Exhaustion is setting in, despite my adamant declarations to the contrary. We’ve been in Jersey all day, and honestly, their motto is “only the strong survive”. We joked about that and guidos, but Jersey people don’t fuck around!
We came to New York City yesterday to attend the All ‘Points West music festival today. Actually, we might have flown across the country primarily for this reason. It had a near-perfect lineup:
Fleet Foxes Ra Ra Riot Vampire Weekend Yeah Yeah Yeahs Jay Z
There were others, but they were forgettable. I also didn’t care much to stay for Jay Z, but I appreciated the greatness of booking him, and indulged Christina and Lara’s almost uncontainable excitement.
Last night I didn’t sleep until almost 3 am, and yet I inexplicably woke up at 6.30 today. The others didn’t get up until much later, but we did leave early. On the way to the ferry we had to take across the water to Jersey, our group stopped in a Duane Reade to get some alcohol to pregame with. The strongest drinks we could get were forties, one Stella and one Corona. It was 10/30 am. At first we were at a loss without a bottle opener. We looked around for the kind of men that would be able to open beer bottle with their teeth, own ATVs, call everyone “dude” - obviously a “bro”. My friends and I have a special fascination for this population group.
Of course, I was the one that acted the man and successfully opened both bottles before a full audience. Everyone in line for the ferry was no doubt endlessly amused and judgmental.
The ferry ride over was surprisingly smooth, but we were dropped off a long way from the festival entrance. Luckily, security check didn’t take as long as we feared. Lara and I charmed the security guard and probably could have smuggled in guns (and roses).
There weren’t any bands we wanted to see immediately, so we dropped mad cash on overpriced food and drinks. We would have seen Telepathe, but they took too long to set up and we had to walk over to Fleet Foxes. Fleet Foxes were haunting and beautiful. I wish I could have stayed for the whole set, but Ryan and I were determined to be at the front for Ra Ra Riot and thus had to leave early for that.
This was the best Ra Ra Riot performance I’ve seen – and I’ve seen a fair share. Wes (The lead singer) was unusually and exceptionally enthusiastic and emotive while singing and dancing. The others sang and danced too, with the exception of the frigid cellist. The incredible thing about the show was this black guy standing next to us, who somehow knew all of the words. He loyally sang along and danced like a thug, which would seem incongruous with music including a cello and violin, but was actually adorable. He also called for Discovery along with us; Discovery is a side project of Wes and Rostram’s (Vampire Weekend). I’m not a huge fan, but I thought it was too convenient for them to both be playing the festival to not play Discovery. Wes didn’t oblige, but his bouncing mop of curls consoled me.
From that minor stage we headed to the main one and readied ourselves for three hours solid of music and dancing. It was Vampire Weekend, Yeah Yeahs Yeahs and Jay Z back to back. We didn’t get there terribly early, and yet managed to worm our way to the very front! Christina and Lara decided they preferred to be center, while Ryan and I were content to stay more to the left but at least up against the barricade. A great benefit to this was that Ryan and I were standing up out of the mud. Everyone else was churning the ground into a disgusting swamp.
Vampire Weekend’s set was the most miserable condition. Thunderstorms were raging across the Tri-State area, and we were under the awning of the stage so that the rain dumped down heavily on us. I was too busy dancing to care about holding my hood up. I thrashed around in the rain, certain I would get a head cold but enjoying myself thoroughly. Vampire Weekend were particularly good performers, but they announced that because of the bad weather, APW was making amends by allowing Friday ticket holders back on either Saturday or Sunday! That sealed the deal: this was the best day ever.
APW has been pretty good about timeliness, and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs came on soon after. Sound check and stage set up was efficient; I really liked that Nick Zinner, the guitarist of YYYs did his own sound check. They started with “Heads Will Roll” – an excellent choice – and when Karen O came prancing out, everyone lost their minds.
She’s a veritable goddess. Really. She’s supernatural onstage, I couldn’t explain it. Karen O struck awe and devotion in everyone’s hearts. When she ran over to the side of the stage and stood right in front of me and Ryan, we lost our minds and any shred of composure we were clinging to. We both screamed like little girls and stretched our arms out to her. If we had been able to grab her, it would have been done. We wouldn’t have let go. I danced with total abandon, nevermind the people I was undoubtedly punching and elbowing in the face. I don’t think I’ve ever danced so much at a show. It was also the best possible set list if not for getting bogged down by “Skeletons” in the middle. Otherwise, I wasn’t left wanting. The Yeah Yeah Yeahs set rank among the best performances I’ve ever seen, just under Andrew Bird - who isn’t likely to be surpassed anytime soon.
Fully satisfied by the YYYs, Ryan and I didn’t need to stay at the front for Jay Z. We actually thought it would be wise to get out of the crowd before they got too rowdy. As we pushed our way out, a very different crowd pushed their way in. It was amusing to see the traffic of hip hop vs. rock. Ryan and I spread out our rain ponchos on the grass at the edge of the field and watched comfortably from afar. Jay Z looked like he was enthusiastic and doing a good job of it, but it was just not my jam. I was more entertained by the awkward white people grinding crookedly against each other’s bodies.
On our way home that night, we eagerly rehashed all that had happened that day and discussed plans to return the next day. We were all worn down by the brutal conditions, but the temptation of seeing the Arctic Monkeys, St. Vincent, Neko Case and the Ting Tings proved too great to resist.
None of the aforementioned acts were very early in the day, so we had time to have a late brunch and buy crappy shoes at K-Mart in anticipation of the mud. We decided to forego the ferry and instead took a posh, private towncar, the epitome of class, to the depths of New Jersey. Ironic. I wish I was exaggerating in my jokes about Jersey, but as soon as we stepped out of our car at the light rail station, a man lumbered up to us and told us a story about a balloon. I couldn’t get into the festival ground quick enough. The people there were only marginally better than the outside, with the caveat that these were Tool fans.
The others didn’t care about Arctic Monkeys, leaving me to push my way to the crowd alone. I didn’t get very far, but I had a good area to dance in because no one else was willing to stand in muddy sinkholes. The AM were boring performers, but I loyally danced along to the set. I’m sure it was an amusing sight: me, alone and in a prim and proper dress, jumping around in the mud.
We all met and walked over for St. Vincent directly after. St. Vincent was incredible to me, even if Ryan was disdainful and Christina skeptical. She’s exactly what I want to be, minus the massive afro of curls. She wore bright solids and tights. She rocked out on the guitar quite capably – at one point on her own, without any band as a crutch. I wish I could be either her, Karen O (impossible) or Alexa Chung. The latter not for talent, as she doesn’t have any, but for her gams and the chance to date Alex Turner (AM).
Neko Case closed out the stage that we were at. She and her band were very charming, and again, a very talented lady. Christina and Lara were only there to see Neko Case, and at one point, I looked at the two of them and saw that their hands were clasped in unison before their jubilant faces and glassy eyes. Best friends indeed.
We made the mistake of waiting a couple of acts for the Ting Tings in the tent that they were to play in. First was Tokyo Police Club, who Ryan and Christina had promised would be good. As we walked up, Christina frowned and complained “What band is this? They’re terrible!” Good call, Christina. After them, Crystal Castles came on. I remembered Anton and Julie talking about them, and reading about them on hipster blogs that I pretend I don’t read. I expected a band of skinny jeans and ray bans, playing mediocre pop rock songs. The lights started pulsing and all we heard was thumping bass and distorted sounds from a laptop. At first we all laughed at how ridiculous it was, but it quickly turned ugly. I took two aspirin and put on my sunglasses. Indoors. These preventative measures worked, thank goodness. I didn’t have a headache by the end. We also had chairs and were sitting down for the whole set, to be refreshed and ready to dance for the Ting Tings.
For the Ting Tings, we pushed our way to a fairly good spot five or six people deep from the stage. Somehow, amidst the hundreds of thousands of people at this festival, we ended up next to the same two Taiwanese exchange students we had been standing next to, behind, or in front of at most sets. These two weren’t paying attention to the music, but were more concerned with themselves. They took self-portraits during climactic songs, or marveled at the ground instead of whoever was onstage. As we were waiting for the Ting Tings to finish setting up, they lit up cigarettes in the middle of a crowd of 5’6” and under girls. Everyone’s heads and hair were at the perfect height to be set on fire.
Fortunately, the girls in front of us were so awesome they made up for the other unpleasant pair. They joked with us about going onstage as “The Ting Tangs” to fake out the crowd. They even chivalrously stood up for Christina when a rude 12-year-old pushed in front of her!
The Ting Tings were great fun. I had no idea the girl was so talented. I thought that though they were the core two of the band, there would surely be backup to accompany them on tour. Yet it was just of the two of them the entire time. She played a few different electric guitars, the keyboard, and most importantly, a cow bell. She threw the drumstick she was using with the cowbell into the crowd, and incredibly it ricocheted out of many eager hands and into mine! I had thrown my hand up with abandon, probably more to dance than try at the stick. I never try for those sorts of things! There was a couple beside me that almost had the drumstick, and for the rest of the set they glared at me maliciously. Not going to lie, I waved the stick around while I was dancing to rub it in.
On our way back to the car pick-up point, I had my first and last genuine guido sighting in New Jersey! I gasped with delight when Christina pointed him out. Ryan was thoroughly confused. I didn’t help much, explaining that “they are a rare and beautiful creature.”
“And you get to see them in their natural habitat!” – Christina
Day two, though unexpected and draining, was well worth the $30 we spent to get there and back again in the towncar. It’s a shame that this weekend has been consumed by the festival, but when I really think about it, I wasn’t going to do any of the touristy things, so we didn’t need to allot much time for that.
Today we got up late again (deservedly) before exploring the city. The night before we tried to make a comprehensive list of things we wanted to do, but didn’t come up with much. The plan was just to have brunch and go on each of our pilgrimages; Strawberry Fields for Ryan and the Chelsea Hotel for me, respectively.
We meant to eat at this apparently delightful place, Extra Virgin, but the wait was over half an hour for seats. In desperation to get out of the rain and caloric intake, we went to the first restaurant we could find, which happened to be next door. Lara remarked that all the waiters were men with questionable Italian accents. She was convinced that the place was run by the Mafia. Not entirely implausible. The food was overpriced – I paid nine dollars for an egg salad sandwich – and later we were the victims of actual robbery.
We were on our way out the door when the waiter ran after us and insisted that we were $33 short. Everyone had definitely paid, and Lara had even paid in excess! It was a mortifying scene, and to get out of there, Lara just paid again. $80 for fried bacon, eggs and a piece of toast!
We tried to put the disaster out of our heads and enjoy the rest of the day. Right off the bat, Lara took me to the Chelsea Hotel a few subway stops away. It was much nicer than I had expected; everyone always told me it was a little janky. I took a couple of pictures outside by the big sign: one prim and proper in my Sunday Brunch dress, the other simulating a blow job. At first I tried to convince Ryan to pose with me but he wouldn’t oblige. He was the smart one.
Before anyone gets alarmed, the whole fascination and magic to the Chelsea Hotel, besides being the residency of Leonard Cohen, Arthur Miller, Janis Joplin and a dozen other “artists” of the time, is this beautiful song:
This is a beautiful cover by Martha Wainwright; her voice is absolutely haunting:
The inside was underwhelming. They hadn’t updated the style at all, and it was a little tacky, to be honest. It was a small lobby, and I couldn’t find a bathroom; I needed to pee both genuinely and out of giddiness. I should have gone into the elevators to see where Leonard Cohen met Janis Joplin and from there went back to his room to have a one-night stand. By then I could tell the others were growing impatient, though, so we left. One of these days, I will live out that song.
Such great aspirations.
We got back on the subway and rode over to Central Park, where the Dakota was nearby. We couldn’t figure out exactly which building it was, and having no shame, I was involuntarily chosen as the person to ask. I went up to a doorman, didn’t see that both his hat and his coat said “The Dakota”, and asked him where it was.
“Right here,” he pointed at the ground. No doubt he’s had to deal with many others like us, stupid but loyal to John Lennon and curious to see where he was murdered. The Strawberry Fields memorial site was across the street in the park. There were signs posted around the area that asked for quiet, but Christina and Lara kept laughing for no reason. Ryan and I wanted pictures, but we weren’t sure whether or not it was okay to smile. I usually frown most hours of the day, but I smile habitually in pictures.
On the other side of Central Park was the Met, where I wanted to eat on the steps, a la Gossip Girl. In my Sunday dress, I likened myself to Blair Waldorf, although that’s paying myself an excessively high compliment. Lara and Christina told us that the secret to the Met was that admission is “suggested” but not required! We each paid a dollar and got to run around through the great exhibits. The other three somehow worked up an appetite and ate ice cream, multiple hot dogs, and started demanding pretzels and pizza.
We were tired, and decided to skip out on the United Nations. Criminal, considering who we are, but shrug. Back at the apartment, everyone collapsed on the bed or the couch but me. We kept a running joke that one of us was going to die from the ordeal of the trip, but I was never really in the running. I was always the least sore, up the earliest, didn’t have a cold, didn’t have motion-sickness, and didn’t throw up. I have lost my voice though, much to Ryan and Christina’s amusement. Though I’m talking the same amount, saying the same things I would normally, they’re convinced I have a whole new personality. My level of hoarseness changes every couple of hours, and apparently so does my persona. Sometimes they all me “Lowes”, my lesbian name.
Whew, finally, at the end. This entry is six whole pages on Microsoft Word. No one reads this diary, and is much less willing to read this much, but hurrah to you if you have. This is mostly for the memories, and we’ve made so many that I can’t even remember the great ones. I guess I can refer back to our tweets for the specific jokes, since we could never resist twitter when we had one. My hands are tired and I want to nap the rest of the way on this bus ride back to Washington DC.