Rock On Oates!

E and I have the debate every once in a while about the musical merit of Hall and Oates. She steadfastly refuses to admit the power of the early 80's white boy soul while I whole heartedly champion the fact that "Sarah Smile", "She's Gone" and "Rich Girl" are genius. The one thing we both can agree on, however, is the majesty of the John Oates Mustache. Mixed with the early 80's faux Jeri Curl or even in it's later day middle aged incarnation, the Oates 'stache is an entity unto itself.

So how psyched was I to read about this - a planned John Oates cartoon that features him in his mustachioed glory?!?!?!?! That's right - we've got Oates kicking ass, singing soul, and looking gooooooood!!!

Bonnaroo, Day 3: Saturday

Sorry for the delay in Bonnaroo updates; I've still been getting used to being back in the real world--and, admittedly, I've been addicted to Lego Indiana Jones on XBox 360.

We awoke early Saturday morning to a relatively lightened sky, and continued pitter-patter of rain on our tent. We took advantage of the early awakening and a brief lull in the rain to hit the $7 showers near our campsite before the lines got too long. My shower was great, but Joker complained of too little water pressure when he went a little while after I did. Still, soap and hot water were glorious things after two days of sweat, sunscreen, and bug repellent. Luckily for us, the rain cooled everything down for the moment, and we got to feel clean for a few hours; had it been a day earlier or a day later, we'd probably have felt gross and sticky within minutes of getting back to camp.

Joker headed into Centeroo at about 10am to check on the arrival of Pearl Jam's collectible posters; the band issues a unique show poster design for every concert, and this one was sure to be a quick seller (every time we asked the merchandise people when the PJ posters might arrive, they exasperatedly told us they wished they had a dime for every person who'd asked). I joined him in the line shortly thereafter, laughing along the way at the long queues for the Gillette Shave Shop and the Garnier Fructis Salon in Centeroo...apparently we weren't the only people valuing freshness that morning.

The posters went on sale earlier than expected, and we were armed with our copies (and free Pearl Jam tote bags!) quickly. Someone noticed that a wallet was left on the table fans were using to roll their posters into tubes, and Joker realized it was a kid he'd been talking to in line all morning. Rather than rush the wallet to Lost and Found (which it might take the kid a while to track down), Joker opted to stand near the poster line for a few minutes, waiting for the kid to return. He did, after a few minutes, and Joker earned us some good karma points.

We took the posters back to the car, chilled at camp a little longer, and headed back to Centeroo closer to 1:00, to see Donavon Frankenreiter. The rain had completely cleared at this point, and the lines to enter were massive, so we missed quite a bit of Frankenreiter's set. What we did hear was solid white-boy funk, and a guest appearance by ukelele prodigy Jake Shimabukuro was incredibly impressive.

We debated our strategy for the day, and decided it would be best to head to the What Stage area, to see what the early Pearl Jam squatter crowd looked like. When we realized that we could get a good spot behind the cordoned-off "pit" area up front, we opted to set up shop there for the remainder of the day. It was, at this point, 2:40 pm. Pearl Jam wasn't due to the stage until 10:15.

The day's first band was the multi-culti Ozomatli, who turned in a high-energy, very danceable set. The pit area was empty enough that Joker and I were able to take turns going up into it to get some close-view photos. The highlight of the Ozomatli set, however, had to be a performance of the Pharcyde classic "Passin' Me By," since the current incarnation of the band features a former Pharcyder as MC.

B.B. King was next, and after his band played a couple of opening instrumental numbers, the mayor of Manchester was introduced to present B.B. with a key to the city. Hilariously, the mayor of Coffee County (in which Manchester is located) got an inferiority complex and shoehorned himself into the proceedings. King was humble, gracious, and funny in his acceptance speech, and then he eased into his customary chair for an hour-plus set of amazing guitar, stellar vocals, and hilarious storytelling. Did I mention it was eighty degrees outside, and the man is eighty-two years old? He had a crowd of easily more than 40,000 for this show, and they were eating out of the palm of his hand. That, my friends, is a showman.

Once B.B. was offstage, there was a renewed surge for field position for the rest of the night. We closed in toward the pit barricade, tight enough that everyone in our area was standing for the entire ninety minutes before Jack Johnson's set. Johnson came to the stage alone, then was joined after a song or two by his backing band; the set design included video screens that alternated abstract imagery with black-and-white footage of the band (clearly a component of Johnson's regular tour setup). The Bonnaroo jumbotrons had technical difficulties throughout, and were even cut off completely at times, but luckily, the glitches were worked out before Pearl Jam. Highlights of Johnson's set included guest appearances by Eddie Vedder (which fired up the PJ-friendly crowd) and Money Mark. I'll leave room for Joker to elaborate, as he's more familiar with Jack Johnson's repertoire, and more of a fan.

By the time Johnson's set ended, the sky was fully dark, and anticipation for Pearl Jam ramped up yet again. I'm going to save discussion of Pearl Jam's performance for a separate post, as it was such a huge deal on its own, but the short version is this: They rocked our socks off for nearly three hours, including performances of songs neither Joker nor I had ever seen in concert (and a few that were rarities even for the diehards), and it can easily be labeled the best concert I've ever attended. More later, I promise.

When we left the What Stage at about 1:10am, we headed back into the rest of Centeroo concerned mainly with resting our feet while staying awake for the 2:45 Kanye West show. I grabbed a caffeinated soda, Joker a lemonade, and we rested our dogs for a few minutes outside That Tent, where Sigur Ros was playing their "Icelandic Fairy Music" for a massive throng. I got to hear a favorite track, "#4" from the "parentheses" album, and one new track that featured (bizarrely) a mariachi band and horn section, before we headed off to see something a little less dreamy and sleep-inducing: the end of the Lupe Fiasco set at The Other Tent.

We only got to see three or four songs at the end of Lupe's set, but let this be known: The man can work a damn crowd. With a full band at his disposal, he was in full control of a packed tent, and I know I'd definitely put another live Lupe show on my schedule in a heartbeat.

It was also at this time that we started to get our first taste of the Rave Kydz, all ecstasy and glow-toys: a massive population of goofy white folks dancing obnoxiously while waving luminescent items of all kinds (glow sticks, glow necklaces, flashing-light balls on strings, long jumpropes of flickering glow). These people had been waiting all weekend for the danceable late-Saturday slate to kick in, and now they were dominating the visible crowd. This would be a theme for the next few hours.

After Lupe, and a little after 2am, we headed back to the What Stage area to await Kanye's "Glow in the Dark" show. We found a semi-clean spot on the lawn pretty far from the stage, and waited to see how late it would start, after Pearl Jam's schedule overrun. There was a two-and-a-half-hour set break built into the original schedule, but it started to be apparent that the crew would need nearly all of that time to remove Pearl Jam's rigs (which had been in place all day) and bring in Kanye's equipment. At about 3:05, the jumbotrons posted an announcement: "Kanye West now at 3:15." At 3:15, that became "Kanye West now at 3:30." At 3:30, it reverted simply to "Kanye West Up Next!" At 3:40, we headed to The Other Tent to see Chali 2na.

As everyone by now knows (see my previous post), Kanye's set didn't begin until nearly 4:30am, bleeding into sunrise and negating the "glow in the dark" light show aspects. The crowd of nearly 50,000 who went to the What Stage at 2:45 had thinned to about 30,000 by the time he came on, and most people we heard from on Sunday were disappointed in the show. He was booed, things were thrown at the stage during the wait...it was, put simply, the one truly ugly blemish on an otherwise fantastic Bonnaroo weekend (at least from where we stood).

Kanye has since posted a blog missive that glancingly blames Pearl Jam and directly blames the Bonnaroo promoters for numerous infractions, including the scheduling snafus and set construction issues. I still don't let Kanye off the hook for this--at the very least, breaking character to say "Thanks for stayin' up, y'all" or something would have alleviated the bad vibes--but there could very well be some truth to this. Firstly, the two-hour time slot given to Pearl Jam was unrealistically short; the band regularly plays two-and-a-half-hour shows, and this was a special occasion with a massive crowd. Logically, no one should have expected PJ to finish on time, so they should have figured set-changing issues into the time between the PJ and Kanye shows at less than the official 2.5 hours. (And this isn't the first issue they had with mis-timing a headliner. Last year, they reportedly printed a three-hour block in the schedule for the Police, who had a clockwork-tight two-hour show for every night of their tour, and when the band played so short of the three hours, fans were disappointed at a supposedly shortchanged show.)

Secondly, they had originally scheduled Kanye to play at 8pm (still daylight in Manchester) on the smaller Which Stage, and only moved his production to late-night at What earlier in the week; that had to wreak havoc on the planning. Pearl Jam left the stage fifty minutes later than the printed schedule; Kanye West came onstage a hundred minutes after he was scheduled to. Clearly, there were set-construction issues not figured into the schedule, and that was somebody's fault (likely not the roadies and local crew, who worked diligently the rest of the weekend). So we'll probably never know what really happened or who's to blame for the Kanye fiasco, but it's a real shame it went down the way it did; it likely hurt hip-hop's future at the festival, at the very least.

It's a real shame: nearly everything else at the festival that we saw--stage setups, portable toilet maintenance, trash collection--ran like clockwork (with the exception of security checks at the Centeroo gates during high-traffic periods). All the other trains ran on time, relatively, but this Kanye thing was out-of-hand late. Bad moment in an otherwise great weekend.

But back to the music! On our way out of the What Stage, we were briefly (and hilariously) accosted by a dancing guy waving a beer bottle and, oh yeah, wearing a fucking suit. A full-on suit and tie. In a night of surreality, this took the cake.

We headed to The Other Tent for what we could see of the Chali 2na performance, but the Jurassic 5 MC hadn't taken the stage yet. He was running mildly late, so we waited a few minutes for him to arrive. His backing band was funk-jam favorites Galactic, and Chali emerged with some good rhymes in his signature bass-heavy voice, including Jurassic 5's "Golden." After a few songs, though, the ecstasy people descended, the tent got a bit crowded, and we decided it was best, at 4:10 am, to head for the tent. We slogged through a little leftover mud on the way, and were too tired even to do anything about our shoes before flopping into the sleeping bags.

As we hit head to pillow, we heard loud thumping and the distant strains of "Gold Digger." A fitting end to a crazy night. But we were still on enough of a Pearl Jam high that even Kanye couldn't kill the mood.

Please No...

North Side, South Side...please take this video OUTSIDE...and SHOOT IT. For the love of all things holy, here I was enjoying the weekend massacre of the dreaded White Sox at the hands of my beloved Cubbies when the fine folks at WGN thought that showing this new Chevrolet commercial was a good idea. Not so much. Whomever green lighted this campaign ad deserves a pink slip when he/she gets to work tomorrow morning. First of all, Lou Piniela is OLD. Secondly, Ozzie Guillien can't speak Spanglish much less English (you've got to love a commercial where subtitles are not only a good idea but are mandatory.)

So, if you've had your Immodium today, take this clip for a test drive. Just try not to crap your pants while laughing.

Rap
by bsap11

Thanks Clean Vibes!!!

Time for a break in Slick's Bonnaroo 2008 recap: I just wanted to take a second to acknowledge the hard work and efforts of the Clean Vibes crew who busted their tails 24/7 it seemed to keep the 700 acre farm that the festival is held on clean and livable. Especially the Centeroo area where the concerts take place. Here is video footage from a member of the Clean Vibes that shows just how immense the cleanup job was the morning after the Kanye West show (more on that debacle in Slick's next recap post).

The first two videos are the scene in the massive field in front of the What stage that will show you just how much trash was left behind after a long night of partying.






And here is proof of the awesome job that these guys do. Just look at the difference!!!



Thanks Clean Vibes!!!

What about the people that go both ways?

You know, AC/DC? In sex, we just like to call them greedy. In baseball, however, we call them useful. But it's not often that we see a switch pitcher. In fact, this is the first one I have ever seen. Switch hitters are a dime a dozen and some of them (Mickey Mantle for instance) become Hall of Famers. But switch pitchers? Unheard of and a true delight to watch.

So what's better than a switch pitcher? How about the unintentional comedy that results from a switch hitter and a switch pitcher locked in a battle of wills. Laurel and Hardy would be proud of this little routine. I've got a feeling that they could have kept this up all night. Watch and enjoy.

Bonnaroo, Day 2: Friday

After about four hours of sleep Thursday night, we were awakened by the noise of the neighbors and the heat of the morning sun. We managed to conserve energy by spending most of the morning at the campsite, but we did make a brief excursion into Centeroo to hunt for the not-yet-arrived Pearl Jam collectible concert posters. After a return to camp to eat a quick snack, we headed back into a ridiculous pedestrian gridlock at the Centeroo gates caused by too-slow security checks, until eventually the main gate guards either gave up or were overrun, and the crowd poured in unabated.

Due to this delay, we only caught the second half of the Jose Gonzalez set at This Tent which was well attended for so early in the day, before heading over to see British soul singer Adele (think Amy Winehouse without the crack habit). (Jokers Note: This is the set for the ladies. We did not see a female in the auidence that was not digging Adele's set. Being the domesticated animal that I am, I have to admit that I was too. You may take my man card at any time.) We caught a very few minutes of Tegan and Sara (sisters? lovers? who knows?), then made our first foray into the What Stage field to get an idea of the layout/crowd situation.

Stephen Marley was playing, sticking mostly to his father's greatest hits, and the crowd seemed enthusiastic--though out in the back portion of the enormous pasture, we were surrounded more by frisbee tossers than hardcore music fans. It was at this point that we realized we'd left camp without ponchos, so we made a worthwhile executive decision to walk back out and get them before the Raconteurs show at 5:00.

When we returned, we made our way down the left side of the field (due to the entrances all being on the right side, the left was the best bet for closing in on the main stage) and set up in a good spot to see the Raconteurs. They did not disappoint; Jack White is a maniac on guitar, and his stage-wallowing freakout during "Blue Veins" was reason enough to see the show. It was at this point that Joker and I coined the weekend's catchphrase, "That better be on the DVD." It became a game the rest of the weekend to guess which songs or wacky moments would be used as each artist's primary highlight when the eventual Bonnaroo 2008 DVD ships in December.

After an energetic encore finished with "Carolina Drama," Jack White put in a pitch for the stage's next show--the Chris Rock stand-up comedy performance more than an hour away--and we took advantage of the long break to get some dinner, this time at a Chinese-food booth, and catch a few minutes of Rilo Kiley from outside This Tent (sadly, no close-up views of super-cute Jenny Lewis).

For the Chris Rock and Metallica shows at the What Stage, we didn't prioritize close field position; we were happy to sit back, just inside the secondary PA speakers, and watch the show on the jumbo screens. (A word about the jumbo screens: the camerawork and shot selection used for them was excellent, as assured as a final DVD product would be. I can only assume this feed is what is going into the DVDs, and I could not be happier about that. If the footage from the smaller stages that had no screens even comes close to the What Stage footage, we'll have a great product on our hands come December. Bravo, Bonnaroo!)

Lars Ulrich and Kirk Hammett of Metallica appeared to introduce Rock, whose hour-long comedy set hit all the right notes and kept the enormous audience (likely around 60,000) in stitches throughout. Even a steady drizzle that lasted the entire hour couldn't kill the mood. Rock covered topics from the presidential race to race and gender relations, and even gave us white folks a lesson as to the one time it's okay to utter the "n-word:" Late Christmas Eve, when you're shopping last-minute for that toy your child simply must have, and a black man knocks you out to steal the toy...then you can say it without fear of retribution. But only then. Use this knowledge wisely, White America.

After a break of about twenty minutes--and a notable shrinkage in crowd size, though tens of thousands still remained--Metallica took the stage and proceeded to put on a two-hour show that rocked the socks off all in attendance. Early in the set, James Hetfield asked the audience for a show of hands as to who was attending their first Metallica concert; most hands in the place went up, and the band knew how hard they needed to work. I'm kind of biased, as I like Metallica and had seen them before, but I think they won over the bulk of the crowd with a set heavy on old classics (the only song of more recent vintage than 1991 was "The Memory Remains"), fiery fretwork, strong personality, and a fantastic light/pyrotechnic show that culminated in the intro to "One." Eventually, high-flying rockets were launched from both sides of the massive What Stage:

At the end of the set, Metallica stuck around on stage for several minutes, apparently accepting well-wishes from the loyal crowd, tossing out guitar picks, posing for photos, etc. Truth be told, for a band who seem so surly when singing about "Creeping Death" and the evil Sandman, they're quite a jovial bunch of fan-friendly fellows (and no, I'm not touching the file-sharing issue, which is totally separate).

From What to Which: We made our way to the festival's second stage, as the rain began anew, to see what we could of My Morning Jacket's epic four-hour late-night set. The band was scheduled to play from midnight to three a.m., but wound up going until four o'clock (after allowing for a brief intermission) in increasingly intense rain. We moved on after about forty minutes to find out the contents of this year's "Superjam," a collaboration in The Other Tent that started a half-hour late, and turned out to match internet rumors featuring Les Claypool and the members of Gogol Bordello, but as we headed back to camp we were able to hear MMJ's "One Big Holiday," which featured Metallica's Hammett on guitar. Later, from our campsite, we could hear the excellent selection of soul and funk covers My Morning Jacket was putting on, culminating in Bobby Womack's "Across 110th Street." Eventually, we fell asleep despite ourselves.

We were awakened by noise in the camp area, only to find ourselves each in need of a quick wee-hours pee. While we were up, we encountered our middle-aged neighbor, stumbling out of his flooded tent to proclaim, "I'm drunker than shit!," and heard what appeared to be the opening strains of Motley Crue's "Home Sweet Home." Yes, this was how Louisville's own My Morning Jacket (who, at one point asked the 502 and 615 area codes--Louisville and Nashville, respectively--to "represent") finished what will likely go down in history as their greatest performance ever. To be honest, while the smart play for Joker and me was to get as much rest as possible in anticipation of a long, Pearl Jam-oriented Saturday, the closest thing I have to a regret is not sticking around to see that entire show.

Ahead on Day 3: Joker earns some good Karma, an octogenarian teaches a huge crowd what star power really is, Kanye West earns our ire, and we spend all day baking in the sun to experience the best concert we've ever seen.

Bonnaroo, Day 1: Thursday

Well, here it is folks...part 1 of the breakdown of our experiences at Bonnaroo 2008. As you may have guessed from the few posts we've already put up, we had a terrific time, and have many tales to tell. I figure it's best to break it down on a per-day basis, so we'll start at the beginning:

We left Murfreesboro (thanks go out again to Joker's wife's aunt for putting us up) before 9:00am, stopping at Kroger to ice down the coolers and grab a few final supplies. While there, we saw an RV full of 'Rooers gearing up, and were given a "Bonnaroo!" salute by the bagboy in the parking lot. We headed down US-41 to Manchester, and as soon as we turned off onto Tennessee Route 55, it was time to apply the brake: it was 9:22am, and the line to get in had begun.

The traffic in wasn't terrible; it took us two hours to get to the "tollbooth" checkpoint, and another half-hour or so to get to our campsite, but there was ample people-watching to be had on the road in. Hippies, rednecks, college kids, burnouts...everyone was accounted for. Want to watch people dash off into the roadside woods to pee? You got it. Want to see two Connecticut douches run out of gas and have to push their Lexus the rest of the way into Bonnaroo? Consider it done. And of course, there were plenty of people trying to make a buck, like the folks selling "light up" and glow supplies for the crazy rave kids:

Once inside, we lucked out by being directed to "Camp Darth Vader," one of the closest possible campsites to Centeroo (the main festival grounds). We were but a five-minute walk from the main event, while some poor schmoes would be stuck with more than a forty-five-minute trek. Things were looking up already. They only got better when the guys in the car parked next to us told us they weren't camping by us, but moving to the "tent only" area, giving us more breathing room. The people behind us camped elsewhere, too, so we really got to stretch out, with plenty of room for our sleeper tent and our EZ-Up canopy.

The neighbors at camp were pleasant, though it would turn out that we nearly all kept different hours, making sleep a near-impossibility. On one side of us was the middle-aged guy who came by himself (he would be entertaining throughout the weekend; more on him in later installments). On the other side was the pair of wake'n'bake kids whose entire lives seemed to revolve around pot. Lucky for them, the neighbors behind them were major pot people as well, a late-thirties/early-forties stoner couple who made their own blown-glass one-hitters and toured festival after festival. We were also in proximity to a group of girls from New Jersey, whose ringleader was a Hoban-esque woman in her late twenties; while the stoners were early risers, the Jersey girls were late-night folk (even later than we were).

The drug culture hit us early and often; within ten minutes of having our campsite set up, we were approached by a lovely young woman selling "beautiful, clean ecstasy." Not ten minutes after that, glass-blower guy's brother-in-law came around peddling the pipes (not our scene, but they were nicely crafted). We may have been the only two people on site not to get high all weekend, but hey, if we had, would I be able to give you this much detail?

Once set up, we headed into Centeroo to see what was what. We loaded up on merchandise (t-shirts and posters), returned it all to the car, and headed back for entertainment. After procuring tickets to the first comedy show of the night (Janeane Garofalo, Mike Birbiglia, and Leo Allen), we loaded up on crab bites and settled in for the festival's first band: What Made Milwaukee Famous, performing at "This Tent."

Now, a word about the tent concerts. I had gone in picturing a large club tent, like the Budweiser Supertent at the Kentucky State Fair. But the music tents were actually large pavilions, practically airplane hangars with three open sides. Each could hold several thousand standing-room patrons under cover, and there was ample lawn space for spillover. At each of the most popular tent shows, I'd estimate there were over 10,000 people in attendance.

The band turned in a solid performance, at least until we had to leave early to line up for the comedy show next door. It turned out to be our only excursion into the comedy tent: while the air conditioning and the soft, seat-backed bleachers were a welcome relief, the music from This Tent invaded through the comedy show's thin walls, causing a major distraction for both the patrons and the performers. Allen and Birbiglia were gamers, but Garofalo really had a hard time getting into a groove, and turned in one of the most bizarre, unpleasant performances I've ever seen in comedy. Her humor is all about self-deprecation, but she shifted uncomfortably into self-pity, and eventually found herself begging to be let offstage early. If that's her intended act, it's a weird choice. Otherwise, it seems like maybe we got to see a nervous breakdown in person.

After seeing that show, we wandered past This Tent, where MGMT were playing; we stopped in for a couple of songs, then moved on. At the Troo Music Lounge (a tent more like the state-fair jobs I'd envisioned), we encountered Michigan group Nomo, a jazz/funk/all-around-weirdness ensemble who were really rocking it out. We sampled beers at the Brooers Festival, a collection of microbreweries showing off their wares; Asheville Brewing Company's Ninja Porter became a quick favorite. Eventually, we stopped in at the Karaoke Bay for some live band karaoke. And before you ask, yes, we participated, and as far as we can tell, we rocked it out. We had to sit through some major ups and downs waiting our turn (one guy butchered Pearl Jam's "Alive," another sped through Tom Petty's "Mary Jane's Last Dance" too fast for the band, but one woman put on a solid rendition of Tracy Bonham's "Mother, Mother," and another guy tore it up on "Highway to Hell"), but eventually we gave the people a rendition of Stone Temple Pilots' "Vaseline." Difficult to say whether we nailed it melodically (we had no monitors and couldn't hear ourselves), but we were at least on-tempo and hit the cues. At any rate, we can now claim we "played Bonnaroo" the same year as Pearl Jam.

We paid a brief visit to the Discotheque Arcade to hear the stylings of DJ Quickie Mart (he managed to blend the Zombies' "Time of the Season" with Rob Base's "It Takes Two," so he's aces in my book), had a late-night snack, and hit our last band of the night: Lez Zeppelin, in That Tent.

When I first heard of the all-female Led Zeppelin tribute band on the lineup, I thought it was a novelty; I figured we'd stop in to see what's what and move on. But these ladies rocked. Their sound was faithful to the original material, but singer Sara McClellan has a much different tone to her voice than Robert Plant; she sounds more like Heart's Ann Wilson in her prime. They gave a great overview of the Zep catalogue, including versions of my favorite short Zeppelin song ("The Ocean") and my favorite long one ("In My Time of Dying"). "Since I've Been Loving You" was a definite highlight. Lez Zeppelin would turn out to be our first major rush of the weekend, and were a good way to cap off night one.

Ahead: The two main stages open up on Friday; Joker gets me to enjoy the Raconteurs; we witness what may be the largest stand-up comedy show of all time; Metallica melts everybody's faces off; and My Morning Jacket makes a rainy late night at the campground all the more surreal.

The Curse Returns?

One thing Slick and I noticed during our excursion to the farmlands of Tennessee was just how immense Cubs Nation is. Seriously, I know a whole generation of us grew up watching Sandberg, Davis, Durham, Berryhill, Dunston, Grace, Dawson, Sutcliffe (and the immortal duo of Hector Villaneuva and Doug Dascenzo), but it's amazing to see just how many of your long suffering bretheren exists. Roo was no exception. You couldn't throw a bong without hitting someone where a Cubs hat, shirt, or Jersey. To make things even more satisfying to us Cubs fans, MLB was sponsor of the festival and had a semi set-up to showcase it's authentic merchandise and to give us poor heat stroke induced fools a place to sit in the shade and play MLB 2K8. If you were drunk enough, you could also take hacks in the batting cages, play cornhole with MLB branded sets, or test your arm against the Juggs radar gun. All fun and games, but also a great place to find your fellow Cubs brethren checking in to see what the score was.

Unfortunately, on the drive down to Murfreesboro on Wednesday, our serene drive time was interrupted with the news of Alfonso Soriano breaking his hand. Yeesh. Last night, things went from bad to worse as Big Z (Carlos Zambrano) left the game with the dreaded sore right shoulder. As visions of Mark Prior and Kerry Wood threaten to implode my brain, I am fighting to tell myself to relax. Sore shoulder does not equate medically necessary surgery. Oh wait - this is the CUBS - OF COURSE IT DOES. To make matters worse, we are (as I type this) about to be swept by the Tampa Bay Rays. ARGH!!!!!

So as I searched for a little levity tonight, I came across this wonderful entry for the always fun Uniwatch on ESPN.com. Paul Lukas points out not only do the Cubbies have one of the best looking uniforms in the game, but also the most original. Give it a read - it's worth your time.

And, if you are so inclined, make sure you offer up an extra prayer for our boys in blue. Looks like we are going to need it! Go Cubbies!!!

Peep This

Here are the other two videos that I managed to capture at Bonnaroo 2008. Well, I had a few more, but no worth sharing with the general population due to the shakiness. I wouldn't want to induce vertigo and mass nausea on The Outfield, now would I?

The first video was taken for the wifey, as it is her favorite song from Jack Johnson. This is "Banana Pancakes". Hopefully, you won't be like Slick and feel the need to order a Venti Mocha frappachino after hearing this. According to Slick, watching Jack Johnson at Bonnaroo was like spending 90 minutes in the world's biggest Starbucks!





One of the non-Pearl Jam highlights for me was the stellar, balls to the wall performance of The Raconteurs. Going into Roo, I was already a massive fan, but I think that Jack White, Brendan Benson, and the boys took Slick a little by surprise. This video of their current single, "Salute Your Solution" shows that they can bring the rock and the roll.

Kanye West does not care about stoned people.

As you can tell from Joker's Pearl Jam posts (that was, indeed, a hell of a magical show, and I'll have more words on that later), we managed to survive Bonnaroo. In the coming days, we'll lay out our thoughts, share some photos and video, and try to give you a sense of the experience.

But for now, I need to address the Kanye West situation. As you've no doubt heard by now, Kanye was nearly two hours late for his late-night show at Bonnaroo on Saturday night, whereupon he was booed by the fans still in attendance. The explanation given for his tardiness in the news reports--which is to say, Bonnaroo's official reason--is technical delays in set construction due to Pearl Jam playing nearly an hour beyond their originally scheduled set time. But I'm not sure that can be the entire thing: Pearl Jam went beyond schedule (an unrealistically short schedule, I might add, given their usual concert length) by about fifty minutes, but Kanye was about a hundred minutes late. So I'm not quite buying that.

[Disclaimer: We left once Kanye was an hour late, heading off to see a little of Chali 2na (excellent, by the way) before heading back to camp. So any details I give about West's show are based on news reports, not personal experience.]

Maybe the fault lies with the Bonnaroo promoters for underestimating the time needed to swap out the Jack Johnson/Pearl Jam rigs for Kanye's elaborate equipment. Maybe Kanye's crew underestimated the time, or just did a poor job (though I'm hesitant to blame a road crew; that's a thankless task, and if every other show at Bonnaroo was an indication, crews did an excellent job all weekend to keep things on time, and should be praised for their hard work). Maybe Kanye was being egotistical, waiting out Phil Lesh on the second stage to have the spotlight to himself (the most popular rumor, however unlikely). Maybe Kanye was being a little too particular about the tweaking of his lighting/sound equipment (the story I heard from a low-level Bonnaroo staffer on Sunday).

No matter what caused the delay, the fact is this: Nearly 50,000 people walked over to that field at 2:45 in the morning to see one man do a show. Over the course of two hours, he lost about 20,000 of them, but kept more than half. Yet, due to the extremely scripted nature of his (reportedly very silly) show, he did not address the crowd directly: no "Sorry for the technical difficulties," no "Thanks for staying up," nothing. Just an hour's worth of songs, and a light show ruined by sunup, and Kanye's reputation takes another hit.

Smart play, dude.

More PJ Roo Goodness

Disclaimer - I did not shoot these. While looking at the video I shot of "Life Wasted" on You Tube, I saw this excellent videos of a couple of other seminal moments from the Pearl Jam headlining set at Bonnaroo. Enjoy.

This is a fabulous re-worked version of "W.M.A". What a rarity to hear!



The always great "Crazy Mary" - we all love Boom on the organ.

Awesome, I F'n Shot That!!

My apologies to the Beastie Boys for stealing the title to their live concert video that was compiled from fan filmed footage, but I am so excited to share this with you. This is footage from Pearl Jam's first encore shot with my own camera (God bless my Canon!). This video footage was shot completely by me and shows just how good our positions were for the show (and they damn well better be given the 8 hours of standing & sitting in the blistering Tennessee sun that we endured to be there!)

When you watch this footage, you can see just how emotional and into it Eddie was all night long. Slick and I swear that if he could have found something to climb and jump from, he would have done it in a heart beat. And this just goes to show you that PJ is certifiably the greatest rock and roll band on the planet (sorry U2!)



Tell me what you think in the comments section. Tomorrow, look for my videos from The Raconteurs and Jack Johnson!

He's got "It"

While we wait for both Slick's magmum opus on Bonnaroo and for Youtube to finally post my concert footage, I thought we would tide ourselves over with an oldie but a goodie...

Be Patient...

For all of you wondering where the Bonnaroo recap is, what with all of the incessant hype that led up to Slick and my little jaunt into the Tennessee farmland - please be patient. We are running on less than optimal sleep and will be with you shortly!

Live from Bonnaroo

Well, we've hit an internet cafe for likely our only time all weekend, and thought we'd give a quick update of Day 1 so far: Great campsite (extra room because neighbors moved to the tent-only area after parking their car), close to the main concert/festival area; smaller-scale live music--some good (What Made Milwaukee Famous, Nomo, K'Naan), some less enthralling (Battles); a karaoke performance by the two of us, backed by a live band, singing STP's "Vaseline"; a comedy show/public nervous breakdown by Janeane Garofalo; and firedancers doing amazing things with flame.

And before bedtime, we're heading over to see the all-lesbian Led Zeppelin tribute band, "Lez Zeppelin."

This joint is craaaaazy.

Foo Zeppelin

Apparently, beloved Outfield faves Foo Fighters, who are even bigger in Britain than they are here in the states, played back-to-back nights at Wembley Stadium this weekend, to crowds of about 86,000. And as a special treat, they were joined onstage by Led Zeppelin's Jimmy Page and John Paul Jones. Unbelievable.

Enjoy some "Blair Witch" style video footage shot from the nosebleeds:





If there are any collaborations at Bonnaroo this weekend that are one percent as cool as that one, we'll be two happy bloggers come Monday!

For Our Loyal College Following

Best commercial in a long, long time. Check out Amp's Walk of No Shame website where you can download the lyrics and the song in MP3 format, if you feel so inclined.

Slick Calls Bullshit!

This is exactly why KISS will never - EVER - get into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. That and a lack of any discernable talent.

Apparently, Gene Simmons and Paul Stanley are headed for the green pastures of Shady Acres nursing home, but, before they go, they are casting one last pox upon society in the form of a new KISS. And they want to compile these new minions of hell while broadcasting their efforts to the world on TV. Yeah, this is a great idea. Because America loved the INXS Rock Star show sooooo much that we wanted one for KISS. Hey Gene - how's this working out for INXS. Can anyone out there other than Slick actually remember just who in the hell won that show?

And Slick thinks this "retirement" talk will quickly fade to black as soon as NO ONE shows up to see this new KISS. So true.

Click here to read the full article

This is me every Monday

Enjoy more schizophrenic madness at Garfield Minus Garfield.

Why is this Man Smiling???

Good lord, man - wipe that stupid ass grin off of your face! Never have I seen a celebrity or athlete look so ridiculously happy in a booking photo. You would think that Chicago Bears running back Cedric Benson would look pissed or ashamed, but I guess remorse is not in his vocabulary. Other words not in his vocabulary - sobriety, intelligence, honor, toughness, heart. Best known for his inability to stay on his feet while being arm tackled, I think it is safe to say that Benson's days as a Chicago Bear are over following last night's arrest for drunken driving in Austin, Texas.

We here at the Outfield are ardent Bears supporters (along with Slick's Tennessee Titans), but c'mon - Benson has got to go. Bears GM Jerry Angelo clearly swung for the fences and whiffed BIG TIME when he drafted Benson in the Top 5 a couple of years ago. The successor to Ricky Williams at Texas, Benson was a heck of a tailback during his college career. But, like Williams, the kid just never grew up. Is adulthood that big of a phobia for Longhorn players? Is being a man a chore, because I think it's pretty damn easy especially when you get to play football and make millions for a living. Perhaps Benson would enjoy riding on the back of a garbage truck 50 hours a week or waiting tables for $2.12 an hour plus tips, because that's where his career path is heading.

So wipe that stupid ass grin off of your face son. Grow up. Or least go back to Austin and stop sullying my Bears news on a weekly basis. We've got enough trouble out of the players who actually succeed on the field (thanks Urlacher and Briggs).

UPDATE: The fine folks over at Tirico Suave had this little gem that I thought I would share. If you enjoyed this, make sure you click through to their site for a couple of more laughs.

Look at the Cannon on Mrs. Cannon

For the record, here are the things that I know about Mariah Carey:

1) Most women hate her, even if they like her music.

2) Most men lust for her, even if they hate her music.

3) Most people I know hate her music, but still know the words to at least a couple of her songs.

4) I loved her when she was bat-shit crazy and passing out ice cream on TRL a couple of years ago.

5) My dog will leave the room when she hears Mariah hit those high notes that have become her trademark.

Well, it seems that it is time to add one more thing to the list. Mariah Carey, diva extradinaire and cradle of love rocker (you go Nick Cannon! Pssst - how did you manage to snag her without a prenup???) has long been looking for a baseball team that will allow her to throw out the first pitch. Problem is, no one in MLB will allow her to assume these ceremonial duties without agreeing to sing the national anthem before the game. (Even though I can't figure out why not since it is free publicity).

So what's Ms. Carey-Cannon do? She gets a Japanese baseball team to let her "throw" out the first pitch, and, I have to admit, I am SO GLAD that they did. What an arm! Even my 3 year old throws better, but at least Mariah looks better in heels.

Enjoy the hilarity.

Who could possibly have foreseen that outcome?

ESPN.com has a terrific article up right now about the infamous 10-Cent Beer Night promotion held by the Cleveland Indians thirty-four years ago today. I had long heard of the incident, but had never heard this many details. It's a fascinating read.

And to think, we were shocked and appalled at the NBA's "Artest Melee" a few years back. This has that beat by a longshot. Billy Martin charging out of the dugout with a fungo bat to protect his player? Priceless.

Time to Break Out the Short Shorts

I was going to do this myself, but it seems that life and it's never ending series of challenges has removed most of my free time recently. But, never fear, Deadspin is here and they beat me to it anyway! Check out this piece from Deadspin about the history of the Celtics/Lakers rivalry.



You know back a couple of weeks ago when the Chicago Bulls conveniently parlayed their long shot odds into winning the top draft choice in the draft lottery, I had to break out the conspiracy theory. Now, things are coming into full bloom as Thursday approaches and David Stern and ABC finally can give America a NBA finals that might just actually be watched. Bring on the Lakers vs. the Celtics! Just keep the short shorts in the closet.








As we saw during the "80's Night" promotion at Staples Center this year (and against the Celtics to boot), this is just ill advised. To quote mid-90's "Saturday Night Live" - "Who are the ad wizards who came up with this one?"

Listen Up

So all of you true music fans know that Tuesday is new release day in the CD sales biz, and, we here at the Outfield will try to pass on the best of the best when we see it. This Tuesday, the new eponymous album from Weezer (lovingly labeled "The Red Album" by most fans and critics) is the big release. We would be remiss if we didn't point out that the crazy folks over at Circuit City are offering the disc up for the low, low price of $5.99. You just can't beat that. So do your best to ignore the horrible customer service that Circuit City offers and let them help you with your cheap shit.

To celebrate the release of the new Weezer disc, I thought I would give you a little "Pork & Beans" – the first single off of The Red Album. I know what you are saying – didn't they just do an entry about this song and video? Well yes, yes we did. HOWEVER, I just can't get the song out of my head. And for those of you who know me, you are aware that is a massive space to have a tune bouncing around in. To make things more interesting, I am also serving up a side portion of other songs that I either can't get enough of, can't seem to get away from, or a mixture of both.

Let's start out with our "Pork & Beans" appetizer:

For the second course, let's serve up a couple of Apples -- Apple iTunes songs that is. If you own a TV, then you know you cannot escape these two songs. This first song is one of the new tracks from Mr. Gwyneth Paltrow's band, Coldplay – "Viva La Vida". I think it's catchy and extremely well done, plus it shows a nice evolution from the band. Hopefully you will agree. To the rest of you, it's probably how you know that I am gay.

Coldplay – "Viva La Vida"

The other apple is a nice sweet European variety, courtesy of the wonderfully named The Ting-Tings. This is a band that my wife insisted that I invented just to confuse her. The surprise was on her when she actually recognized the song and had to admit that she liked it. Who knew the power of The Ting Tings?

The Ting Tings - "Shut Up and Let Me Go"

This next song is EVERYWHERE. Plus, this is another band that my wife insisted was a figment of my overactive imagination – The Flobots. Viva the genre of intellectual, white boy rap!

The Flobots – "Handlebars"



One of the bands that consume the bloggers is The Black Kids. And, you might easily assume, they are not black. Well, not all of them. But they sound very British and very 80's retro (too bad the are young and from Jacksonville FLORIDA). I defy you not to find yourself envisioning the happiest Robert Smith you can when you hear this and try to keep your toes from tapping.

The Black Kids – "I'm Not Gonna Teach Your Boyfriend How to Dance with You."

Speaking of Robert Smith, this is my favorite Cure song in a long, long time. I have grown to appreciate them more in my old age, and this song just rocks. This is a live version of a song that I have never heard on the radio or seen on the TV outside of "Later…with Jools Holland."

The Cure – "alt.end"

This next song comes from the next hottest thing to come out of the British soul scene. And unlike Amy Winehouse, she really is black (and mostly drug free, I would imagine). Her name is Estelle and she is joined on this track by Mr. Kanye West (maybe you've heard of him?)

Estelle – American Boy

Last but not least, let's go back to the tried and true, one of the absolute best bands in the world – Pearl Jam. This is an absolute killer cover of the Thin Lizzy classic "The Boys are Back in Town". After all, the boys will be back in town in less than two weeks when Slick and I catch them headlining Bonnaroo.

Pearl Jam - "The Boys are Back in Town"

Top 5: Rounding the Bases!

Well, it's late spring, the days are getting hotter, people are showing more skin, and there's baseball everywhere you turn. Heck, our beloved Cubbies are sitting on the best record in baseball right now! Clearly, there's something in the air.

So why not...the return of the Top 5 list? And why not combine two great summertime activities--baseball and making out?

Okay, here's how it works (thanks to Joker for the idea way back when): I'll list five songs, ranked according to the classic "baseball as sexual metaphor" round-the-bases scale, with the fifth spot reserved for an absolute strikeout song. Feel free to suggest your own listings in the comments. Here we go:

First Base: Edwin McCain, "One Thing Left to Do" This little gem, from McCain's 2001 album Far From Over, is a jazzy little tale about picking up a woman in a bar, then doing the flirtatious dance to get her home with you for the night. The slinky guitar is a come-on, the saxophone a seduction, and McCain trades his signature shouts for a late-night, beer-soaked growl as he tries to convince the girl he's not just after one thing (though he clearly totally is). The song will stall out at first base for most listeners, though, as they start to laugh at his late-song suggestions for the "one thing left to do:" pay the bar tab, grab some Waffle House, "call up one of your girlfriends, and...wait, wait, I was just kiddin'!" Still, it's a heck of an icebreaker.

Second Base: U2, "Love Comes Tumbling" Sure, "With or Without You" is the safer choice, and has probably resulted in a lot more babies being born (quite possibly the majority of 20-year-olds in this country today were conceived to this song, in fact), but this lesser-known track, an Unforgettable Fire outtake repurposed on the Wide Awake in America EP, has a sort of sultry, late-night-rolling-around-in-bed quality to it that I've always liked. It's maybe a little too eighties, and doesn't really sound like U2 that much, but it's a nice bit of soundtrack to some light fooling around.

Third Base: Garbage, "Thirteen" The original version of this song, by Big Star (a band that radio listeners don't know, but that every other band loved), was a sweet little ode to schoolboy crushes, set against cutesy guitars and featuring lines about the Friday night dance and the local swimming pool. The song is so innocuous that it has been used on two sitcoms, as the soundtrack for Eric's and Donna's breakup on That 70's Show and Ted's cutesy two-minute date on How I Met Your Mother. But in the hands of Garbage, layered with synth effects and a looping bass beat, as sung by the smoky, hot-sex-on-a-platter voice of Shirley Manson, this is a song that will engender a stand-up triple any night of the week. I saw the band do this live before I'd ever heard the recorded version (released only as a B-side), and I'm pretty sure I tried to make out with myself in the middle of the concert.

All the Way Home: Maxwell, "Whenever Wherever Whatever" Put simply, if you're not both naked by the end of this song...well, it just ain't ever gonna happen.

The Strikeout: Snoop Doggy Dogg (featuring Nate Dogg, Kurupt, and Warren G), "Ain't No Fun (If the Homies Can't Have None)" This gem of a hip-hop song--in my opinion, the sheer acme of the West Coast sound--has it all: a danceable, grindable beat, a groovy funk guitar, the smooth R&B-tinged vocals of Nate Dogg, and three brief but clever rap verses by Snoop, Kurupt, and Warren G. You could probably make out to this...unless you're paying attention to the lyrics. This is also, quite possibly, the most misogynist song ever put to tape. I won't quote lyrics here (this is a family site, after all), but the gist is this: "I have enjoyed sexual relations with you in the past, madam, but I have grown bored and would like to move on. However, I do insist that you have sex with all of my friends, lest they get upset with me for not sharing your fine services with them, and I do expect you to service them with a smile on your face. Now, get to it." This--in the more graphic terms used by the artists--will probably send the woman you're with out the door fast enough to leave one of those little Roadrunner dust clouds behind. However...if you find a woman who hears the lyrics, is okay with them, and still sleeps with you, you should shower immediately, and call a physician posthaste.