And so this time it was a family affair, packed my teen and her friends into a brinkmobile, hit the road. What more say? There was not a shred of counter culture cept maybe some of the bands themselves, everything segregated, ravers to the left, folkies to the right, stoners up all night. Searching for that it, for that woodstock trigger, that memory of a performance... still searching.

M.I.A. and Leonard Cohen brought it, but not many did. Hardly anyone represented me. Mindlessly thin Southern California girls working so hard to tan that spot between bellybutton and the void. Black Audi's and Silver Jettas fighting it out for the official transportation for Indie Music lovers. Almost fascist no in's or out cow herding policies put in place so the crowd technicians could practice the kind of mind control needed when running a modern concentratin camp. Repeat after me, can anyone say QUARANTINE BIRD VIRUS LSD Jim Jones?

Lackluster performances from the big stage which seemed to cater to the lack and the luster. Paul was sad, almost heartbreaking in the way he conjured up the dead without any real power, his voice gone about 5 years ago, catering to nobody, not even himself. Killers proved you can take the college from a college band but you can't take the college band from their studio... aging guitar rockers everywhere, the ugliest playing with Paul, facelifts on 80's rockers are a strange thing to admire on 50 foot tall video screens, big hair on the big stage with the main killer telling us, almost an apology, how he found these guys on Craigslist one winter back in Vegas.

Surprising soul from Morrisey trying so hard to contain it. The smaller stages seemed to produce more actual music, more brutal sounds, Calexico showing what music happens when actual musicians get together.

Almost better than the music was the art installations, which says something about the art installations. A tesla coil amped up real beautiful. A giant hand, if you could fit the glove you could pick up the car and drop it, crush it. And that was the mantra. Crush the cars.