DAY THREERather than swim another day in the micro pool I’ve made point to visit the Palm Springs aquatic center I discovered online prior to my trip. Dahli drops me off so she can visit two of her daughters here with friends for the show as well.
23 lanes, open air changing rooms and showers. Last time I saw a pool this awesome was somewhere in Australia. I swim much too long and too far, don’t wanna stop. It’s hot and wonderful and afterwards Dahli gets me and we get excellent coffee at the café where the fags hang out and the counterperson is a foxy tranny.
We eat authentic Mexican lunch and head to the show. Today is more crowded that ever and I’m speculating there’s at least a 60,000 people here today most of them primarily here to see a reunited Rage Against The Machine. I could care less about RATM, I’m here for the reunited Crowed House and reunited Happy Mondays. Willie Nelson, which everyone loves even if they don’t love his music, soothes the crowd of what appears to be made up of primarily potentially violent men, some of which appear to have been incarcerated at one time or another. The vibe is decidedly heavy.
Crowded House seems out of place, and since most of the audience at the large stage could care less as they wait for RATM. One wonders what the promoters were thinking when they did the line-up for the main stage. This was once a band that was probably one of the most popular live acts in the world, but I imagine most of this audience is completely unfamiliar with their music. Someone throws a bottle at Neil Finn and hits him in the chest, he loses his microphone. You can tell he’s pissed but he makes a joke about it. They never really quite get the stage presence right, it’s seems awkward and unfunny, not like him at all. I feel sorry for them. We leave early to catch some of Air’s show but they go on so late I’m worried I’ll miss the reunited Happy Mondays, though I’ve been informed by Dahli’s daughter’s boyfriend that Bez has been denied a visa (big surprise) due to some prior drug dealing conviction. I eat corn. The Sahara tent is hardly filled at all, plenty of room to dance with enough Brits and Scots for all. Some old man with a cane introduces the band and it’s soon clear Shaun Ryder is now probably the worst frontman ever, but he gets all the cheers even if all he’s doing is half-heartedly singing, smoking and complaining about the sound (“we shouldn’t have even got a clap on that one as lousy at it was”). Then something happens, the sound gets fixed, Ryder starts enjoying himself and guests start popping up, even some guy try to take Bez’s role as off-leash dance animal, and the band is fucking great, After they set the RATM show has started and the crowd is so large it threatens to merge with entrance. We leave early and find out later Dahli’s daughter didn’t make it home until after 4am, though we in the jacuzzi by midnight.
23 lanes, open air changing rooms and showers. Last time I saw a pool this awesome was somewhere in Australia. I swim much too long and too far, don’t wanna stop. It’s hot and wonderful and afterwards Dahli gets me and we get excellent coffee at the café where the fags hang out and the counterperson is a foxy tranny.
We eat authentic Mexican lunch and head to the show. Today is more crowded that ever and I’m speculating there’s at least a 60,000 people here today most of them primarily here to see a reunited Rage Against The Machine. I could care less about RATM, I’m here for the reunited Crowed House and reunited Happy Mondays. Willie Nelson, which everyone loves even if they don’t love his music, soothes the crowd of what appears to be made up of primarily potentially violent men, some of which appear to have been incarcerated at one time or another. The vibe is decidedly heavy.
Crowded House seems out of place, and since most of the audience at the large stage could care less as they wait for RATM. One wonders what the promoters were thinking when they did the line-up for the main stage. This was once a band that was probably one of the most popular live acts in the world, but I imagine most of this audience is completely unfamiliar with their music. Someone throws a bottle at Neil Finn and hits him in the chest, he loses his microphone. You can tell he’s pissed but he makes a joke about it. They never really quite get the stage presence right, it’s seems awkward and unfunny, not like him at all. I feel sorry for them. We leave early to catch some of Air’s show but they go on so late I’m worried I’ll miss the reunited Happy Mondays, though I’ve been informed by Dahli’s daughter’s boyfriend that Bez has been denied a visa (big surprise) due to some prior drug dealing conviction. I eat corn. The Sahara tent is hardly filled at all, plenty of room to dance with enough Brits and Scots for all. Some old man with a cane introduces the band and it’s soon clear Shaun Ryder is now probably the worst frontman ever, but he gets all the cheers even if all he’s doing is half-heartedly singing, smoking and complaining about the sound (“we shouldn’t have even got a clap on that one as lousy at it was”). Then something happens, the sound gets fixed, Ryder starts enjoying himself and guests start popping up, even some guy try to take Bez’s role as off-leash dance animal, and the band is fucking great, After they set the RATM show has started and the crowd is so large it threatens to merge with entrance. We leave early and find out later Dahli’s daughter didn’t make it home until after 4am, though we in the jacuzzi by midnight.
posted by Stewart A. Williams at
9:35 PM
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