Bonnaroo, Black Friday, and Blindness.



So Hal Hixson and I, made a difficult decision on Saturday Morning (that is us to the left), to sacrifice both Cat Power and The Avett Brothers so that we could meet Sigur Ros at the Newbury Comics artist signing. I really wanted to see The Avett Brothers, especially since it was the only show I would have seen at "The Other Tent" this year (I spent much of my time there in 2007 - David Rawlings and all). And, apparently, Cat Power was not a show to miss, after the fact. But these are the difficult decisions that must be made at Bonnaroo - always a good test of discernment. Later on that evening, we would skip out on Jack Johnson and Pearl Jam, just to be as close to the stage as possible for the Sigur Ros show. Terribly difficult...terribly. But no regrets...trust me.

So Hal and I talk to the New England neo-punk hipster intellectuals from Newbury Comics about the process of the artist signing - and actually get some really solid tips - so we thought. "Come an hour before", they say, "and get a wrist band". so essentially, they have 150 wrist bands, which is the number of people they expect to get through in the minimal 30 minutes they have slotted for each artist. So, since it was early in the day (not many people around yet), it seemed that it would be simple and peaceful enough to get a wristband, meet the band, and move along.

After a somewhat disappointing Abigail Washburn show, I wandered over to the Which Stage for a bit. I then circled around to Newbury Comics to wait on Hal. In the meantime, a girl wanted me to take a picture of her friends and family in front of the beer tent (right across from the Newbury Comics tent). That's cool. But somehow, I took this really great picture of them with the sign and the sun peeking through - and they just really wanted to let me know how appreciative they were, and then they wanted to talk, and this just went on and on... Apparently, this girl was there with her new husband and her new mother-in-law. Well, mother-in-law was a classic close talker (a person who stands unusually close to others when speaking). She wanted me to agree that her daughter-in-law was really beautiful, while the husband was in the background (a bit wasted) trying to convey to me how cool it was that his mom was there, while the entire time, mother-in-law is just inches from my face. All the time, I just kept thinking, "wow, I have never been this close to a milf before". I know that is terrible, but that is actually what I was thinking.

That finally ended, and I found Hal. And we found people - lots of people. People walking, people in line, people in the store, people at Sonic Stage, people getting food, people getting beer, people using the bathroom, etc. We thought we were standing in the correct place to get a wrist band...and then it happened...the New England neo-punk hipster intellectuals thought it would be a good idea to stand in the entrance of the tent (right by the busy road) and pass out wrist bands for Sigur Ros. All the sudden, everyone hated each other. All piled in a circle, sticking their wrists out farther than the person next to the them, below them, above them. I think a few may have been hyper-extended. It was a lot like the day after Thanksgiving at Wal-Mart. "All-consuming". Nobody was going to stop them from getting that goddamn autograph. Of course, there were not 150 people there, so everyone was going to get a wristband, and the New England neo-punk hipster intellectual told them to be patient and back-up - but they fought all the harder for the prize - displacing joints to extend further - no pain, no gain!! I stood back from the circle of consumers, until the New England neo-punk hipster intellectual split the remains in half, and handed them to another New England neo-punk hipster intellectual outside the circle. I peacefully walked over and got my wristband, and Hal got his. We stopped to breath for a second, shake our heads, and then we walked back across to the beer tent, where an entertaining young man was hallucinating and eating grass and rubbing it around his face as he rolled around the dirt and grass. It was quite a sight. I was entertained, briefly.

So Hal and I waited for about a half hour. There were huge long lines, but we could not tell for what or who. So, we waited for another half hour. At 6:00pm, we got in the back of the line, but then began to notice that the people in front of us did not have wristbands, even though they were waiting to meet Sigur Ros. My first thought, "Assholes"! "What happened, or what is happening?!?" We did not make a big deal out of it, but were confused, and trying to be patient. "Assholes"! It quickly became 6:15pm, and this was going to end at 6:30pm - and the line had not moved much at all, at least in the back, because it was a bottle neck. Anxious! Then I saw the New England neo-punk hipster intellectual picking people out, who did not have a wristband, and making them go to the back of the line. So Hal and I immediately put our wrist up in the air, and began asking all the people in front of us, if they had wristbands - until we had moved all the way up to the last person with a wristband.

Phew! You see, I wasn't anxious because I "had to have an autograph". Fuck that! (Although, you should see it, it's pretty cool). What had happened was, while we were patiently waiting for our wristband, I became very disturbed about this being a completely consumeristic experience, even if I was not participating in the Wal-Mart look-a-like contest. I began to think - what in the hell can I give back to Sigur Ros, to make this more of an exchange - or at least make it a more genuine encounter with one another - instead of "sign here" and "can I get my picture with you?". So, just after 6:25pm, our turn comes. Obviously, there is a New England neo-punk hipster intellectual security guard pointing people to Sigur Ros, and then rushing them out ASAP. Awkward. But I am happy, cause I know...

I walk up to Jonsi when I is my turn. I have no idea what to say, so I don't. Jonsi extends his hand, nods, and says, "nice to meet you". I say, "nice to meet you too." I am totally star struck, unfortunately. But they were very genuine - trying not to rush. "Heima" was passed over to Kjartan, who signed off on it quickly, nodded, and passed it back. I then took a deep breath and said..."Well, I really wanted to give something back to you guys - and there is this beer tent right over there, and if you take these tickets over there, you can get a beer." They both immediately tried to stand up to thank me, but their thighs hit the table, so they were only half way up, yet still shaking my hand, smiling greatly, saying "thank you, thank you, thank you"! Jonsi then said, "See you", and nodded.

I walked away, smiling, because what I gave was 100 times more important than what I received. and everytime I see what I received, I think about how genuine, meek, mild, and appreciative they were - and how beautiful that is - and how their music reflects that.

There is a word they use in their documentary, "Heima". It seemed to represent greatly who they are as artists, and sadly, seems to be the opposite of our consumeristic culture. "Noble". When Doug and I heard it in the film, we both agreed that the word "Noble" is simply not used in our language, in America. Thinking about it now - I don't think it can be - not if we are always competing with one another, even in the most inappropriate times.

After learning this lesson, that I seemed to teach myself through observance and process - I was able to immediately apply it to a perfect situation. a friend of Sharon Bell's is selling his entire DVD collection to help jump-start a business. She notified me, knowing my own obsession with film. So I got in contact with this guy, hoping to find exactly what I was looking for - Bergman. Severely discounted Criterion Collection, in almost mint condition! Doug and I went over to meet Derek, and I picked up what I could afford. However, I was so thrilled that Derek was a bigger fan of Bergman than myself, that I told him that he should know, that he can buy back these films at any time, and that this is now our collection of Bergman - not mine, not his - but ours.

There will not be blood, not when we share.