The finale... (continued from Day 2)

DAY 3:

?:??pm – …total exhaustion, end of the rope, just enough to hang myself…

FIERY FURNACES:

3:00pm – Whoops. Stuck in the hammock.

VAMPIRE WEEKEND:

3:30pm – People
dancing…jumpy-flip-flop-two-step-filthy-feet-and-crushed-cowboy-hat-zombie-walk.
Why do people hate Vampire Weekend so much? It’s about time somebody
came along willing to admit that they’re both rich and soft. And it
sounds soo nice…

N.E.R.D:

5:15pm – Half hour late; Skateboard P was stuck in traffic.
P - “WHAT’S UP VANCOUVER?!?!”
(Brief pause)
P - “Alright, someone just told me this is Pemberton…but who gives a fuck? We’re in motherfucking Canada!”
(Rapturous applause).

It’s times like these I wish I was in to this or that band. This
probably would have been the best show of the festival if I gave a shit
about N.E.R.D. Bring dem girlies on stage and grind up on dey legs, P!

DEATH CAB FOR CUTIE:

6:45pm – The whole thing is behind schedule now. Back in the hammock
listening to Ben Gibbard sing a pretty damn good indie rock song…100
degrees and willow trees and yr so cute when yr slurring yr speech… Is
it too late for me to kind of get into this? Me not caring…now.

JAY-Z:

8:20pm – (I don’t have any notes for this. What I remember is saying
“My God,” repeatedly, laughing ecstatically, throwing up at least one
Roc diamond, pumping my fist like a suburban rich kid, rapping along to
any words I could remember, and generally having about as good of a
time as I had all weekend. You sort of forget how many massive bonafide
hits the man has had over the years until he plays them
back-to-back-to-back for an hour and twenty minutes. When “Show Me What
Ya Got” is the weakest song in yr setlist…well, you know. At the end of
the show I turn around smiling and MB, still staring at the stage,
deadpans “That was the most depressing thing I’ve ever seen.” Yeah,
dude made it. Give it up for the Jigga man.)

COLDPLAY:

10:15pm – The consensus is “Yellow” is the best song ever written,
just ahead of “Wonderwall.” They play it early in the set. We spend the
rest of the set loudly asking “Have they played ‘Yellow’ yet?” or “Was
that ‘Yellow’?” and demanding “Hey Chris Martin, play ‘Yellow’!” Actual
Coldplay fans are getting progressively more angry/annoyed. Lasers ping
around the mountains. My view of the stage is dominated by a huge,
inflatable Mocha Freeze cup. We retire from the scaffold to calmly sip
beers on the deck and let Coldplay soundtrack the festival comedown.
Almost anything is paletteable with these acoustics. All, most.

CUBETRON/DENOUEMENT:

1:30am – The festival grounds are almost deserted. It’s a moonscape;
trash decorates the field in intervals so regular it looks like some
acres-wide post-mod take on designer handbag print. Here and there a
deserted chair still stands amid the ruins. Heavy machinery rumbles
back and forth as a small crew works to dismantle the Mt Currie stage.
We wander towards the Bacardi B-Live tent – the Rave Cave – probably
the most neglected venue of the weekend on my part, due to long lines
and disinterest. The Crystal Method are still DJing but the security at
the gate won’t let anybody in. On our way back we pass the Cubetron,
“5760 computer controlled, colour changing LED lights in a 10 foot high
cage [programmed to create] 30 minutes of mesmerizing visual stimuli.”
Fifteen or twenty of the last, wasted souls stare vapidly into the
blinking spectacle. For a few seconds I join them, but the lights are
bright and my eyes are sore and even in my weakened state I know it’s
just a bigger and more obnoxious reinvention of the lava lamp. And the
lava lamp itself is a reinvention of…what?

2:56am – Bed, on the floor of the cabin. Dog hair and a foamy.
Looking forward to tomorrow and a five hour drive when once it was two.
Test run for the Olympics indeed. Disaster. Turn out the bright lights.