Dusty Roo Blues

Ascension to Bonnaroo kicks assess, which is why I write to you friends from the middle of day three about a glorious day two.

It’s hot here kids, hot enough to warm a beer before you can drink it.  And there are no reprieves from the clouds.  Mix that up with a lung-clogging, chalky dust kicked up from 80,000 pairs of feet and crack an I’m-not-missing-that-much smile.  You’ve got air-conditioning, right? 

No, you’re not missing anything.  The Cold War Kids didn’t melt minds, channeling Jeff Buckley funk rock madness.  Those Chicago post-rock legends, Tortoise, didn’t rage a drum/clap riot with a sea of half-naked festival-goers frolicking about a giant mushroom fountain.  Indie explosionites, Annuals, they didn’t make their first festival appearance ever, only to strip down to an all-acoustic set.  Akron lo-fi bluesers, The Black Keys?  They only showed up two people deep, and actually tried to pull off the sound of a seven-piece band, literally ripping holes in their amps through the process.

When the sun finally dipped off behind This Tent, That Tent, The Other Tent – seriously, that’s what they call their stages, another baffling element – Tool tried to be all high-brow metal as the day’s closer, implementing lasers that Pink Floyd would murder for.  Maynard wailed for a good two hours, as the rest of the band tomahawked art rock fills and refrains. 

There was a good hour break for those still alive/conscious to find a 12 a.m. show.  It’s tiring, it really is, braving the Tennessee elements.  It’s hard, when sun-beaten and booze rattled, to justify a Superjam with Ben Harper on a steel lap guitar, ?uestlove on drums and John Paul Jones rehashing Zeppelin glory on “Dazed and Confused,” or blazing through Stevie Wonder soul gems like “Superstition.”

But air conditioning is better than rock and roll, no? 

Hasta Sunday…