Bonnaroo '09: Conclusion

"The difficulty of literature is not to write, but to write what you mean."

-Robert Louis Stevenson

"Write without pay until somebody offers to pay."

-Mark Twain





Of all my posts, this was definitely the most difficult to hammer out. It didn't come to me as easily. It didn't have any obvious flow or direction. I was forced to do something all writers hate, try harder. Even though it says it was posted in June, I have edited and re-edited this piece countless times. How do you sum up a truly life-changing experience? The best answer, I tell myself, is to remember it over time. That's why it took me so long, and it was the most bothersome to write, right?

Bonnaroo was a trade off, total freedom for mild to vast discomfort, on various levels. There was the obvious physical discomfort. Tent dwelling, the elements (heat/rain), lack of quality food, port-a-johns and bodies everywhere. There was also the mental. Keeping a hectic schedule that could change at the drop of a hat (or the cancellation of a show), little sleep and interacting with thousands and thousands of strangers. Throw in heavy drug use, and you get the idea. In both cases, I was forced to push myself to the limit and I am proud to say I came out a better, more rounded person in the end. I am more confident, as a writer, and as a man, thanks to the experience.

Electricity was in the air, something was happening every second. All I could do was attempt to document it, which I did a fairly good job of (in my opinion). Dr. Gonzo would be proud, Freak Power was alive and well in Manchester, Tennessee.

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Packing up the gear was dispiriting. As all good things must, our wild ride was coming to an end. I was hung over from the poisons in my system and from the stark reality that this chapter of my life was writing it's swan song. I was ready to go home, sleep in my bed, and shower, but I didn't want to leave. "Torn" is the word that comes to mind. The vast campsite was 75 percent vacant as the last stragglers bundled their belongings into their vehicles and got the hell out of Dodge.

The drive home was uneventful. The weather was nice, and I slept the whole way. I have never been able to sleep in a car, I guess that's a testament to how warn and broken I truly was. The best quote from the ride came from Dylan. He summed it up pretty well:

"In one day," he reflected, "we went from Jimmy Buffett to MGMT."

We quite literally spanned the musical spectrum. I had discovered new favorites and re-connected with old. My love for music, which has grown as I have, was never enforced more. I couldn't wait to tell my friends and burn them compilations. Since returning I have started reading Love is a Mix Tape by Rob Sheffield, and his words may have never rung as true without Bonnaroo. Do yourself a favor and read it if you've ever made a mix for anyone for any reason.

Life was different at the Roo. Time lost all meaning. You kept track of the hours that passed by who was playing where, and when. We smoked pot like cigarettes and drank alcohol like, well Phish (couldn't resist). We hallucinated, made new friends while growing closer all the while. In four days, I saw one fight and one arrest. 80,000 of us proved that, if only for a short while, utopia is possible as long as everyone can apply common sense and kindness. We all rallied around one goal or interest. In this case, music. It was amazing there weren't more problems. A truly beautiful sight indeed. I thought about that cold Columbus night, back in February, when my plan first began to take shape and I had to chuckle. Steve's words had rung true; he was right on all counts.

As I sit hear, listening to CDs (I think I may be the only person alive who still buys them) of bands I have discovered, the festivals true power becomes clear. My life has been forever altered. I know that I can push myself to the limit of physical and mental endurance and come back begging for more. On a broader scale, it brought greater awareness to nagging problems that man has plagued the earth with. On a physical level, things like global warming, strip mining and the need to recycle (thousands of pounds of solid waste created at Bonnaroo was diverted from the landfill thanks to Team Clean's efforts).On a fundamental level, the need to love one another and get along. I had received environmental and social educations as well as musical.

To concluded my story I can think of only one thing to do and it is by far the hardest, even harder than writing this post. It is impossible to pick one moment or one show as the definitive best and as many shows as I saw I missed even more. The following are my awards for Bonnaroo '09. Please let me know what you think and for those of you who were there, let the debate begin ...

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Best Show: Phish feat. Bruce Springsteen, and MGMT (cheating, I know, kiss my ass, it's my blog).

Best Performance/Performer: Bruce Springsteen

Best find: TV on the Radio, and Band of Horses (see comment on Best Show)

Best Cover: Mustang Sally, performed by Phish and Bruce

Best Guitar Player: Nels Cline of Wilco

Best/Sexiest Lead Singer: Karen O of the Yeah, Yeah, Yeahs

Best Outfit: the guy dressed as Spaceghost

Best Stage Show: Nine Inch Nails (this was very close, Phish gets honorable mention)

Best Surprise: tie between Bruce w/Phish and Jimmy Buffett w/Coral Reefer All-Stars

Most Impressed By: Beastie Boys (had no idea they had it in them and they can play!)

Best Crowd/Fans: Phish (because of seer size, MGMT was rowdier)

Best Beards: Band of Horses

Defining Moment: dancing/making out with anonymous hottie during MGMT's Electric Feel

Most Bummed I Missed: Snoop (honorable mention: Cage the Elephant, Delta Spirit, Ani DiFranco, Elvis Costello, and the Decemberists)


and now the other side of the coin ...


Worst Show: Heartless Bastards (sorry, just wasn't feeling it)

Worst Fans: Bruce Springsteen (most were drunk assholes from New Jersey)

Worst Line Up: Day 1, plus it rained

Biggest Jerk: Elvis Perkins

Worst Act: Jimmy Fallon (dude fucking sucks)

Most Unoriginal Fashion Statement: Tie-Dye

Worst Smell: Patchouli, it was ever present

Worst Encounter: Jeff Walden, Manchester's Finest

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There you have it. My take on the best weekend of my life. I look forward to doing it all again next year. Until than, keep reading, and I'll keep writing. New and fresh topics to come. To those of you thinking about whether or not it's all for you, I leave you with this; in the words of Hunter S. Thompson, "Buy the ticket, take the ride." What do you have to lose?


-J.R.