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Thriving on ACL + Bjork
Last year, I just survived. This year, I’ve thrived. So far.
My 2006 Austin City Limits Festival was marked by a cardiovascular event on Barton Springs Road that felt a lot like a near-death experience.
So I altered my plans for 2007.
But first, fate intervened. I spent Friday afternoon in the newsroom editing reports from our platoon of writers in the field, especially news regarding the fire that engulfed a service RV and two 18-wheelers. Still waiting to hear about the critically burned employees — and we’re hoping for the best. They were taken to Brooke Army Medical Center in San Antonio, never a good sign.
The sun had set by the time I set out toward Zilker Park. People passed me, shellacked with sweat, their eyes turned inward with that defeated-by-the-heat look. I ran into various Austin mini-celebrities, such as artist Leslie Pierce and photographer Shelley Wood.
It was not until I reached the field that I realized that a huge factor in the annual heat crisis came from — other concert-goers. Put 65,000 or so human beings in close proximity, without air-conditioning on a 90-degree+ day and, well, you get some stinky temps.
Which was not so bad, as long as I rested in front of a stage for a super-sophisticated group such as the Gotan Project — part tango, part electronica — or for the headliner for the evening, Bjork. Dressed in what looked like from a distance an iridescent puss-print mumu and dancing like a virgin about to make the sacrificial leap into a volcano, she was backed by a female horn section who resembled a pack of 1960s prom queens gone bad.
Or something from Wagner, which was appropriate, since Bjork’s music follows in the post-Wagnerian musical traditions of protracted, complex harmonics pierced by dramatic wailing. And, in this case, flailing. It was swell, for about 45 minutes.
Then I headed out, along with the shirt-free mobs onto Barton Springs Boulevard, where the mood was expansive and people actually treated each other with a sort of baked Austin courtesy. Makes me wonder if the Big State Festival in College Station, pumped up on just as much booze and hormones, will be as Edenic. We’ll see.
Tonight, I’ll soak up air-conditioning in the VIP tent. That’s supposed to be my beat anyway. Funny, how almost nobody is talking about celebrities this weekend. Just the heat and the music. Which is fine by me.
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