White Fabric

Ever have one of those epiphanies, where just the sight, sound, or smell of something triggers a flood of memories?

I was reading this about Coachella 2006:

There always seems to be one ubiquitous T-shirt at every edition of the Coachella Valley Music and Arts Festival in Indio, Calif. Sometimes it's merely a band shirt, like Siouxsie & the Banshees or, no joke, Rooney. In 2004, it was a black shirt with George Bush on it, along with the words, "Not My President." And this past weekend, some individuals paraded around the Empire Polo Fields just a few hours south of Las Vegas sporting "Madonna Killed Coachella" on their tees.

Ever since promoters of the venerable event announced the addition of the former Material Girl to its 80-plus artist Coachella 2006 roster, some of the festival's diehard fans declared the premiere music festival in the United States had finally jumped the shark. Pre-concert quibbling continued online last week with the last-minute booking of Kanye West, one of last year's most commercially successful pop acts.

Just Saturday night, I watched portions of the new movie "Coachella", on DVD. I bought the movie (sight unseen, even though it recently-ran at the Crest Theater) since it seemed likely that it might be fun. And indeed, there are fun parts - the fellow who invented all kinds of quixotic, Burning-Man style robots comes first to mind. But a lot of the acts are - well, not that good. This collegiate critic seems to have nailed the problems, but opinions differ: Variety liked it, for example.

Watching the movie, I was worried, at first, when I saw Fischerspooner preparing to take the stage. The big white tent looked amateurish, the stage looked pedestrian, and the dancers with the feathered headdresses looked small and vulnerable. Not until the lights kicked in and the dancers started moving did I revel in the fun of this group I had heard of, but never seen.

And I was looking at the fabric of the tent - the fabric of the white tent - and then suddenly I was back in Tucson, in 1985, at a bizarre Science-Expo-Culture event slammed together by well-meaning, but clueless, promoters, and hosted in a series of white, fabric tents in the parking lot of Tucson's El Con Mall. Inside one of the tents, I watched a tall, handsome man, dressed in coat-and-tails, sing opera, accompanied by piano, all the while a mechanical wood chipper, operated by city employees, ground away at eucalyptus branches in the park directly across the street. Opera Man could barely be heard above the sporadic, keening mechanical roar. He kept his composure, but reading his face, I feared for the future of Tucson Parks & Recreation employees.

Cultural events in outdoor tents are always chancy. Opera is very vulnerable, rock concerts are better (e.g., Fischerspooner, and hopefully Madonna), and circuses are best (once again, hopefully Madonna)! She's coming soon to San Jose, isn't she?

Here is Fischerspooner's 'Emerge':

Hi
Huh-I
Hyper
Hyper-media-ocrity
You don't need to
Emerge from nothing
You don't need to
Tear away
You don't need to
Tear away
Feels good
Looks good
Sounds good
Looks good
Feels good too
Feels good too
(Uh-huh that's right)
Feels good too
(Uh-huh that's right)
You don't need to
Emerge from nothing
You don't need to
Tear away
You don't need to
Emerge from nothing
You don't need to
Tear away
(Uh huh that's right)
(Uh huh that's right)
You don't need to
Emerge from nothing
You don't need to
Tear away
You don't need to
Emerge from nothing
You don't need to
Tear away
You don't need to
Emerge from nothing
You don't need to
Tear away
You don't need to
Emerge from nothing
You don't need to
Tear away
[Modem noise]: Look alive!
You don't need to
Emerge from nothing
You don't need to
Tear away