After five years of no live music. Cameron, finally found the will to attend the FYF Fest, mainly for My Bloody Valentine. What he came away with, was a little more abstract.
With seas of new age hippies waving back and forth and the dusty clouds kicking up at Los Angeles Historic State Park, FYF Fest was blatantly under way this weekend.
It was hot. And not like, “oh this is bearable hot,” no. It was a sweltering dry-heat that followed you like you had your own private sun; like Superman’s wet dream.
The Heat wasn’t enough to keep my rather portly ass down though.
Traversing the plains of Los Angeles I bounced from stage to stage – which were cleverly named after the Sex And The City ladies, Carrie being the main and Samantha being a gaping tent. From Charles Bradley in the hot afternoon, to live comedy from Doug Benson, Brandon Smalls and a bunch of other acts, in the best/worst venue at the grounds. Navigating the crowds and randomly stopping at acts I’ve never heard of.
I love music, I really do. I just don’t pay attention. I went there for three bands and they were all headliners – to say I was the least “hipster” there would be an understatement: My Bloody Valentine, The Yeah Yeah Yeahs and TV On The Radio. I had no idea who the hell Toro Y Moi and Devandra Banhart were; but by the end of the night I totally loved them and both, back to back no less, were part of the top-five bands I witnessed throughout my experience.
I almost felt bad, until I noticed the other people who were dancing along, but like myself, had no idea what we were dancing to, and why? But then again, when it comes to dance, who cares ?
Which brings me to my point:
White people, including myself, STOP THE GOD DAMN DANCING.
I know it’s fun, shit you look like you’re having fun. But it’s a disgrace to dancing. I’m sorry.
Most of this music is about dancing, all EDM is dance this and dance for love and this and that about dance. Everything in music, made by upper-echelon white folk with trust funds, is about dance.
And none of them know how to dance. Not a single god damn one.
Again, I know it’s about fun. I danced a little and I had fun. But what I did, the “hands by the side and groove with your hips and knees,” is confined, it’s easy, it fits in a small space and it’s not inconvenient to anyone around you.
Whether it’s the ecstasy (it is) or it’s actually the music (it isn’t), all I’m asking is to either stop the dancing or rein it in a little bit. I don’t need to be almost-dry humped by some 20-something because his trip is reaching levels not seen by Timothy Leary.
Here’s a video of what you look like:
And that’s not what you want to look like, right? RIGHT??
So please, if you’re at a festival, and your jamming on ecstasy and shrooms and a litany of other drugs. Tell The Great Gazoo that your gonna take it down a notch and take the “dum-dum” comment. It’s just a figment of your imagination and his judgement means nothing.
Oh, and in terms of the concert, I had a bunch of videos and pictures and interviews that I totally lost or they were such terrible quality that you couldn’t understand what was being said. So, here’s a quick rundown of the best performances and a from memory remembrance of the nights events:
1. TV On The Radio – They sound calm and electronic on CD. Live they sound like a cacophony of hard rock and electronica.
2. The Yeah Yeah Yeahs – There really isn’t a need for explination.
3. My Bloody Valentine – The 30 minutes I saw before technical difficulties cut them short.
4. Charles Bradley – Like James Brown but not dead.
5. !!! – I guess pronounced Chik, Chik, Chik. They were dope.
Things of observation:
I saw a guy rummage through a trash can, pull out an empty Red Bull can, and just walk away. He didn’t do anything with it, didn’t put anything in it, just took it from the trash and walked away. He rummaged!
Again, a guy was passed out on the ground. He got stepped on and didn’t react. I immediately thought he was dead. He wasn’t.
They had bracelets for people over 21. This needs to be applied to women under 18. From now on, with the way girls are dressing less and less now, they should have to wear an “I’m under 18” identification bracelet. OR a jumpsuit.
The Chinatown Amtrak entrance is super easy to sneak on to during the day. Not so much at night though, especially right down the street from a festival.
There’s no way that Moses and his Jew-crew walked the desert that long. My girlfriend, who didn’t come, is Jewish and she would’ve killed someone if she went and had to walk that whole time. Thus no way they walked the desert that long. I’d say they did 5 hours then set up shop.
When you have more than one person performing comedy, no more host. They always suck unless they’re Jon Oliver or an actual comedian.
Doug Benson: Still smokes a lot of weed.
Brandon Smalls: Comedy + Metalocalypse + Adult Swim Humor = Awesome.
Now, from Mr. Benson, I leave you with his fantastic pick up line.
Next time you’re out and you see a lady across the bar. Walk up to her and say this:
“Hey girl, my dick just died. Can I bury it in your ass?”