Coachella Or Bust (or Bake in 97 Degree Heat)
It's that time of year again. Time for the only "LA" music festival in the world. A time when the two concert-a-year crowd (three if Wolfmother comes to town) rents lavish houses in the desert, throws killer parties and dangles their VIP passes like they were Wayne and Garth backstage at an Alice Cooper concert.
I will be staying at a Motel 6 and will not be a VIP. Consequently, my life is not worth living. However, I am currently en route to the Desert, trying not to ward off frightening battery of hippies, Hollywood types and scariest of all, die-hard Rage fans. (Then again, they can't be worse than Tool).
So I've left you all with a monster Best Of post (a final list won't be compiled for another week....Joey and I need accountants...which you think would be quite easy to find for two Jews, but not so much). No posting Monday but expect a Day One of Coachella write-up by mid-day Tuesday. If you want coverage in the meantime, go to the Times' website's Coachella Coverage. I will be helping the Buzz Bands' Coachella Blog. (And while you're at it, check out this Times feature I wrote for Thursday's Calendar on Family Los Angeles, a very cool new book/music shop in town.)
Brunette Like Me attends the really great Sunset Rubdown show that I attended the other night but didn't have time to write about.
Blockhead dissects the idiocy of Mims.
New blog to check for is Chickens Don't Clap. It does not have the clap, but hopefully it will have chickens.
See other Top 25 Lists:
Audio Deficit Disorder
8 Million Stories
Fresh Cherries From Yakima
From Da Bricks
Gorilla Vs. Bear
Just Sayin' (1, 2)
Slushy Gutter Summer
Until the Train Stops