Coachella woes.

For the past six “last weekends in April” I’ve attend that party in the desert: Coachella.

But this year I have cashed in one weekend of excellent fun in California, for a steady flow of awesome fun in Brooklyn.

But at this moment I am feeling pangs of jealousy towards those lucky enough to go to the premier music festival in North America.

If I were there I’d see these artists.

I’ve Starred the REALLY IMPORTANT ones.



Friday:

**Aphex Twin 8-9 Sahara
Dan Deacon 4-5 Gobi
Dan le sac Scroobius Pip 630-720 Gobi
Mum 550- 645 Mojave
Fatboy slim 1045 Sahara

Saturday:
Kavinsky 220-310 Sahara
**MGMT 340-430 Mojave
Rilo Kiley 720-810 Outdoor
Hot Chip 610-7 Sahara
Kraftwerk 750 - 850 Main
Calvin harris 955-1045 Gobi
**120 days 3-345 Gobi

Sunday
Austin tv (Mexican instrumental post-rock) 1-145 Main
Cool Kids 2-240 Main
I'm from Barrcelona 245-330 Mojave

GREAT ELECTRO LINEUP
**Modeselektor 8-9 Sahara
Simian 9-950 Sahara
Chromeo 10-1050 Sahara
Justice 11 Sahara

Coachella 2008!

It's easier to read: andamos armados

Yet Another Latino Music Festival

I won tickets from Nacional Records to see Aterciopelados at a Bacardi sponsored festival on Olvera street. We were the only Gringos in the audience, but I've been to so many Latin Music Festivals that I feel like I totally fit in.

Aterciopelados were good. Then we saw Maldita Vecinidad, which look like they were transported to downtown Los Angeles from 1995. They have the sound of Sugar Ray with the style of The Cherry Poppin' Daddies. I didn't dig it that much.

Then Calle 13 (trece) performed. I knew that they were reggaeton, which is something I tend to despise. I thought they were the band that has a chorus that is the ringtone from an old model Nokia. It turns out that they aren't that group. (It's Kumbia Kings, they have a promotions deal with Burger King en serio.)

Calle 13 performs with a full band that looks out of place together. They have a Jewish Hipster looking Trombonist, Afro-Cuban Percussionists, a Vincent Gallo look-alike on synths, a cute M.I.A. looking backup singer, and the lead singer has all sorts of designs in his hair. Half the band wasn't wearing a shirt.

I have to say, I expected to hate this band, but they put on an excellent show. I unironically love Calle 13. There is hope for Reggaeton.

Also the MC for the festival was trying to kill time so he was like: Where are all my Virgos at? Where are all my Aries at? Where are all my Cancers at? Where are all my people affected by Cancer at? Where are all my people affected by the tragedies of March 3, 2011 at? Demasiado Temprano? Too soon?

A homeless man came up to me asking for a Bacon-wrapped hot dog. He said that the pickings were slim because Latino crowds don't tend to give money to the homeless? He used a racist word. Is he being racist, or is he just doing market research. MARKET RESEARCH FROM THE STREETS SON!

Detour Festival LA // Hipster 2007 vs Hip Hopper 1987

I went to the Detour Festival. Oh man would it have been awkward if I went to a private high school in Los Angeles. EVERYONE was there.

I had fun listening to all those French DJs, while trying to maintain a buzz from overpriced beer.

I guess the coolest thing was that I walked to the subway from my house. This is a revolutionary act in Los Angeles. It's like that song "Nobody Walks in LA," but the opposite.

I really liked the rap group Cool Kids. They are black hipsters taking it back to 1988. I am not sure if it was the case of black people appropriating white people appropriating black people, but something post-modern was certainly going on.

It seems like contemporary white hipster style is similar to 1980s black hip hop style.

Time machines I guess.

Today I went off-site horse betting with my grandpa. His technique is to choose the jockey not the horse. Victor Espinoza, for life. My grandma told me that I should get a job at In-N-Out burger, because that's her favorite hamburger, and she's looking for kick backs.

Detour

I believe that I will be attending the Detour Music Festival in Los Angeles next weekend because I love the John Carpenter-esque stylings of electronic musician Kavinsky. Justice and Bloc Party will be there too. You should come too, I think it's 35$ before service charges.

San Francisco Festivities

On Saturday afternoon I walked around San Francisco. We walked from Hayes Valley to the Mission. The sketchy parts of the city happen abruptly. It's like Boom, now I feel uncomfortable. I saw all of the things that would cause somebody to say "this is sketchy", though each of them individually might elicit a similar response. Crazy homeless people, prostitutes, public urination, and several broad day light drug deals.

On the way home I found a box that had over one thousand business cards for a Mexican clown from Fresno named Payasito Caramelo. They were just sitting on a mailbox. I am going to get some labels with my information and use these as my business cards. No, we do not "regalamos globos" any more, I'm sorry.

I took a nap.

Afterwards, we went to check out Love Fest, a rave in the civic center. From a management perspective it was poorly run, but from a festival-goer standpoint it was awesome. Nobody checked our brown paper bags and there weren't that many security guards. We met up with friends and danced around. Earlier in the day, there was a parade with disco floats, they all met up at the civic center and were pumping loud music. You had to get close to the floats or you would be dancing to trance, when the float you were supposed to be at was clearly playing techno.

I saw more broad day light drug deals, this time it was probably ecstasy and not crack.

There were some speakers set up in the middle of the park, with a middle finger hanging over them that said "FUCK CORPORATE PARTIES." They were playing music that was terrible, but in the best possible way, it was like digital hardcore noise. The beats were so fast, glitchy, and gritty. I rocked out hard to that.

Then we danced for forty five minutes to an extended version of one Daft Punk song.

On the way out a girl commented on my Manu Chao t-shirt, and within minutes we all left to find a bar, and then a dance party at my friend's house.

We bought beers and tiny raspberry shots of vodka (1$) at a liquor store and went to the dance party.

The dance party consisted of all the people we were with dancing to songs by Boyz II Men and The Pixies. As we were trying to leave, our new friend got stuck in the bathroom, in one of those weird I'm a drunk girl who cries about not being able to throw up ways. Oh yeah it was 9:30.

We found that girl a cab ride home. Then we walked around searching for another ride. The cab driver was clearly Sikh, but he told us his name was Adalberto, and pretended to speak Spanish. He didn't understand my Spanish, and admitted that he was really from Punjab. He talked shit about the craziest cab driver I've ever known, a guy who claimed to be a member of the traveling cast of Phantom of the Opera. Adalberto was an excellent driver, in that he was awesome, but he still drove extra distances to keep the meter running.

We ended up at a bar in the North Beach. It was a fratty-yuppie bar that was going to charge five dollars for men and zero dollars for women. I said he meant they were going to be charging me and my friend Adrienne $2.50 each. Some girl in line thought that was funny.

Luckily the friend we were waiting for showed up, and took us to a bar that looked French or was just designed by the people behind the Mimi's Cafe chain. I was excited because I saved $2.50, and I was able to pee. All I'm saying is that at its fullest, my bladder can hold ninety seconds worth of urine.

I continued the conversation with an English guy about the similarities between British and Jewish American humor. We had never spoken before, but I have had this conversation dozens of times with other Britons. I talked to him as if he was aware of what I was talking about. Incidentally he didn't call me out on my belligerence when I said provocative things like "I've never met a British person who does not think that they are funny." He was actually interested when I noted that both Jewish and British humor is self-deprecating and relies on awkwardness. But then a girl with tattoos sat next to me, and I lost my train of thought.

The cab ride back amounted to me yelling things out the window at other cars.

I think I kept semi-earnestly yelling: "Throw Bombs at White People" and "Free Eggplant Parmesan." The cab driver yelled out "Free Chicken Tikka Masala." We got into a shouting match, not with each other, but just to see who could shout out weirder things.

After four days of excessive drinking I got to the Oakland airport, with every other weekend vacationer. The line was terrible, but I was able to circumvent one of the queues, because I didn't check any bags. I finally got through security, toothpasteless, but still alive.

I think that the real terrorism is having to spend two hours waiting in line for a flight that is forty-five minutes.

I arrived at home to start another week of unemployment, but I don't even get paid for it.

Another Latino Music Festival

This weekend I went to a Antidoto Music festival at the Greek Theater in LA. It was all Latino bands, and all Latino people. It was like a music festival in Latin America, but for some reason this time I didn't try to sneak backstage. (Though for a second I was in the press area.) My friend Shannon won tickets to the show. They seated every ticket winner in a row in the exact center of the venue.

We became friends with the gay couple who sat next to us, but only after we drank their wine without them knowing. They then proceeded to serve us wine. It was a pretty good deal, steal a strangers wine, and then accept it as a gift later on. We walked with the gays down to an atrium where they saw a television camera and tried to become stars. The camera wasn't on. There was a girl standing nearby, who went to my university. I didn't know her, I just saw her license plate frame when she parked in front of us.

We all huddled around, as they laughed at my usage of Mexican slang. She thought I had memorized quotes and didn't know what I was saying.

"Pinche Gringo Punatero"
"Did somebody call you that?"
"No, I just really like Molotov."

That joke would make you laugh, if you listened to the infectious rock of Mexican rockers, Molotov.

We became a group and walked back to the center.

I tried to talk more slang to the girl, but her friend, with upside down ears, kept getting in the way. One of the gays got so drunk they tried to leave. But they were in Stack Parking, so they couldn't leave until after the show. So one fell asleep in the car, and the other came back and brought us bottles of water.

At some point I got involved in a conga line that circumnavigated the concert.

Earlier, we had a nice meal of chili fries and chardonnay.

Later our group disintegrated, and it was just me and Shannon. We saw our favorite performer Julieta Venegas. I'd say I'm not that in-tune with popular culture, but if I had to pick one celebrity that I have an unrequited love for, it is certainly this Mexican pop sensation. She is pretty and smart and into werewolves. She gives me butterflies and shit. (Ella me da mariposas y mierda)

At the end of her set they cut the sound, and I was left singing alone. People stared at me. I think they were simultaneously impressed by my knowledge of her lyrics and my vocal butchering of her song.

Anyway, the whole concert was a delightful time. I'd like to get more involved in the indie latin scene. I'll be like the only dude that isn't into Morrissey.

Coachella

I'm leaving the country this weekend.

I'm headed to Coachella in those United States.

I'm going with my entire family.

My biggest hope is to have my mom sit through an entire Peaches set.

If you want to meet up I'll be seeing the following acts. I'll be the guy with sand all over his face.

FRIDAY

DJ Shadow
Arctic Monkeys
Julieta Venegas
Comedians of Comedy
Of Montreal
El-P

SATURDAY

Hot Chip
Ghostface
Girltalk
Arcade Fire
Peter Bjorn and John

SUNDAY

Manu Chao
Air
Explosions in the Sky
CSS
Rage Against the Machine
The Coup
Klaxons

I reckon that each of these bands will be playing at the same time.

Latin American Music Festival Sneakery Volume III

We last left our hero, Joshua Heller, at Estadio Azteca in Mexico City. He effectively hustled his way backstage at Corona Music Festival in November. Nearly nine months prior he used a similar technique of fake Spanish and walking through barricades with utter confidence at Sonar Electronic Music Festival Buenos Aires.

Today at Parque Alameda Poniente in Santa Fe, Mexico City, Heller attempted a similar mission. Though he bought tickets for the MX Beat two weeks ago, he failed to locate his tickets.

"I thought I left them at my aunt's house" he said "but when I went there to check they were missing."

"Fuck" he thought.

"Fuck" indeed. Wiithin moments of not finding the tickets, Heller got down to some hardcore schemery.

"This morning I researched the names of publicists for the bands that would be performing today. I created a story about how I was supposed to be in Austin for SXSW, but that at the last minute my boss at Village Voice Media told me I had to be on the red eye to Mexico City. We got in this morning. We are tired, and we need to do a piece on hip Mexico City."

A pretty solid story. After a long cab ride Heller and his acquaintence Jordie arrived at Parque Alameda Poniente along with friends that did not lose their tickets.

Heller took initiative asking where he could locate the "Press" booth. He was directed to a woman with a radio. She called someone over to explain to Heller, that there was no press booth, as this was an event sponsored by Marlboro, and they did not want any media present at their concert.

"I understand, but is there anything you can do? We just flew in from Los Angeles."

The convincing was not effective against, Roberto, he stood to his guns, but in a very polite manner.

"Had we credentials identifying ourselves as actual employees of Village Voice Media, the scheme may have yielded success."

So instead Heller and Jordie went to the mall. They ate authentic burritos, as authentic as burritos at a mall in Mexico City can be. Afterwards they took a bus back to where they were staying, ate some churros, and took a nap.

Jordie described the overall experience in an optimistic way.

"See you don't need alcohol or music to have a good time, sometimes a little rain, bus rides, churros, and good company will do the trick."

Heller sort of agreed.

Cervantino

On friday morning before I went to school. I tried to cut my hair into one of those subtle-euro mullet things... but it now just looks like I'm balding. It is pretty sweet though.

After school Zach and I, went with our neighbor and her boyfriend to Guanajuato. It is several hours to the rest, depending on how many times your car breaks down (twice on the way there, three times on the way back.) We decided to go to Guanajuato this weekend because it was Cervantino, a thirty-four year old festival celebrating the works of Spanish writer Miguel de Cervantes. There is like music, theater, and dance... It has little to do with Cervantes today, more than being a quixotic good-time. On the ride we were able to drink beers in the car, not because it's legal, but because you can do whatever you want in Mexico.

We arrived in Guanajuato at 9pm. We found a campsite and set up. The temperature was so comfortable, I considered not taking a jacket. We walked into town, and then were hit by a huge storm... the jacket I brought wasn't waterproof... but it wasn't cold so I didn't catch influenza.

The walk into the center was one of the most cinematic things I've ever seen outside of a movie theater. There was a huge baloon with the face of the moon on it, carrying a girl into the sky. Music was playing and somebody was reading a monologue that I couldn't understand. Images were being projected onto water flowing from a fountain... there were hundreds of people, it was awesome... but then again it was raining... so we ran to find shelter.

Guanajuato is a city built between many mountains. Each part of the city is connected by a subterranean street or by tunnels. So we were able to seek shelter in one of the tunnels. It was the biggest tunnel I have ever walked through (it should be known that I am a professional tunnel-walker.) It took about twenty minutes, but it let you out right in the centro historico. It was still raining... hard. Thoughts of influenza were still crossing my mind. I don't have my papers yet, so I can't abuse Mexican social security. I'm waiting a few weeks before I can get really sick.

We found a pizzeria that looked like the inside of a castle... there were even people dressed like goths, holding swords and torches. The castle had been taken over by evil goth overlords, who made a damn good Hawaiian pizza.

During the meal we drank a brown liquid from a Diet Pepsi bottle we had smuggled into kingdom. I was getting drunk and tired... but the rain had stopped so we walked around a bit more. There were hundreds of people stumbling through the curved streets. (Their stumbling was the result of curvy streets I'd imagine.) We found a plaza with a drum circle. The assholes actually were selling a cd of their drum circling, as if that were something anybody would buy. I bought six copies.

I double fisted a bottle fo Victoria and an Americano. I slipped some tequila into the coffee. Tequila coffee is the new vodka Redbull... within twenty minutes I was back in the proverbial 'game.'

My travel partners decided to walk back to the camp. I stayed and practiced a reformed version of Urban Shintoism, the philosophy developed without an understanding of traditional Shintoism, but that suggests for one to have the most exciting evening possible they ought, as the original doctrines say, "to get drunk as fuck, and see where the evening takes you, without regard for anything." It's like getting hyphy, but said in pseudo-intellectual terms.

I took a picture with a bronze Mariachi. I pretended he stole my jacket. You should see the pic.

I came up to some steps in front of the main theater. People were chanting slogans from their favorite football teams and listening to another drum circle. I met these Mexican dudes who were on the prowl for the proverbial "tail." The Proverb of the Tail is a famous one that was written by one of Jesus' disciples, I can't remember it now, but wikipedia it.

So in the pursuit of hot chicks these drunk assholes, disrupted four musical peformances and swore their allegiance to the Pumas (UNAM) on multiple occasions. It was really fun. After half an hour, we parted ways because they were driving somewhere else. They invited me along but I declined. They thought it was because I was scared that the guy didn't have a license, so he showed it to me. I just wanted to continue with the festivities, plus I'd drive with someone who didnt have a license, it's Mexico, you can do whatever you want.

I walked up and down the streets, people-watching, drinking, enjoying myself. I ran into a group of Americans who were studying in Mexico City. I went for some drinks with them. Then I got tired, and made the long walk through tunnel back home. In case of robbers I picked up a rock. No robbers. I fell asleep close to five. Quiet hours were supposed to be from 12am to 7am... but because you can do whatever you want in Mexico, nobody followed them. They also kept the lights on all night. I had no sleeping bag, but I was pretty comfortable.

On Saturday, we got up, took the bus downtown, and went to a market. After buying a case of Nazi patches, a few counterfeit cds, some pachuli, and a henna tatoo that said "FOREVER", we decided to check out the mummy museum. There were all these photos of parents holding their lifeless babies... everybody was frowning, obviously the photographer had forgot to say "SMILE!"

The mummies in the museum were super disturbing. They were more scary than the mummies in Abbott and Costello meet the Mummy, though less funny (in a vaudevillian way, the mummies at the museum were more into that Monty Python shit.)

People were taking photographs even though it said not to. But then again, you can do whatever you want, it's Mexico.

There were hundred year old dried out bodies of children that seemed to be staring at you. I was feeling the after-effects of the brown liquid from the Diet Pepsi container. As it turns out, staring at the shriveled remains of human beings is not the best cure for a hangover.

After the mummies we ate at a subpar buffet... I was feeling sick (I had to poo) so I went to the bathroom. It appeared that seven or eight people had felt the same way before me, and were all unable to locate the flushing mechanism. If I were to make a list of the top fifteen most disgusting toilets that I have used in the world, this would be on it. Possibly more disgusting than the toilet that tried to prove "yes you can get AIDS from this toilet seat" (there were bloody syringes all over the place.)

Feeling better, we walked back into town. I bought an awesome t-shirt that said TEAM CERVANTINO, it had Ronald Mc Donald, Charles Manson, Hunter S, and Pee Wee Herman. I thought that I didn't understand the cultural references on the shirt, but the designer said he just thought it looked cool... I also thought it looked cool.

We went to a contemporary art museum. Then my friends left me, which for an Urban Shintoist (no matter how reformed) is a good thing. I walked around the city and found this band playing. The lead singer was wearing a skirt, a gas mask, and a qaffiah... I don't know if he was making a political statement or if he was doing it for the comfort, but it looked kind of cool. The rocked the plaza pretty well. When I got up I found that I had sat in gum... clearly a trap. Someone had convinced a sweet band to play while I sat down on just the spot where their gum was placed... the bastards!

I took a leisurely walk back to [i]the camping[/i], until it started to rain buckets. I got in the head by hundreds of red buckets, full of water. Someone yelled my name, it was my neighbor's boyfriend, Pelon (baldy), he was running away from the buckets of rain, so I followed suit. We got backed to the campsite wet as fuck... and I had no clothes to change into... so took off all my wet gear and took a nap inside the tent.

At eight o'clock Belle and Sebastian were supposed to play, so I was psyched up for that. Or psyched up as you can possibly be for Belle and Sebastian, whose music is good, but not something anybody moshpits to. Anyway Zach texted me to let me know that their show was cancelled.

I went with Pelon and my neighbor to a lookout point of over the city. You could see it all. Guanajuato is one of the most beautiful cities I have ever been to. We walked back down the hill... and Zach said he was eating dinner with some new friends at an Italian restaurant.

I ordered Chicken Cacciatore, which I believe normally is tomato-based, but this one was cream based... it was still good though.

Zach's new friends were segrated with Mexicans on the left and Britanicos on the right. They were a fun lot... I hadn't gotten drunk with Brits in a while, so I knew I was in for a good evening.

After dinner we went to a bar. I bought a round of mopeds. A moped is a shot glass with tequila and sprite, shaken up and imbibed... the Mexicans at the bar made it seem like it was a big deal.. they shook my head around in their hands... it wasn't that intense... but it did the trick.

We talked about the differences between British and American English, and British and American Comedy... I felt like I was in Britlandia or something.

We went to the plaza and bought two bottles of booze. Though it is Mexico and you can do whatever you want to, the cops in Guanajuato don't want you to drink on the streets, so they take your bottles. They only took one of our bottles. But we were pleasantly [i]borrached[/i].

A huge group of people formed in front of us to watch a drum circle. I tried to start a chant.

Mor-di-da, Mor-di-da, Mor-di-da.

It's a traditional Mexican birthday chant, encouraging the birthday boy to take a huge bite out of his cake. It normally results in frosting all over his face.

I didn't understand why nobody was chanting along with my hilarious drunk ass. But then I was informed that Mordida also means:

The bribe you give to the police to get out of trouble.

How ironic, that of all the things I know how to chant in Spanish, I chose the one that referred to the cops in the plaza... actually that was a question, was that really irony?

As I reeled in embarassment, a man came around holding a jump rope connected to a box. It turned out that it wasn't really a jump rope but cables that conduct an electric current. You are supposed to hold hands in a group, and let him turn up the juice. Why we paid him forty pesos for each jolt, I'll never know... but it was pretty cool.

After the electro-shock therapy we met an Italian wine importer, who had bottles of wine that he was gregariously sharing. We got drunk...er... I made outrageous claims like I was Manuel Lopez-Obrador and was sad because of my recent loss in the Mexican elections...

I followed some of the Brits to another bar... where we planned on ''pulling'' some locals. The first bar was very crowded, so we walked out with the free beer they gave us... and went to another less crowded bar. We started talking to these girls... then they introduced us to their boyfriends. So we left, and to celebrate our defeat we ate some hot dogs. They sell hot dogs in increments of three... which far too many at the moment... so I talked the hotdog-ero down to 2 hot dogs for 16 pesos. It worked out.

I stumbled home... and woke up the next morning in a pool of blood. Just kidding. For breakfast we went to a restaurant owned for seventy years by the eighty-six year old woman sitting at the one table in the place. They served sincronizadas, quesadillas, and burritos... which were by all accounts the same thing. A sincronizada is two tortillas that have cheese and ham in between them, a quesadilla is a tortilla folded that has cheese inside of it, a burrito is a tortilla that has cheese inside of it and is rolled. Anyway, it was pretty good.

We left Guanajuato at eleven am and didn't get back to Pachuca until nine at night, with an hour lunch in Queretaro.

I had a really fun weekend. Cervantino is one of the biggest parties I have ever been to, it reminded me of a theme park, with people partying all over the city. It was great, I'd recommend you go next year.

http://www.festivalcervantino.gob.mx/Ficesmas/