the motivation to do much but kick back in the shade and pound down $2 bottles of water or $6 beers till you can feel your blood thinning. But the good thing is, is that music is everywhere.

The two monolithic outdoor stages sport some of the most advanced and high powered sound equipment on the market today. They blast the melancholy lyrics of Bright Eyes and Death Cab past the colossal crowds into the food courts and even through the toilets. No matter where you sit, you can always be sure you will be able to hear your favorite band, even though you cant keep your legs solid enough to carry you closer.

The initial feel of the music screamed of Indie Rock and Emo. With bands like Bright Eyes, Death Cab for Cutie, …Trail of the Dead and Sparta collecting some of the largest crowds during the day, one is lead to wonder if this is the new face of pop music. But it wasn’t until nightfall when the real crowds would begin gather to pay tribute to the bands that started a revolution in music and in our minds and prove once again, that rock isn’t dead.

Saturday day was full of bands, and kept you meandering in the heat from tent to tent trying to catch the end of one set and the beginning of another. Some of the high points were Sahara Hotnights, Junior Senior, and the recently added Beck. Each did an amazing job and despite the 115 degree heat in the tents, they drew quite a crowd. As one band ended and another began, a mass exodus would head in the direction of the next favorite, just in case there was any indecisiveness on who to see next.

The evening took a turn from the Emo as the newly formed collage of artists currently known as Desert Sessions took the stage. Organized by Queens of the Stone Age’s Joshua Homme and containing such talented members as PJ Harvey, Dean Ween and Twiggy Ramirez (formerly of Marilyn Manson), Desert Sessions successfully made the transition from the days nouveau music styling into the refined and recently resurrected night performers.

Just as Sparta finished an intense set, the sun finally disappeared behind the mountains surrounding the valley. The crowd gathered quickly in anticipation of the reunion and first show in almost 12 years of the Pixies. They were a band that had changed the face of music and as they took the stage for the first time since 1992, you could tell that they knew they had done something good and they missed doing it. Black Francis and Kim Deal took their places, beaming ear to ear. And the smiles never left as they performed some of their most popular songs in front of a crowd probably surpassing 50 thousand people. The sea of cheering people raised their fists to “debaser,” sang along with “Monkey Gone to Heaven” and went ballistic when Kim Deal belted out the familiar wailing to “Where is my Mind”. The intensity of the set was only the beginning. Even though many claimed to only have come to see the Pixies, the audience for Radiohead surpassed even the massive sea that was present for the Pixies.

The progression of the brit-rock band Radiohead is easy to follow. Each album became more and more experimental, always staying well ahead of its time. 11 years and 6 albums sure gave them a lot of hit songs to play. And with the absence of Wilco from the festival lineup, Radiohead had plenty of time to play them. The set, flanked by two vertically mounted 30’ long plasma screen televisions, was designed with the sound of Radiohead in mind.

Row after row of lights wrapped around the stage and pulsed with the trippy fluidness of Amnesiac and Kid A. Each song had an accompanying light show and video screen effect. Static bubbled and popped on a digital screen giving the effect of antiquated equipment to a synthetic sounding music as if to emphasize that this isn’t computer generated, this is Rock Music. The set wound down, one hit after the other, with the majority coming from the award winning OK Computer. After the lights dimmed and the band left the stage there was tension in the air. Where were the classics? What about Pablo Honey and The Bends? Tom Yorke didn’t forget, he saved the best for last.

Never have “High and Dry” and “Planet Telex” sounded so good. The anticipation, the comparison. Ah it was sweet. And the only way to finish off the hour and fourty five minute set, Creep, sung the way it was suppose to be. “You’re so fucking special, I wish I was special. But I'm a creep.” Being closely tailed by the Pixies, Radiohead was a favorite for the day.

After a long line and a short shower, Sunday began. The day started later, with much less of a hurry. The list of bands was the same length, but there were fewer to get excited about. With the exception of an opening act by Pretty Girls Make Graves and a mid day show of another Brit-rocker, Muse, there wasn’t a whole lot to rush towards. The sunburn from the previous day kept most people cowering to any shade they could find. People standing in one spot too long would often find people in their shadows, like cockroaches, fighting to hide from daylight. But as the sun set and the wonderful art instillations lit up, the energy picked up again.

The conflict on Sunday was which band to close out the night with. In an effort to apparently get people trampled, the final slot for four of the five stages contained a band well worth seeing. Most peoples money was on Robert Smith’s progeny The Cure. But Ash, Paul Van Dyk and Le Tigre were also occupying closing slots. Many concert goers could be seen darting from one stage to another then another in an attempt to catch at least some of each set.

Closest to the exit and the main headliner for Sunday, The Cure did a phenomenal job. Mixing old hits, which less known classics and even new pieces, Robert Smith belted out the lyrics with the same emotion and intensity as he had when Disintegration was first released. Despite a few extra pounds here and there, not much has changed. The Cure will continue to be a burden and a blessing to misunderstood teenagers and adults for years to come.

The final exodus to the parking lot was vaguely reminiscing of herding cattle or lemmings wandering off a cliff. But the mindless walk gave reflection time. The festival had been a success. The increasing prices were very disheartening, and the crackpot security left you wondering if you were being protected or just being violated, but all in all, it was well worth the money. If the lineup can continue to be as diverse and amazing as it was this year, the increasing capitalism will be tolerated. But Coachella beware, history repeats itself. We don’t want another Woodstock ‘99. Keep it about the music and you will do just fine. Oh, and do something about the sun.