Being photographer at a major musical event should be considered a chance to break through in the field...if you are a trained photographer. I am not. I took the opportunity to see a free show with lots of bands and only had to take a bunch of pictures. Some of which actually even look professional. Enough about that, though. You can look at them throughout the magazine. The experience was much more entertaining. While they say a picture is worth a thousand words, they are probably not the words I wanted to say so I better just write them down instead.
My basic assignment was to take pictures of the main stage bands during their first three songs. In that time, I was closer to each band than the thousands that paid to get in. After the three songs, I was directed out of the `photo pit' and left to fend for myself. I could have opted to hang around the press area with shelter from the sun, but all of the people there were just waiting for somebody famous to sit down and chat (no one famous ever did, it was too hot-ed). This did not appeal to me so I wandered around to see what the under card of Lollapalooza had to offer.
As far as merchandise goes, I decided to save my cash. The choices of beads, sunglasses, tarot card readings, and t-shirts left me to believe I was in a cheesy version of a flea market with nothing original. There was a magazine stand with interesting choices, but I think that it would have helped if Lies had been a choice. Also, the crowd did not seem the type that enjoyed reading long sentences. Although I could have gotten my nipples pierced, the thought of having a hole in my breast makes me feel like Smog in The Hobbit (see title). My God, even a thrush noticed his hole, and, in the end, my body was denied a new orifice. Large Cokes were the only items I purchased. Sorry, I just could not break down enough to pay five dollars for a medium cup of Bud. Maybe being the media does make you elitist.
After wading through the money sucker, I found the Lab stage. This stage held local and regional bands. While Phoenix is not known for the best music scene (remember Gin Blossoms?), this stage kept my interest on several occasions. In fact, the only CD I purchased that day was a local ska band called Kongo Shock. If you ever want to run in place, ska is the music to be playing. In addition, the Lab had belly dancers, hard rock with an oil barrel used as an instrument, and a hint of rock-a-billy. All in all, it was a nice blend and diversion from the main acts, but it did not stop there.
The second stage also offered a nice blend of music ranging from sad rock to hip hop to Mike Watt. While the big MW (not our esteemed editor) had both the biggest audience and approval of the second stage acts, the winner for me was The Roots. The best way to hear and play rap, in my opinion, is when the guys have both lyrical and musical ability. This group did. With the exception of the keybordist, the instrumentalism was just as entertaining as the rapping. Since the lead singer said the roots of The Roots was the bass, the trunk definitely had to be the drummer. To say he ripped it up would be an understatement. I will just say that in the 110 degree weather the wind he created was much appreciated. Unfortunately, I missed Huh because of Cypress Hill, but I heard from another photographer that they tore up the stage as well. Sometimes, there is just too much music to get to.
While my musical entertainment came from all stages, my nonmusical ones were spent during the time allotted in the photo pit. With the Jesus Lizard singer jumping all over the stunned crowd during the second set, I knew it was going to be an interesting day. At the beginning of Cypress Hill's set, the detachable chairs which were directly in front of the stage got picked up by the rushing crowd and thrown into the photo pit. I smiled at most of this because the crowd was finally getting into the show. Other photographers had a look of fear on their faces, but they should have known the risks of being there. There's nothing like the sound of chairs crashing at a concert. Sounds like...enthusiasm. Robert Duvall would be proud of me.
Another amusing part of being in the photo pit was taking pictures of the crowd. It is amazing that no matter who you are or what publication you work for, people will still try their hardest to get in the picture. Trust me, making a blow job face does not endure you enough for me to take a picture of you. It was nice, however, to talk with the Lollapoli (isn't that the correct plural spelling) before the bands came on. One guy even said right before Sonic Youth came on "Hey, you're the coolest photo guy out here. I've seen you groovin' to the bands all day," and we shared a bonding high five. It at least beats a blow job face.
For me, the whole event was about music and getting my fill. Even if I had shelled out forty bucks, I feel I would gotten my money's worth in the ten hours of tunes which were scattered throughout Desert Sky. Unfortunately, I saw a lot more people who just wanted to show off the new Weezer shirt they got last month. I did not know there were that many people in the world like that. It's scary.
Even though my job at this event was to have a good eye and push a button, what made the experience special is that I used my ears. I don't think the pictures I took said those thousand words, did they?
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