concert review

There is nothing quite like a bad trip on a psychedelic drug to make one appreciate sobriety. The events that took place this past Saturday reiterated this fact all too well.

I woke up on the day of the 9th with a plan. I was to meet my friend Kyle at 3:30 in the afternoon at the lovely Liberty State Park in Jersey City, New Jersey. Upon arrival, we were to each intake an 1/8 of ’shrooms and enter the grounds of the park which, for the weekend, belonged to the thousands of people attending the brand new music & arts festival “All Points West.” My drug buddy and I had attended the festivities the previous night and caught absolutely fantastic performances by Grizzly Bear, Michael Franti & Spearhead, Little Brother, New Pornographers, CSS, Girl Talk, and of course, the headliners themselves, Radiohead. We had managed to remain sober throughout the entire day and enjoyed almost every single minute of it (this excluded certain sound difficulties in the beginning of the festival that made a show by The Go! Team almost unbearable – it was far, far too loud) so for Saturday’s continuation of the festival we decided to spice things up.

And that we did. The mushrooms kicked in almost immediately – actually, while we were standing in line to enter the park. Within 15 minutes a perma-smile crept onto my face and I found myself talking to the strangers around me, goofing around with the security guards, and anxiously awaiting our entrance. Once inside I frolicked about the fields, catching the wind in my hair, and hysterically laughing at the sights around me (three stages, the Hudson River, the Statue of Liberty, and an assortment of trippy art structures strewn throughout the grounds).

A trip to the porta-potty enthralled me and when a young woman from Nylon magazine asked if she could take my picture. I just smiled at her and in the most child-like tone and loudly announced “SURE!” into the air. Everything was perfect. I felt like a modern day hippie running about, yelling, pointing, and skipping, linked arm in arm with my equally ecstatic friend.

We finally reached the Blue Comet stage to watch Animal Collective play a glorious, animated set, that is when things began to change. The sky above me was no longer a light blue. The clouds scattered around its great expanse were not white and fluffy. Everything was suddenly glossed over. Hues of purples and reds spread throughout the elevated world on top of me. The amorphous cumuli began to transform into medusa-like faces with snakes for hair. Avey Tare’s yelps and screams pierced my eardrums, jolting my body, and completely shocking my senses. I watched as the people around me morphed into our ancestors, half human, half primate, dancing as if they were a part of some tribe in Africa. This, along with the drug-induced mentality that was quickly taking over exhilarated every part of my being. At the time I couldn’t think of anything else I would rather be doing.

But, of course, all good things must come to an end. And as Animal Collective left the stage, so did the wonderful world I had stepped into. The thrill of the ’shrooms rapidly turned into confusion and dissatisfaction. I no longer knew what I wanted or needed – all of my senses became befuddled as I lost all touch with my body. Simple bodily functions like peeing and drinking turned into the most difficult and perplexing ordeals. I was so far gone into my trip that I could not even speak. I could not utter a logical sentence because nothing made sense anymore. And on top of all of this, I was stressed. Stressed because I could not, for the life of me, interact normally around people and could therefore not venture into the crowds to watch The Roots or Kings of Leon. Instead, I sat as far as I could from the stages, attempting to enjoy the bands, as my friend tried to bring me back to some sort of reality. But he was no help…I was gone. I knew that the trip would eventually cease, but I did not know when that would occur, and by 7 o’ clock I just wanted to leave. Fortunately, my friend was not having the same trip as me. He was perfectly content with the environment so we stayed. And I am so grateful for it.

The events that took place between Animal Collective and Radiohead are beyond me; my brain couldn’t relay them if my life depended on it. Honestly, all I remember is attempting to maneuver my way around 30,000 people and failing terribly. As I stood in the crowd, waiting for Radiohead to take the stage for the second night in a row, I could only think of how stupid I had been to take ’shrooms on a day where I could have easily had an amazing time listening to music on nothing at all. I could only think of all the pictures I hadn’t taken and all the people I hadn’t met. At this point, I wanted Radiohead to hurry out because I wanted to go home, become sober, and sleep. But something very curious happened when Thom Yorke & Co. finally took the stage. The fog that had plagued my brain for almost the entire afternoon began to clear. The sounds of “Reckoner,” with its light cymbal strokes and soft guitar picking, became distinct and I could feel my old self coming back from the dead. The band that had completely shaken me the night before was slowly putting me back together. Like jigsaws from a puzzle, my senses fell back into their corresponding spots. Sobriety is a beautiful thing, ladies and gentleman. And Radiohead’s music felt like an IV injection of electrolytes to my very inebriated veins.

A trip only lasts so long – every drug has a lifespan. But the fact that my disappointing trip completely faded as the sounds of “The National Anthem” filled the space between lower Manhattan and northern Jersey is more than coincidence.

Perhaps it was Johnny’s guitar, or Thom’s short-circuit spasms, or maybe even the massive chandelier of light crystals that hung from the stage and lit the sky with colors that synchronized perfectly with the mood of the songs being played…the explanation remains unknown. What I do know, however, is that the two shows I was lucky enough to experience last weekend were marvelous. Everything from the setlist to the mesmerizing light show proved to be perfect. Even the crowd was exceptionally receptive and exciting, aroused at the right moments by gritty rockers like “Paranoid Android” and completely silenced by the other more melancholy songs like “No Surprises” and “Fake Plastic Trees.”

So I am glad to write that the very first All Points West was a success (at least by my standards). I am curious to see who will headline next year because it is going to be more than a little difficult to top last weekend.

Pack ‘em in!

A view from the park.

All the pretty horses.

Funky sculpture.

Another Funky sculpture.

And another.

Girl Talk gets down.

Girl Talk tweaks the knobs.

CSS logo. Get ready for music as my hot sex.

Vancouver supergroup, New Pornographers, struts their stuff.

Bathed in kryptonite.

Bathed in purple haze.

A blur of genius.

Proof of the magic.

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