Last Days of ACL Recap, and That Silly Thom Yorke Forgets to Put Me on the Guest List

From my hotel I had a certain view of the wet clouds which continued to threaten the city Sunday morning; even if the same kind of rain wasn't on its way, the flooding on the roads and in Zilker Park was enough to justify shutting down early. Sometimes the show just does not go on, but to say the cancellation was a bummer is an understatement.

I spent the next few hours in my room, unsure what to do so instinctively re-living both Depeche Mode and The Cure's headlining sets via webcast as I finished my recap of Saturday. Overwhelmed by the righteousness of the last two days, and with each passing minute a little more depressed about the abrupt change in schedule, I finally went out to a nearby sports bar to commune in a different way with the people of (and not of) Austin. I needed a little escapism through football. A lot of good that would do me.

New Orleans' stupid last-second loss to stupid Tom Brady behind me, I left the bar and headed into the heart of downtown where I suspected I would find the interesting goings-on. It was then that I saw an hour-old tweet that Atoms For Peace would indeed be playing a make-up show at the Moody Theater (where they tape Austin City Limits Live) later that night. I just love how it was only when I unglued my eyes from Twitter that the announcement came. Siiiigh. 

I knew chances of actually getting in were shit when I got in the line that snaked around four big city blocks, but because of the light rain that had started again, I halfway imagined most people would peace out, traumatized by the previous night's shitstorm. Clearly not enough people went that route, and no one knew wtf was going on anyway, as by the time we reached the box office, my hopeful comrades and I were told we'd been standing for ages in the wrong line; this was Guest Listers only, and anyway, tickets were long since sold out. 

I felt super disappointed about once again missing AFP, about missing the ACL Live experience, and also that there was no opportunity for current ACL wristband holders to get first dibs on this or any of the replacement shows which popped up around town (okay, also bummed Thom Yorke didn't tweet me back). Not that they could have accommodated anywhere near the many thousands of inconvenienced festivalgoers, but it still seemed like a halfway plausible and groovy thing to attempt. I was slightly irked when--for example--I'd just learned all my efforts and intentions were for nil and two pretty little girls (who I strongly suspect did not kick it at the festival) sashayed on up to the Guest List window to claim their nice shiny tickets. I won't begrudge them a good time for whatever connections they have in the business, as I plan on doing some Guest List-window-sashaying of my own, but--ya know--goddamn bitches all the same.

So there I was, dancing on the street, cuz what else would I do in that situation? I wouldn't let that ruin my last night in town, so I figured I'd take the path of least resistance by aiming for little more than a dance floor. I got to talking to a couple residents who assured me we could find something a thousand times more legit than anything downtown, so they brought me to a local bar with a loud brass band, cheap drinks, a friendly crowd and a bomb ass taco truck serving the back courtyard. The night had made something of itself after all, and I felt sort of at home...with way hotter hot sauce.   

The next morning, my head throbbing, I had a little time to relax before the inevitably sad pack-up routine. I would be hanging out at the airport for a few hours before my flight, but I was looking forward to it because I quite like airports when I'm not running through them. 

At the check-in counter my stomach flipped when one of the airline employees mentioned The Cure had checked in a short time earlier (at another airline no doubt; as if they would fly US Airways). Then when I went through security I learned Flea had just come through. After an intimate TSA pat-down, yes of course I scoured all the accessible gates for the legendary bassist, but my too-little-too-late detective work told me he would have gotten on a flight to LA that had just boarded. Lame.

I parked myself at a small bar with a little stage of its own, a young duo playing an acoustic set in the corner. I got to talking to a couple of guys also on their way home from ACL (the statistics were highly in favor of this eventuality), and I learned I had yet again missed out on a band sighting. French fivesome Phoenix (whom I was also looking forward to seeing on Sunday) had been sitting at a nearby table for the last hour or so, one which I'd overlooked two or three times when I was busy scoping Flea. Okay, Universe, very funny. So clever of you.

All that bullshit aside, I made my way home in a state of almost total satisfaction. I met so many incredible people, became a part of so many exceptional shows, and all this just barely breathing the fumes of a city on fire. While I didn't experience everything I intended to (ahem see above, see below), my power and desire seemed to flow effortlessly from me, and I knew I was in true communion with myself. This was where I belonged. At least for this one weekend, this was exactly where I belonged. I'll be seeing you again, Austin.

Oh and look here: the Atoms For Peace at the Moody Theater webcast is up. Show starts about 41:30. Let's watch it and be happy (and also kinda sad) together.  

ACLFest Weekend Two, Day Two Recap

Robert Smith of The Cure totally owning us, all of ACL--shit, the world

I woke up slightly more bedraggled than yesterday to find that the entire ACL operation has f'real been canceled due to flooding and more flood warnings. The depression of the whole experience getting cut short is now starting to sink in, but I can't deny that my body could probably use the break. My feet ache, my reddened skin throbs, my clothes still hang wet from last night's torrential downpour. Day Two was serious business. 

I got to the park earlier in the afternoon than on Friday, about 2:00 to catch indie dance band Electric Guest. It was really no time to be dancing in the beating sun though; the Texas heat had plans of its own and would be having us know it. Maybe it was for that reason that I found Electric Guest a tad underwhelming, or maybe it was the gigantic sound coming from HAIM at the nearby main stage.

I thought I would get to catch the last 15 minutes of sister rockers HAIM's set, but they for some reason cut their performance short. I caught them just as they finished, with the three of them doing a crazyass ensemble drum-off and then one of the sisters leaping into the crowd for an unsuccessful crowd surf. But she clearly didn't give a shit and went back for a second turn. Win.

Temperatures didn't let up all afternoon, and it was a whimsical game trying to find space under one of the few trees for some shady respite. Strangely enough I found that light, continuous dancing cooled me off more efficiently than standing still. I can't stand still to music anyway, but I felt I had more power to summon breezes if I moved with it.

Life went on like that for the next couple hours, me just sort of wandering through the meadow, smiling drunkenly at everything (except sober; it was so hot I couldn't even fathom a drink until sunset). It was also around this time that the crowd seemed to swell exponentially; I'm gonna say Saturday's attendance was at least double Friday's. Suddenly people were everywhere. 

Grimes (née Claire Boucher) was one of my priorities, the adorable electronic producer from Canada who we've now learned feels strongly about burritos, Pokémon, and earplugs. She began her set with some wicked "weirdo experimental stuff" and then finally got people moving with her more recognizable tracks like "Genesis" and "Be a Body." Most notably, this was in fact the first time I had seen more than two people dancing at a time.

Okay okay okay, now I'm gonna gush about The Cure. In the downtime leading up to their performance, the sun had just set, and after such an oppressively hot day, the cooling atmosphere served to wake everybody up a little. The band came on almost ten minutes early (when does that happen??), and it was immediately obvious that they were going to own the stage, the crowd, and I'm going to go so far as to say the entire festival.

I was unsure how they would be received after seeing so many great bands get super under-appreciated by stiff crowds over the last two days, but The Cure had us all by the balls. This was the most animated I had felt any crowd for any show at ACL; that's some serious kind of magic (is Robert Smith's hair somehow connected to this power he holds? What other reason could he have for keeping it like that?). They plowed over two hours and 27 songs--a mix of ferociously familiar hits and some lesser known tracks from lesser known albums--and no doubt they could and would have kept going if the plug hadn't been pulled on them right at 10:00 (okay, they did it the classy way by fading them out, but still). 

It was at the beginning of "Wrong Number" that the rain came. And holy shit, did it come. This was the start of what would become a foot of rain during the night, the reason for today's cancellation. As disappointed as I am to miss today's lineup (Atoms for Peace, mostly), I can't imagine a more fitting closedown than The Cure.

Now I've got a whole day to get a taste of Austin. I'm going to find some beer, football, and then hopefully Thom Yorke. Wish me luck.   

        

ACLFest Weekend Two, Day One (w2d1) Recap

Zilker Park feels very intimate, considering its vast, open field-ness. Then again I love open fields and find
them to be very intimate spaces. It's just that before arriving I imagined all kinds of twists and turns in the park and that I would have to walk great distances between stages, really solid on which bands I was going to see when. At least that's the idea I'd cultivated from past attendees, but I'm finding that's not really the case at all.

Upon arrival, my first priority was to find one of the several Camelbak filling stations (you must bring your Camelbak empty). These places are a godsend for hot and thirsty festivalgoers! It's literally a long row of smiley girls holding hoses, waiting to fill your backpack with delicious, life-giving, free water anytime during festival hours. And these places are hardly even crowded. If you're coming to Zilker without a Camelbak, don't. Just don't.

All hydrated and shit, I wandered past one of the headline stages where fun. was starting to kick up the energy for the rest of the night, but I left the kids to their fun(.) and found myself in front of Detroit-based Electric Six instead. Funk, punk, dirty rock 'n roll--yeah, all those things--they were blowing it out, and frontman/songwriter Dick Valentine was certainly only making things better with his drunken antics. At one point he commented on the night's headliners, Depeche Mode and Muse, asking the crowd if we "want to see a band that's all pre-programmed with computers, backing tracks pre-set...or do you wanna see Depeche Mode?" Some of us were tickled by that (even though I DO love Muse, as you will see in a bit).

Things kind of went on like that for a while until I caught the last half hour or so of the Local Natives, a band of beautiful men with a very stimulating sound. After that I stumbled into The Black Angels' set, a sort of nu-psychedelic blues. I retreated to the outskirts of the crowd and danced in the sunshine, where it really became obvious that dancing is in fact a rare occurrence at ACL. No, seriously.

I took the time after that to relax a little before the frenzy of the night would descend. I realized then that I hadn't eaten all day; I had gotten off the plane and straight to my hotel, quickly dressed and dashed out without even thinking of sustenance (that's when you know I'm in a bit of a crazy state). And then suddenly-- miraculously--there were fish tacos. The Austin Eats area consists of maybe 30 local vendors, all with no more than four or five choices, which appeals to my sick, situational desire for Communism. From burritos and ice cream to straight hippie juices, this place has it all. I enjoyed my tacos with immense gratitude.

Queens of the Stone Age was one of the bands I was really looking forward to seeing but knew that I wouldn't get much of a chance due to the schedule conflict with a higher priority band. The sun was going down and energy was rising as people gathered round the stage, occasionally looking toward the Arctic Monkeys just down the hill. This is the great thing about this setup; you can be standing at one stage and still totally get another stage's goings-on without it feeling like the two are clashing. 

When Queens came on, that's when the grey sky opened and rain began to fall in hefty drops. Fortunately it only lasted long enough to add an electrifying element to the evening, and by then all charged up, I purposefully made my way toward the main stage to prepare for Depeche Mode.

It was only a few minutes before they came on, the crowd showing as much enthusiasm as they could. The boys launched into the standard "Welcome to My World" and "Angel," the only two tracks they would feature from Delta Machine. It was the switch-up of the fourth and fifth songs that really got my engines going: "Behind the Wheel" and "World In My Eyes" have only been featured in a handful of shows this tour. I freaked, obviously. Unfortunately most of the crowd couldn't appreciate this, so I held it down where I stood, probably the only real Devotee as far as I could see.

Every few songs I crept closer, searching for that sweet spot. At my first DM show last month, I was front row, center. That has its obvious perks but also its disadvantages in that I couldn't take in the stage visuals, and being so close, the sound is in fact pretty shit. So I started farther back last night, but I kept getting pulled closer until I was dead center but still far enough away to see the whole spectacle. Also, I found myself in a little pocket of Latino fans, who sang loudly with me and clearly loved Martin as much as I do. Awwwww.

When "Never Let Me Down Again" was over and the guys had bowed out, I wasn't fuckin' around and immediately started my dash toward the other main stage to catch the last half hour of Muse. The sound of the ambiguous thundering drums and wailing guitar soon condensed into "Stockholm Syndrome," one of my favorite Muse songs that I was not going to miss. I started to run, then faster, and soon I was sprinting like y'all ain't never seen! Seriously, like my life depended on it. Adrenaline propelled me toward the hardcore sickness of that song, and even though I had absolutely no energy or breath left, I still shout-sang and broke it down once I was in the midst of it all. I didn't feel the need to be super close like with DM because their sound is so huge and less intimate. 

I caught some of the biggest end-of-show songs like "Uprising," "Starlight" and "Knights of Cydonia." That was enough to completely exhaust me, though I am sad to see that I missed "Map of the Problematique" earlier in the set. Still, I can't say I would have done anything differently if I had it to do over again.

So there are the highlights! This is a total ramble because I am doing no editing on it; I'm just about to rush out the door to get back there in time to see Electric Guest at 2:00! Day Two, here I come! 









   

  

'Twas the Night Before ACLFest...

Fuck, fuck, fuck. That's the majority of what my inner dialogue consists of when I've got nothing packed the night before a morning flight.

Nothing's different about this night. My flight to Austin leaves at 9:30 tomorrow morning, and I only just now got the smorgasbord of clothing for the weekend (most of which I won't wear) rolled into my suitcase. As per usual, there are several other items on my checklist that need attention by the time I head out in seven hours, and I'm just trusting that they'll get done. They always do.

So here we are! The second weekend of the Austin City Limits Festival is upon us. I feel pretty bizarre right now, observing the prospect of what lay before me; I've never been to a festival this size--with this many bands I feel moderate to severe affection for--much less gone alone! But shoots, I thrive on solo adventures. Texas 'bout to get messed.

But then for all the excitement I feel, I'm equally sad to be away from my son for four days. I know he'll be having a jolly time with his dad, but I've never been away from him that long, and I am totally buggin! He's the best! Don't be surprised if I sad-post late at night when I'm crying into my pillow.

Of course there are any number of reasons why I could be crying this weekend. As I prepare for this half-country trip, sifting through the bullshit that such a thing entails, I've at times forgotten my true purpose for this weekend: seeing some fantastic shows. Depeche Mode tomorrow night, for example. The Cure on Saturday, Atoms for Peace on Sunday. These are just the headliners I've chosen, by the by, and there will be much merriment to be had long before each of them go on late in the evening. And in case you were wondering: yes I'm still resentful that Depeche and Muse are scheduled at the same time. Theoretically I will be able to catch the last half hour of Muse's set once DM finishes, sooo we'll just see how that plays out.

There are actually a few schedule conflicts like that which might cramp my style (Saturday afternoon is going to be a right clusterfuck until I drop everything for Grimes at 5:00), but I am confident that all will unfold with perfect wisdom. Cuz all is a full of love, muthafuckas.

I'm tired of talking, you're tired of reading. Let's go to bed and wake up and go to Texas. Goodnight.

p.s. If you want to follow along this weekend, watch the official webcast! Dig!

I Don't Know What "Pour It Up" Means, But I Like It

Three things are clear about Rihanna's new video "Pour It Up": she loves money, she loves strippers, and she loves herself. But considering the way the Internet has totally lost its damn mind over this, apparently these things weren't obvious before.

But seriously: the atmosphere of "Pour It Up" is so different from every other stripper-themed pop video, from Rihanna's dual role as customer/stripper to the focus on the mad athleticism of the dancers to the total absence of men. I was going to say "blaring absence," but it's not blaring; it didn't even occur to me that there are no men in the video until someone else pointed it out. It's because Rihanna holds down this really legit masculine/feminine thing where neither seems to be lacking.

She doesn't just put herself aside on this gold motherfucking throne and say "I got the money, dance bitches," this dominating war cry that other women in pop have started to do. By also getting on the pole, she both works for and makes it rain on herself, a vast distinction from this idea that there is no strength in receiving attention and workin' it, that women must be like men (like men in thigh highs and Louboutins?) to be considered strong in this world.

Or maybe she just really wanted to be a stripper surrounded by other badass strippers and totally ball it out. Whatevs! I just know that it takes a serious goddamn woman to wear a denim thong. At least it's high-waisted. Totally in right now.

3 Easy Core-Centered Ways to Instantly Boost Your Mood, Your Confidence, and Your Sex Life

It's no question our culture is saturated with unhealthy messages of what beauty and confidence are: if only we were Hollywood's current idea of bodily perfection or we had a hit record or a million bucks in the bank, we would have something to smile about. Real confidence is a state of mind which is much broader and far more accessible than that, not an exclusive premium for a certain type of person. 

So here we go, just three easy ways to instantly amplify your happy thoughts and your sense of security in who you are. It's only as I was editing this that I realized these are all related to your core (abdominals and back, the root of your strength and self-awareness). Go figure!

1. DROP DOWN AND GIVE ME 10 

I know, exercise isn’t the easiest or sexiest way to start this list, but bear with me. We all know a regular workout is essentially to a healthy life, but it's easy to get intimidated by everything they say you "need" to do to get that "bikini body" and anything less just isn't worth your time. I am a firm believer that every little bit counts (and that a rock-hard bikini bod isn't the goal for everyone).

Quick fix: Sometimes we need a little lift but don’t have the time or desire to get full-on Jillian Michaels with it. I know! Getting down and doing a few push-ups (10-20, depending on your fitness level) and/or some *ab work will give you more energy, flush your skin with a little color, and help clear your mind. It may even stop junk food cravings in its tracks!

*I am a huge fan of core work. Whenever I’m feeling just blah I like to fire up my abs for some zest. Here are a couple of my favorite ab routines from Blogilates.

2. PELVIC-BELLY ORGASMIC ROCKSTAR BREATH 

Now you're paying attention! I've heard it called a few different things, but I don't think this breathing exercise has an official name because it serves, like, every purpose. It's that awesome. This breath is IMO one of the quickest and most powerful things you can do to feel stronger, more in tune, and more confident in your body and mind.

You are probably already familiar with the yogic breath: Take a slow stream of air into the depths of your belly first, and as you exhale, empty the belly last. In the Pelvic-Belly variation, bring your attention to your pelvic floor (your genitals) as you inhale, and as air fills your belly, imagine it filling the space in your pelvis as well. Allow all those root muscles (or “bathroom muscles”) to relax and expand. As you exhale, begin to squeeze back up and in, deep into the core of your contracting belly, and hold it as tight as you can before inhaling and opening again. This can feel a little awkward at first, but just keep practicing it and you will find control in the rhythm.

Quick fix: After just a few of these breaths you may begin to feel more grounded, less anxious, and more decisive. Not to mention conditioning those pelvic muscles increases your sexual energy and range of sensation! Try it. Win at life.

3. STAND UP STRAIGHT 

We've heard it all our lives. But what does that really mean and why is it important? There is more to good posture than meets the eye.

So go ahead, stand up. Notice your posture. Are you standing tall, open, and confident or are you hunched slightly (or a lot), your heart collapsed? How does it feel? How does it look? Adjusting the way you stand and walk has a tremendous effect on the way you see the world and how the world sees you.

Quick fix: Arms at your sides, balance your weight evenly on both feet. Roll your shoulders onto your back (imagine the circular rotation of your shoulder is a clock; if your shoulders fall forward at sort of a 9:00 position, crank them up over the 12:00 and back to a 3:00). Relax your arms away from your neck; your chest opens, your spine straightens.

Not done yet! Now notice your hips. If they’re tilted way back, you’ll see your spine is overextended, jutting your belly out, and your chest and butt are basically poppin’ it like it’s hot (which is really about as hot as a lopsided duck). Engage your lower abs as you scoop your pelvis under and forward so your spine flows more evenly into your hips. Hey, look! Your abs are even looking flatter! You should feel stable here; this is the foundation from which you can elongate and truly express your spine. This is the dancer and model look.

When you train yourself to start standing and walking like this more often, I guarantee your perspective will change. I used to be shy and lacking in confidence, hunching my shoulders and staring at the ground as I walked. Once I started standing tall, looking forward, my heart open to the world, the world itself began to open its heart to me.

Some people confuse confidence with arrogance. The way I see it, arrogance is just another barrier; confidence is a way of crossing those barriers. When you feel strong and secure in your body and your mind (if only for a day, an hour, a minute!), you are radiating confidence. This is what assures not only yourself but everyone around you that “I’m okay, you’re okay, it’s all okay.” This is a mighty gift to share!

With a regular “confidence practice” you can navigate any situation with comfort and grace (yeah, even sex!). Cultivate it within yourself, and everything around you will be affected.   

Oh, but if all else fails: tequila shots.