Saturday 23/07/05 Day 1 @ Lollapalooza, Chicago

Lollapalooza 2005 – a family affair. Couples young enough to remember the last relevant Lollapalooza eleven years ago – where Billy Corgan told all attendees who were leaving the grounds early that they could go “**** themselves” and proceeded to follow up his taunt by mocking the dadrock of Great Lakes favorite son, Bob Seger (“Night Moves”) are now proud parents in their own right.  Don’t think Perry Ferrell hasn’t noticed, for, nestled in a leafy corner of Grant Park is Kidzapalooza.

12pm:  “We’re Hard-Fi,” snarls Richard, “We’re from West London.”  Hard-Fi are one of several acts sentenced to the Planet Stage. The sight of a melodica on 'Unnecessary Trouble' sends a shiver of giggles through the gaggle of girls down the front. Gigwise leans in to mangle an Eminem line:  “Y’all act like you’ve never seen a white person before” only instead of saying “white person” he says “melodica.” The girls roll their eyes, click their tongues. Richard removes his sunglasses. Gigwise is persistent, taps an affable bird on the shoulder.  “He looks just like Thomas Nemorin of rising Swedish group, The Pose.”  “Who?” she says.  wE offers a few knowing nods. “Just you wait.” 

12:30pm:  M83 have some wretched stage placement.  Gonzalez on keyboard and Fromageau on screwdriver guitar, they are facing each other. For most of the set they’re throwing the cold shoulder to the crowd. This works indoors, in smoky dives, but in full view, in broad daylight, with so many more distractions, you’ve gotta go nuts, spaz it up some, chaps. Let’s see what The Warlocks are up to.

12:35pm:  The Warlocks are staring down The Redwalls – the Deerfield quartet have a sound that hearkens back to an age before The Warlocks’ ground zero, The Summer of Love, but the Dave Clark sound failed and the hippies failed and The Warlocks know it and they’re looking sour. Here we are in the pit, shooting the stoned Warlocks. 
The bassist looks like Brody Dalle drug through the Courtney Love baby doll rabbit Hole.  Redwalls done and here we go.
Wait, that’s it? Just a big drone. Should’ve known. 

1:21pm:  Leaving early. The Dead ‘60s?  More like The Dud ‘60s. 'Riot Radio' incites little more than arrhythmic toe-tapping. Some old coot taps us on the shoulder. Holy shit, it’s that usher with whom we once worked before they sacked us for that one article we wrote about that Viagra gathering but it wasn’t really a Viagra gathering it was a downscale Republican National Convention masquerading as a Viagra gathering, replete with mind-control Orwellian glowstick underpinnings (with music by Blues Traveler) – in other words, Corporate America’s idea of a rave. 

1:25pm:  “Not so fast, buster.” There’s a woman with rotted teeth that kicks us out of the pit for Ambulance LTD. I see you’ve got your act together, here at the Parkways Stage. Let’s try the other side…no? Oh, she’s a tenacious one. Ambulance do the same set they did when we saw them last, throwing 'Primitive' and the failsafe 'Anecdote' up there early but Marcus Congleton’s voice is going hoarse too much from screaming at his record label.    

1:55pm:  And the award for the worst stage banter goes to…And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead!  Let’s cue those audio snippets. “Hot and muggy! Just like we like it. Just like Texas!”  Roar! “C’mon, this is a ****in’ party. So get crunk! Get ****ed up!” Yea!  Conrad Keely, have you a speech prepared? “****in get crunk’d up **** dope shit wack phat dope stoopid.”  A muzzle for the frontman, please.

2:30pm:  We’ve seen Kaiser Chiefs so many times our suit jackets have developed pinstripes so we decide to give Liz Phair a shot.  Mistake. Liz Phair. Charisma Void. Miss Tinny Voice. Watching Liz Phair perform is like watching Sorority Girl USA in the college cafeteria labouring over what dressing to put on her salad. We were gonna give you fifteen minutes, Liz, but five is pushing it.

2:52pm:  VHS or Beta at the Planet Stage. “Thanks for finding the stage away from all the other stages,” says the singer.  “Thanks for being here”. A little southern hospitality goes a long way. VHS or Beta are from Louisville, Kentucky, whisky country, birthplace “Put your hands together and we’ll light this night / light this night on fire” sounds a bit incongruous at ten past three in the afternoon. VHS realizes this, apologizes, saying their show goes down better after eleven in a dark bar. No apology needed. It doesn’t matter when they’re playing, day or night, indoors or out, VHS or Beta is a magnet. 

6:21pm: Make it back just in time to catch the end of Blonde Redhead. Singer Kazu Makino in her short yellow dress strikes such a figure that in no time flat we’re saying ‘phoah’ like any lecherous occupant of an Irvine Welsh novel.  And look who’s on the East stage – Billy Idol!  He’s doing 'Rebel Yell'and the pyro is in full effect. Whole groups of Hell’s Angels rejects are pogoing like pre-teens at a Futureheads show.  For the first time today, the audience reacts. “You want more?” Billy repeats, the ‘more’ echoing like it did for Liz Phair. He keeps saying it but the tight scheduling makes no accommodation for an encore.

6:30 – 7:30pm The Black Keys versus Primus. The Black Keys aren’t made for wide expanses; they work a whole lot better in a tiny room. As for Primus, if you can still see the 3-storey inflatable duck on the stage just behind them, you need to get further away from the stage. Wisconsin is a good place, for starters.

7:30pm The Walkmen drew the shortest stick of the festival, pitted against Frank Black’s toddler-throwing-temper-tantrum sonic squall and power.  Kim Deal comes out looking like Mother Theresa.  “Pretty skyline,” she says.  For entire songs, she stands transfixed, studying the architecture whilst plunking notes on her bass, smiling.  'Debaser','Here Comes Your Man,' they’re all here, but our newfound photographic duties drag us over to the Weezer stage.

8:45pm Come one, come all. It’s dark now and nobody cares what color your wristband is. Pre-Weezer, out pops the dapper Ferrell to give us perverts some delightful eye candy.  It’s the Lolla Girls. Their scantily clad gyrations appear to be Perry’s last-ditch attempt at curing Rivers Cuomo of his self-imposed celibacy – two years and counting.