Pop 'stache

Day 3

All of the xylophone alarms in the world couldn’t drag me from bed. Too tired to even dream, I woke up at noon (Gasp!) and had to shamefully deal with this weakness that would force me to miss Titus Andronicus (whom I would later hear described as fantastic—damn it) and The Joy Formidable (fresh off that late night party with the Foo Fighters at Metro). When I finally arrived at 2 p.m., I luckily stumbled into the trustworthy ol’ PlayStation stage, where a band I had never heard of, Rival Schools, was killing it. These semi-professional or professional rock musicians were able to be this awake, this energetic and this cool sounding at the time I was just waking up, which put my life and the stereotypes of rockers into perspective. Regardless, they were oozing energy, and bandleader Walter Schreifels was rock-crooning song after song. They were the perfect pick-me-up, and warmed up the PlayStation Stage for what would be my favorite moment of the whole weekend.

But before that I had to go to the Kidzapalooza stage for 10 minutes to watch the founder of the fest, Santa Claus himself. Perry Farrell made a brief appearance to creepily sing to a bunch of kids whose parents made them sit in the front section so they could get closer to the Jane’s Addiction frontman. He was everything I had hoped he’d be—crazy-lean, almost plastic-looking and the embodiment of a rock-gypsy. But I only stayed for one of his acoustic ditties, because I was determined to get in the thick of it again for Cage the Elephant.

These five scruffians from Bowling Green, Ken., came onto the stage like the storm rolled in overhead. Blasting into one of their first singles, “In One Ear,” they challenged the crowd to match the onstage energy. We tried our darndest, but didn’t succeed amid the sweltering heat. However, once the skies opened and unleashed a near flash flood onto the dancing masses, the show became a rock-soaked rave of flashing lights, fuzzed guitars and houndish yelps from singer Matthew Shultz. After a few more of their hits from the recent release, Thank You, Happy Birthday, Shultz told the crowd this was one of the special moments he would remember for the rest of his life. We erupted with cheers and he erupted into the crowd, tossing his own body like a wrecking ball. Closing with the punk blast “Sabertooth Tiger” after the hits “Ain’t No Rest For The Wicked” and “Shake Me Down,” Cage The Elephant left a soaked and happy crowd grooving and shaking in their wake.

While it was a neat sensation feeling cold for the first time since late May, I got over it fast and was determined to find a similar spot for Foo Fighters’ headlining set in two hours.

I hit up Kuma’s Corner (standing in line for 15 minutes is nothing to the 3 hours it can take at the restaurant—worth it!) and found a spot on the hill to settle in as dirty yuppie after dirty hippie took turns playing human-mud-bowling in front of me. Arctic Monkeys were delayed, came and went. Explosions in the Sky were delayed, came and went. As Explosions hurried to finish their climactic last few notes, Dave Grohl decided the fans had been deprived of stadium ready rock songs long enough. Grohl marched the Foo Fighters on the festival’s largest stage and glared across the field as rumbling bass coursed through the ground.

Diving into two increasingly more well known tracks from their new album Wasting Light, Foo Fighters took few breaks, as much as Grohl sounded like he could have used one. Hit after hit, scream after scream, tom roll after tom roll, the Foo fought through a second wallop of downpour and gave the people what they wanted. Grohl’s throaty performance never once lacked the gusto that gives him the epithet of rock’s best and most likeable frontman. There were no big surprises here. No special appearances. Foo Fighters have been one of rocks heaviest hitters for 16 years, and this was the band’s first Lollapalooza. Amid the rain, the mud, and the muck, this was their time to shine. With the help of songs even your mom knows and a few lights from arena tours, Foo Fighters did in fact shine, and provided a fitting close to my Lollapalooza.

I limped on mud-soaked shoes back to the Red Line, desperate for sleep and silence, I thought of everything from the weekend, including the many triumphs and slight let downs that make Lollapalooza so memorable. I thought of Perry Claus’ accomplishment of bringing hundreds of thousands together to experience unique and polarizing music for three very long days every year. And then, sure enough, there was a slowly creeping voice in the catacombs of my tinnitus filled mind. “Only 364 days until the next one.”