Warm Steel
(2007.08.04 / 02:39:56 /FIELD OF HEAVEN)

Hot Shots
(2007.08.04 / 02:09:28 /POW)

On the Ropes
(2007.08.04 / 01:22:11 /POW)

Off the top of my head
(2007.08.04 / 00:13:47 /OTHER)

Feel Childish
(2007.08.04 / 00:00:00 /OTHER)

Mile-High Club
(2007.08.03 / 23:46:02 /WHITE STAGE)

The Chemical Brothers
(2007.08.03 / 15:05:21 /GREEN STAGE)

Chroméo
(2007.08.03 / 10:53:12 /RED MARQUEE)

Clap Your Hands Say Yeah
(2007.08.03 / 10:48:04 /RED MARQUEE)

The Beastie Boys
(2007.08.03 / 00:44:55 /GREEN STAGE)

Soul Flower Union
(2007.08.02 / 23:40:43 /FIELD OF HEAVEN)

Infernal Varanne's Globe of Death
(2007.08.02 / 21:38:45 /POW)

Nikujaga
(2007.08.02 / 10:37:14 /POW)

Seti And Futaba With Tabla Kwaiesa?
(2007.08.02 / 09:43:26 /OASIS AREA)

Peter, Bjorn and John
(2007.08.01 / 21:48:46 /RED MARQUEE)

The Beastie Boys

know when to let the beat

mmmmmmmmm

drop

Down front is where they're supposed to get crazy. That's where the action is supposed to happen. The Beastie Boys have two decades worth of tracks custom built to make sure the action happens. I was ready. Backpack in the tent. Fully hydrated. Well rested. You have to prepare to go ape shit. Ape shit doesn't just happen. There are circumstances. Mitigating circumstances. If you have to pee at the wrong time, things could be bad. If you suddenly wish you were a little drunker than you are, well, that sort of thing can really bring a man down. If you've got too much crap in your pocket and its digging into your leg...you know, that kind of thing could be dangerous when time comes and you realize it's a sabotage. All ya'll.

So you gotta be prepared. I thought I was. Down near the front. Mix Master Mike takes the stage first, flipping records left and right like wise guy at a Bar Mitzvah. That guy coulda backed up Sammy Davis Jr. Body moving. Beasties take the stage. Suits and ties. I was wondering. I didn't know...what does a Beastie Boy wear onstage? Some real class being demonstrated there. Disco breaking. It's the joint. Shake your Rump-a. Sure shot. Money making. Three guys from Brooklyn in the mountains of Japan, three guys from Brooklyn with mic's in their hand...can I get an OHHHHHHH!

They've got the drum kit. Anything could happen. A sabotage could happen. The drum kit is there. The drum kit means a Sabotage could happen.

After a couple hip-hop tracks, they pick up the instruments. They started loud and hard and they keep it up with a few punk cuts. The Beatsie BOOOOOOOYYYS, they are they goin home. And then it's Time For Living. Ape shit could break out, but we're not ready. Not yet. Not time for ape shit. So they cut it back, keep the bass and guitar, groove holmes a little. You know I came to get down...but something about the smell of sweat and breath. It's too crowded up here near the front. And this dude's arm waving in my face is bugging me. I suddenly wish I was a little drunker than I am. I figure I got time. I leave my pristine spot front and center. I figure I can get back if I need to. Head over to the Heine tent, grab a brew. Hoping I haven't made a costly error. What if a Sabotage happens and I'm standing in line for a beer? Will I ever forgive myself?

It takes a good half hour to take care of business, but I'm two beers heavier when all is said and done. I figure if I get two beers I can break back through the crowd with impunity, as it will look as though I am carrying a beer to my girlfriend whom I have left behind in the crowd. No one will begrudge me that. And if they do, well, maybe I'll just have to break into their locker and smash their glasses.

Suddenly, two beers is too much though. I'm halfway through the first one and my head is saying yes to the second but my stomach is saying no. So I find some friends and pass it. Pass the mic. Share the love. I'm pushing through, things are heating up a bit, I'm waiting for ape shit to happen. Have to time this right. Can't have a beer in my hand when ape shit happens. Watcha watcha watcha want? I wanna throw down. I push through, closer to the front. Watcha want? I want someone to hit me. My compatriots are standing too still. What's this? Where's the ape shit people? I try dancing a little. I bump people. I push through. I'm stepping on toes, feel like I'm maybe being a jerk. I justify: these people don't deserve to be within 50 yards of the stage if they're standing still during Watcha Want. Damn. There is a notable lack of ape shitness going on here, and it's not right. There is no sleep til Brooklyn, except for the people around me. They appear to be sleeping. Can't you people hear the words coming out of their mouths? NO SLEEP TIL...

Intergalactic. Gotta find the action. Planetary. Push toward the center. Planetary. Intergalactic. I'm about to solve this Watergate.

Show stops. Horse crap. It's not over. An encore is coming.

3 minute break, Mix Master Mike is back out, some more technology. Shocking. Amazing. Beasties take the stage again, pick up the instruments. More punk. Hell yeah. Go nuts. I've found it. Center right stage, here's some guys who came to get down. Thrashing to the punk rock. Don't know these songs. No one really KNOWS a Beastie Boys punk song, but we're glad they're there, like lettuce in a BLT. Breaks up the monotony. But listen all ya'll, there's something else we've been waiting for. LISTEN ALL YA'LL. LISTEN ALL YA'LL! Listen all ya'll, all three ya'll Beasties, are you gonna give it to us? It's been twenty long years since 1987 when you told the young men in my Junior High School to fight for their right, and they listened. They scared me with all the rights they were willing to fight for. I was still into Van Halen, no time for this 'hippity hop' stuff. You guys scared me, too, Mike D, Ad-Rock, and the other Adam. MCA. But we grew together. Those kids who were always giving me two for flinching in Junior High School, who kicked my Master Lock down the hall when I wasn't looking, where are they now? Are they in the mountains of Japan, waiting to go ape shit with me? No, probably not. Here's hoping they're working third shift right now trying to support some punk ass 13 year old kid who knows everything.

No, I take that back. I'm not bitter. But here we are, you and me Beasties. We grew together. You went to college with me...Ma Bell's Got the Ill Communication...staring down the barrel of a gun, son of a gun, son of a bitch, gettin paid getting rich...and I dropped my guard, my presuppositions of what music has to be grew. I decided you guys were probably better than Foghat. I did that for you. Listen all ya'll, you owe me. Forget this crowd. They're a little dead, yeah, but come on, it's you and me.

"Last song", they say. "Last song," they warn. Do they mean it? Surely...

"We call this one Sabotage." Ape shit happens. The Dalai Lama himself hast blessed this moment. In my next life I want to be a Beastie. I'll show those punks from Junior High, Buddha bless their third-shift working souls.


Reported by kern (2007.08.03 / 00:44)