We Are The World
I don't quite know what to say about my weekend at Phillyl's Live 8. I could throw my cap in with the rest of the cultureal commentators and complain that MTV's coverage was embarassingly terrible (which it was--C'mon, I want to see music--namely music form the shows in Tokyo, Johannesburg, and London and all of the places that I couldn't be, not watch your simpering VJs talk over Pink Floyd or watch another commercial for the Real World.) but that's not necessary. You all know the coverage sucked and I entreat everyone to watch the stream at AOLMusic instead. The strean will be up for like six weeks. And I could complain about the shitty bland acts in Philly versus the other concerts (Will Smith vs Bjork? No contest! Toby Keith vs. Green Day? Please!) But even that strikes me as trivial. Yes, the lineup was a little stale (Big Willie actually performed "Summertime" a hit that definitely predates my high school experience and possibly even my breats!) but the spirit felt triumphant.
It was exciting to be standing out in the hot sun in my oft-overlooked hometown, while the ironist in me laughed and pointed at the Jersey girls who were singing along and waving at the JUMBOTRON while Bon Jovie was on! The crowd's enthusiasm was infectious (just how my boyfriend Bob intended it) and by the time Kanye West was on (perhaps the best Philly performer) me and Lacey (shout out to Lacey!) were singing along and dancing just like the rest of the fools in the audience! In fact, speaking of Kanye, his Live 8 performance was the first time I ever really liked "Jesus Walks," even if it is a kind of inappropriate sentiment while supposedly supporting starving Africans who've already been bombarded with missionaries for three hundred years or so.
So in case you need a tally: Number of bands seen live: 5 (The Marleys, Bon Jovi, Destiny's Child, Kanye West, and Will Smith.) Number of acts I'm not counting because they caused me to actually leave Live 8: 1 (Toby Keith) Number of times Lacey tried to leave, but was instead infiltrated by me: at least 4. (Once I had to stop for a real Philly soft pretzel, once to search for a legit Live 8 t-shirt--not a shitty homemade one-- once to let my homemade spirit take over as Will Smith was carried to the stage on a throne by six guys, while women threw rose petals at his feet and Jazzy Jeff played a loop from Ali that says "Here Comes the Champ," and finally once to wait while I swooned over a jumbotron broadcase from London of Bobby G. introducing Madonna as well as an Ethiopian girl who was near death at the time of Live Aid and now just graduated from college. Yes, I got teary. ) Number of SPF of the sunscreen in my bag: 35 (I am a pale, pale girl!) Number of SPF I was wearing: 0 On a scale of 1-10, how bad is my sunburn: 6.5 Number of acts watched on TV at Lacey's apartment: Hard to tell because of all the shitty jump cuts that MTV did, but at least 5. (Shakira in Paris, Green Day doing "We Are the Champions" in Berlin, the Killers doing most of "All the Things That I've Done," Jay-Z with Linking Park, and a nanosecond of the Pink Floyd reunion.) Number of bands I actually cared about seeing in Philly: 3 (Kaiser Chiefs, Jay-Z, and Kanye West.) Of those the number I actually saw: 1 (Just Kanye. The Kaiser Chiefs went on before I got there--and before the concert actually started, I might add. And Jay-Z went on after I left because I was too hot, too sunburned, and hated Toby Keith too much.) Amount that I heart Bob Geldoff: Lots.
So, in short, the cynic in me wants to laugh at the lame bands I saw and weird people in the crowd, but there is a part of me (and it is the part that is slowly taking over) that felt like real change was being made on Saturday and got swept up in that feeling. Plus, now I get to go watch Bjork and the Killers, and the Who on aol....
PS: The weirdest part for me was seeing the Killers come onstage for the big "Hey Jude" finale and seeing Ronnie "March 31st, Irving Plaza!" Vanucci standing next to Sir Paul. I mean these are guys who I saw play at Don Hills with 100 people in the room. They are guys I've harassed at Rothko ("All Killer, no filler," not being one of my proudest moments). And here they are, onstage with greats--Rock'n'Roll royalty--in front of hundreds of thousands of people who are singing along with them. It was crazy. It made me feel like I could've played Live 8. (Don't worry, I know that is delusional thinking.)
It was exciting to be standing out in the hot sun in my oft-overlooked hometown, while the ironist in me laughed and pointed at the Jersey girls who were singing along and waving at the JUMBOTRON while Bon Jovie was on! The crowd's enthusiasm was infectious (just how my boyfriend Bob intended it) and by the time Kanye West was on (perhaps the best Philly performer) me and Lacey (shout out to Lacey!) were singing along and dancing just like the rest of the fools in the audience! In fact, speaking of Kanye, his Live 8 performance was the first time I ever really liked "Jesus Walks," even if it is a kind of inappropriate sentiment while supposedly supporting starving Africans who've already been bombarded with missionaries for three hundred years or so.
So in case you need a tally: Number of bands seen live: 5 (The Marleys, Bon Jovi, Destiny's Child, Kanye West, and Will Smith.) Number of acts I'm not counting because they caused me to actually leave Live 8: 1 (Toby Keith) Number of times Lacey tried to leave, but was instead infiltrated by me: at least 4. (Once I had to stop for a real Philly soft pretzel, once to search for a legit Live 8 t-shirt--not a shitty homemade one-- once to let my homemade spirit take over as Will Smith was carried to the stage on a throne by six guys, while women threw rose petals at his feet and Jazzy Jeff played a loop from Ali that says "Here Comes the Champ," and finally once to wait while I swooned over a jumbotron broadcase from London of Bobby G. introducing Madonna as well as an Ethiopian girl who was near death at the time of Live Aid and now just graduated from college. Yes, I got teary. ) Number of SPF of the sunscreen in my bag: 35 (I am a pale, pale girl!) Number of SPF I was wearing: 0 On a scale of 1-10, how bad is my sunburn: 6.5 Number of acts watched on TV at Lacey's apartment: Hard to tell because of all the shitty jump cuts that MTV did, but at least 5. (Shakira in Paris, Green Day doing "We Are the Champions" in Berlin, the Killers doing most of "All the Things That I've Done," Jay-Z with Linking Park, and a nanosecond of the Pink Floyd reunion.) Number of bands I actually cared about seeing in Philly: 3 (Kaiser Chiefs, Jay-Z, and Kanye West.) Of those the number I actually saw: 1 (Just Kanye. The Kaiser Chiefs went on before I got there--and before the concert actually started, I might add. And Jay-Z went on after I left because I was too hot, too sunburned, and hated Toby Keith too much.) Amount that I heart Bob Geldoff: Lots.
So, in short, the cynic in me wants to laugh at the lame bands I saw and weird people in the crowd, but there is a part of me (and it is the part that is slowly taking over) that felt like real change was being made on Saturday and got swept up in that feeling. Plus, now I get to go watch Bjork and the Killers, and the Who on aol....
PS: The weirdest part for me was seeing the Killers come onstage for the big "Hey Jude" finale and seeing Ronnie "March 31st, Irving Plaza!" Vanucci standing next to Sir Paul. I mean these are guys who I saw play at Don Hills with 100 people in the room. They are guys I've harassed at Rothko ("All Killer, no filler," not being one of my proudest moments). And here they are, onstage with greats--Rock'n'Roll royalty--in front of hundreds of thousands of people who are singing along with them. It was crazy. It made me feel like I could've played Live 8. (Don't worry, I know that is delusional thinking.)
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