Being the music lover that I am there is no excuse for me not to attend what has become the largest music festival in North America; the ever burgeoning Bonnaroo. This is my second year attending this cultural monster and I admit it is my last.
Situated in Manchester, Tennessee, Bonnaroo hosts a quarter of a million guests and features the hottest up and comers as well as established giants of the music scene. The Bonnaroo license has been bought by Viacom, the media conglomerate that owns both MTV and VH1, and it’s a sign of the direction that Bonnaroo is headed.
I personally love the fact that Bonnaroo has such a wide variety of genres and artists, it attracts a wide spectrum of music fans- but apparently the spirit of peace and love that was once associated with music isn’t strong enough here to keep the stereotyping and schism out of the campground.
The Bonnaroo attendees seem to have split up into two camps, the jam band loving hippies, and the jam band hating alt/pop rockers. I don’t want to further any schisms by pointing them out, but the two tribes seem at odds with each other here, trash talking each other’s bands and lifestyles. It’s not as much about music, peace, or love as it is about identity and the scene. It’s like high school all over again.
Perhaps I’m naïve to believe that the societal atmosphere at music festivals should be any different than the divided populace of our nation. Left and right, white and black- I thought those terms didn’t matter at festivals.
The simple fact is that Bonnaroo has grown too large for its own good. It is extremely well organized and executed. It was nearly perfectly run. I’m not criticizing the organizers or promoters, I’m merely lamenting the change of vibe that seems to have occurred.
Festivals are usually a place of happiness and peace- But Bonnaroo seems to be getting darker with each year. Several guns were confiscated and hard drugs were easier to find than a simple joint. I witnessed someone shooting up heroin in the campground and kids trolled the area shouting for Ketamine and “pharmies” (pills). Drugs have always been a part of the music scene, but there are diabolical drugs that I feel have no place in the spirit of the music festival. Drugs that kill you aren’t good.
I don’t like sounding like a prude, but I honestly felt uncomfortable. People’s campsites were getting robbed, including friends of ours that had their belongings stolen. This was happening all over the campground and we had to make sure that we had everything locked away in my car. This is something that I’m definitely not used to.
I love to walk around with my guitar and meet people to jam with. It’s a part of the festival life that I relish. However there didn’t seem to be many jam sessions going on and as I walked around I was even told by a few kind music lovers to, “Get out of here you Chinese faggot.” I’m used to the faux pas of being called Chinese, but not often am I called a faggot, and especially not at music festival for playing my guitar.
But the main reason why I came was to see some good music, and good music there was. It’s exhilarating to walk around Centeroo and hear music coming from every direction. With a short walk one could see all types of bands, from Les Claypool to Damien Marley, Bonnie Rait to Medeski, Martin, and Wood, Buddy Guy, The Neville Brothers, Oysterhead, Matisyahu, Bela Fleck and the Flecktones, Sonic Youth, Cypress Hill, and Radiohead.
Radiohead was perhaps the most controversial band of the lineup. People either loved or hated them, they caused quite a stir. Some said they didn’t belong, while some paid the $200 ticket price solely to witness this elusive art rock band. They put on a powerful show and their dark electronic vibe took over the wide field of the main stage. Even the trash talking hippies had to admit that there was definite talent apparent in the unique music of Radiohead. The sign of great art is the strength of the reaction of its audience. Whether they found it beautiful or repulsive, no one could deny the artistry of Radiohead.
The Superjam was perhaps the most talked about and anticipated show of the weekend- It’s the surprise gathering of musicians chosen from different bands to get together for an impromptu jam session. A crowd of 15,000 eagerly awaited the surprise lineup and were not disappointed when Trey Anastasio, Mike Gordon, and the Benevento Russo duo stepped onto the stage. It was the closest thing to a Phish show that fans would be able to see and for the first half of the set they did not disappoint. Hundreds of glow sticks flew through the air in conjunction with the rambunctious jamming of the musicians.
Suddenly Phil Lesh of the Grateful Dead stepped onto the stage to thunderous applause and the superjam ran through “Casey Jones“ and “Goin’ Down The Road Feelin’ Bad”. It was a unique moment and the energy had been the greatest I’d seen so far. After the surprise guest appearance the band moved into a few new songs that Trey and Mike had written. They were well done but lacked the energy of the first few jams and the die-hard Phish fans lamented the songwriter side of Trey. That is one man that people seem to love to hate.
The greatest crowd pleaser was perhaps Matisyahu- I didn’t even try to squeeze my way to his show, all I could do was listen and hear the frenzied crowd respond feverishly to the orthodox Jew’s calls. Many fans told me they thought this was the best show.
However my favorite show all around was the closing performance by Phil and Friends. Choosing him as a headliner was homage to the Grateful Dead and showed that the Bonnaroo organizers had not forsaken the roots of the festival. Jazz guitarist John Scofield and Larry Campbell of Dylan’s band flanked the bass player and singer Joan Osborne provided the soaring vocals needed to complement Phil’s honest but mediocre voice. I’ve never heard the songs of the Dead performed like they were on that closing night of Bonnaroo. The rain began pouring during the second set and made it an official Bonnaroo weekend. Phil closed with an encore of “Box Of Rain”, a fitting tribute to his father on father’s day. I was musically satisfied and was ready to go home.
Despite the unsavory experiences in the campground, the music all but made up for whatever negativity there might have been. However I’ve been spoiled by the smaller festivals such as Sunshine Daydream, where even the mention of heroin will get you expelled and banned from the farm, and nearly every camper brings their instrument for a jam session.
Maybe I’m getting old, but Bonnaroo’s getting a bit too much for me to take- I won’t go there again. But I’ll see you at Sunshine Daydream where I don’t have to worry about getting robbed.