ACL Fest, Day Two

Day One was pretty much too boring to comment on.

Day Two--the Pixies! This was the very reason to go. We got there shortly before Modest Mouse went on, and luckily some friends had saved us a nice spot center. Modest Mouse was absolutely packed. There must not have been anything else on at all, because it was completely packed for Modest Mouse and made it very nearly unpleasant. So, we were annoyed, and to their eternal credit, they sucked us in. None of my friends or myself are hip or with it by any stretch of the imagination, so while we had listened to Modest Mouse, we had no clue how good they really are.

When Modest Mouse went off, we decided that since it was the same stage as the Pixies, we better hold our spot. Our thought was that if Modest Mouse was that packed, the Pixies' crowd might be impossible to navigate. That we held our spot through the next set is a real testament to our desire to see this band (and our unwillingness to move much). You see, the next band was Dashboard Confessional, who is officially the Worst Band I've Ever Heard (at least for today).

Looking around the crowd between sets, a sense of alarm swelled up inside me. All around us was a sea of very young and very blonde and very tan people wearing as little clothing as possible to show off the young tanness. Behind us was a group of such people, all blonde. Many of such young men were going shirtless, and those who weren't were wearing generally obnoxious and/or sexist shirts. (I leaned over to my girl friend and pointed out that obnoxious shirts are a sure sign of pig-headed youth. Guys our age would rather get laid than annoy people, and wearing sexist shirts isn't the way to do it.) I anxiously asked if it were possible that all these very young people were there for the Pixies. I suddenly felt ancient. My friend said she figured they must be.

And then Dashboard Confessional hit the stage and a sea of pretty young white people got up to sing along to the sad, sad emo tunes. I tried to make up lyrics about the pain of being gorgeous and young and from a well-off family, but it was hard to these tuneless songs. (Best-off: a lyric about the pain of having to settle for Yale 'cause Harvard wouldn't take you.) Yeah, those old bluesmen have nothing on the emo kids for pure soul-searching pain. These kids felt the pain, as they were singing along so heart-achingly.

And then Dashboard Confessional left, and all the scantily clad teenagers left! As did the hippies who were lingering--one of the members of Phish was playing on another stage. And I saw them, finally. My people--they were in little pockets, hard to see through the gleaming blonde hair (also, like us, they saw no reason to stand up for crap music). No tans, no bleach, and real tattoos that cost time and pain, not a cute frog on the ankle. Actually drinking beer, 'cause they could. No squealing giggles and no obnoxious shirts and no dumb statements like, "Who'd call a band the Pixies anyway?" The average IQ of the crowd shot up 50 points, and the average age 12 years. I overheard jokes and I laughed.

The Pixies were fucking fantastic. We were very, very afraid, as we had heard they suck live. They don't, not at all. They even do fun, showy stuff. Funny stuff. The first song, "Bone Machine" was sloppy and I tensed up. But then they pulled it together and I swear to god, when Kim Deal sang and the audience applauded and yelled nice things, Frank Black smiled. Good times. If you have a chance to see them, do so. The best part--they let their indie/punk side out and didn't wait for the applause to die down to start the next song. I'm smiling just thinking about it.

Anyway, tomorrow is Elvis Costello!