A few moments to collect my thoughts.

Ok. Ready now

Lunch at Chipotle. Ready for action

On to Grant Park. Ready for day two

We caught the tail end of “I’m From Barcelona” and immediately wished we had made it earlier and seen the entire set. They had an enthusiasm unlike any other band I had seen at the festival…yet.

Next, we saw “Pete Yorn” his gentle pop melodies made the day go by a little better. In fact, it was kinda like 2001 all over again. Thanks Pete!
Fellow Okie “Aqueduct” was next. He covered “R. Kelly’s” “I’m a Flirt” and we all sand along. I hadn’t seen “Aqueduct” since my old club days at OKC’s “Green Door” (the one on Western, not Bricktown). My, how the days go by so fast. Nonetheless, this is not the place for old memories. This is Chicago son, what happens here, occurs before your eyes, and if you’re not careful, life will pass you by.
“Cold War Kids” were next. Steven liked them. I liked them better when I saw them the first time and they were called “The Walkmen” because the kids stole everything from the masters known as “The Walkmen”. (Here we go Lucas, more bold statements) I must apologize if I offend any “Cold War Kids” fans, but sweet Lincoln’s mullet they sounded just like “The Walkmen”. If that is your thing, then so be it, but I needed a little more. And a little more is just what I got.
Mixing the Pepsi with Seagram’s was a great idea. During the hour long break between the kids and “The Hold Steady” we got, to quote from the book of Finn, “keyed up!!” slamming the Pepsi down with whiskey, we quickly made friends.
“Come on the club is open.” Thank you Mr. Pollard
Our backpacks quickly became open bars. And in a way it seemed what the music wanted. Last year’s record of the year holders solidified their place on my mantle of brilliance with a show that was so full of energy and fun that the Roman Catholics could not have prayed for more discipline.
“Boys and girls in America have such a sad time together”
Bullshit Mr. Finn. I beg to differ. We had an amazing hour of snuck-in-booze and all those shitty-hand-off-kids from the Daft Punk show were there too. Doing what they do best. Doing more shitty hand-offs. Thanks kids. That was nice. What adds to the brilliance of “The Hold Steady” is how they are nostalgic like “Dazed and Confused” was nostalgic. Yes they sing about shitty times. But they are big moments in the characters’ lives. And yes, they are amazing. And brilliant. And Craig Finn is our Jarvis Cocker. He speaks for all of us. In fact, he might even talk to God. In short, their set was an hour long booze filled cruise through the lives of the boys and girls in America, and I sang along to every word.
Shouted really. The Seagram’s was speaking through me.
As we walked around and drank some more, we realized that sacrifices were too be made. Yes missing the “Yeah Yeah Yeah’s” was an easy choice. Seen them before, and it’s not much to speak of. However missing “Spoon” brought a single tear to my eye. But, I digress. We had a purpose. We had to summon the ghost of Ian Curtis. We needed prime real estate for “Interpol” who were assigned the task of headlining Saturday night. We fought our way to the front after a lame set by candidates for worst band name ever “Snow Patrol”. Mind you were still keyed up from “The Hold Steady” so battling our way to the front was not a problem.
Did I mention we each bought a 24 dollar bottle of wine?
Well that occurred sometime in the night. We thought the merlot would complement the music. We were half right.
We befriend our immediate people. Mexico City was represented. Toronto Canada was there as well. Canada was looking for drugs. Sorry brother, better chance at “The Hold Steady”. We were ready for “Interpol”. They did not let us down. When they took to the stage, the rain hid in the clouds. Not even it was brave enough to face the gloom of Paul Banks. Our slow hands quickly became fists that were pumped and pounded in beat with music. Again, we shouted every word. Rumor has it “Muse” was playing the other main stage. And rumor has it Iraq has nuclear weapons too. As far as we were concerned, no other band on the planet mattered. I’m glad Carlos D. shed the nazi look and grew a creepy bartender mustache. By the way, the mustache only made him play the bass even better.
Well done lads, well done. Ian Curtis would be proud.
We left, bruised and beaten. Soaked and determined. Thank you Interpol. I was afraid that no other live show would live up to the genius I had seen the night before. But once again I was wrong. Not even jail would have kept me from this show.

If we live. Tomorrow is full to the gills. But it is 4 in the morning and I need my rest. Tomorrow is the test of time. Farewell my sons and daughters. Until tomorrow…..

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