Bam a lam

In our family, we make up song lyrics all the time, especially in times of great stress. Yesterday wandering through the ACL dust bowl, punch drunk from the heat, we kept giggling our way through this one:

"Whoa black boogies
Bam a lam
Whoa black boogies
Bam a lam""

Which version varied from person to person. Leadbelly? Ram Jam? Myself, I had Nick Cave stuck in my head.

The heat and the dust were awful. By sundown Zilker Park looked like lower Manhattan on 9/11. A thick cloud of dust over everything, crowds of people with bandanas over their faces, coughing and spitting and pretending to have a good time.

Cass and Gina saw the Bravery and Arcade Fire, and then I joined them later for the Decemberists (only the Magnetic Fields can stoke my geek love any higher), a little Bob Mould (just the Husker Du songs), a little Wilco, Franz Ferdinand, and Tortoise (who were much more aggressive live than I expected).

Then I left them early while they checked out yet-another Coldplay clone called, uh, Coldplay.

The record heat and the dust made this more of a death march than previous years. Honestly, if they keep having it in September, I'm not completely sure I'm going to keep going back. I understand that they don't want to have it in October because the weather is so unpredictable. But in mid-September, the weather is all too predictable, and it's guaranteed to suck. New Orleans manages to hold Jazz Fest in April, and tell me April in New Orleans isn't a volatile weather season.

I say move it or lose it. The festival should be a weekend of fun, not a test of human endurance.

Pictures on the Flickr page, as usual.