Day 1:  Gogol Bordello Fans Smoke Shitty Weed.

As a one-year Lollapalooza-media-coverage-providing veteran, I thought I knew exactly what I was I getting myself into this year. I believe that life laughs at these moments of overconfidence, and finds it necessary to teach us just how little we actually ever know about anything. Over-anticipation and anxiety placed me on an impossible mission to see all the bands that I wanted to last year, and I nearly killed myself trying to do it. I decided to take it easy this year and not run all over Grant Park to see every band, and quite honestly, as impressive as this year’s lineup was, I still preferred the previous offering.

Entering the park after one of the most excruciating travel experiences of my lifetime, I realize that I was slightly hung over. I tend to drink Bloody Marys when I’m anywhere near a plane and since I spent around ten hours in the airport the previous day, you can draw your own conclusions as to exactly what happened. I also notice an alarmingly greater amount of people at this year’s festival. I chalk it up to the fact that Radiohead is playing what could be its last-ever date in Chicago, and then I hear that this day’s show has been sold out for weeks. I feel bad leaving my friends to the perils of the one of the longest lines I’ve ever seen for the comforts of the media tent, where I discover that they have free beer this year. So long hangover.

As I walk into the park, I can hear Rogue Wave finishing off their uber-catchy indie-pop anthem “Lake Michigan” (super appropriate). I then actually get really excited when I remember that they will be playing another set on the Kidzapalooza stage around 3:30. I make a mental note to catch that. I begin texting my separated friends to let them know that Yeasayer is going off on the main stage at the south end of the park; it’s well worth the stifling heat that the uncovered half of the park is conjuring. I catch about all of their modern/psychedelic indie-dance set, and leave thoroughly impressed. I decide to give their album another whirl immediately when I get home.

After another free beer and a Stephen Malkmus sighting in media tent, I decide to head over to the Kidz stage for Rogue Wave. I must say, the Kidz stage is a lot of fun. There is the best shade and view of Lake Michigan from any location in Grant Park. The only negative is that you can’t smoke; well, allow me to re-phrase that - you can smoke, you just feel like an asshole whilst doing so, and outside of Rogue Wave the only bands playing there are for children. Nevertheless, it makes a very serene setting for watching Rogue Wave as I meet up with the rest of my gang.

Afterwards, the Black Keys are playing opposite Gogol Bordello. I decide to go with the Gypsy Punkers since I saw the Black Keys last year. This may have been the best decision that I’ve ever made. Three of us meander back over to the south end of the park and get a pretty good spot amongst the pseudo gypsy/hippie concertgoers. It’s exactly what it sounds like. Almost instantly the kids in front of us whip out a wooden pipe and begin smoking away. That’s right, a WOODEN pipe. The smell is just awful, and it now being the hottest part of the day, I’m concerned for my general well-being. All is made right as Gogol takes the stage with an explosion of energy and their trademarked eastern European-influenced punk stylings. For the duration of the entire one-hour set, the kids in front of us keep hitting that wooden pipe and with each puff I wish that I was smoking two cigarettes through my nostrils instead. As the gypsy dancers begin to flail wildly across the stage and suddenly stop, signaling the beginning of my favorite song (“Start Wearing Purple”) a giant cloud covers the now blistering sun. The large crowd erupts and the kids in front of me put down the pipe for a second. All is right with the world for the next three and half minutes or so. Song ends, sun comes back, shitty weed smoke re-kindles and I begin to make my way back to the media tent.

I finish my afternoon and evening off with sets from Grizzly Bear, Mates of State, Bloc Party, and Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks. Bloc Party was fucking terrible, by the way. I love their first album, but they had no energy on stage whatsoever. For a band that plays as fast as they do, you’d expect a little perceived excitement or stage presence. This was unfortunately not the case. Radiohead finishes the night, and having seen them play an amazing show in Tampa not too long ago, I decide not to deal with the overbearing and rather intimidating crowd. I retreat into the hills with a friend and a couple beers. I see some kid who apparently overdosed on something and pissed his pants. He is swimming on the ground; it is some weird shit man. Fireworks light up the night shy about half way through Radiohead's set. I make my way home utterly satisfied with my first day back in the windy city.