Sometimes if you go to a music festival (namely the Catalpa Music Festival) you slip in piss in a porta potty. All part of normal life.
This weekend I attended the Catalpa NYC Music Festival on Randall's Island. Please enjoy my log of the experience.
I'm sorry to have missed the early acts but I was busy consuming champagne and bacon at my place.
My friends and I arrive and head over to the Jeep Stage where the Sheedogs are playing. Wham jam, thank you ma'am!. I'm not feeling especially into the guitar masturbation so we mosey down to the Catalpa Stage with is adorned with blue leopard banners ordering the audience to "DANCE BITCH!"
Now Hercules and the Love Affair I can totally get into but this set was lackluster. They were meant to be seen at 2AM with MDMA coursing through your veins rather than outside on a rainy day before the sun has set. Due to the weather the audience was a bit scarce which totally threw them off. They still won the sex contest with their blonde female singer tantalizing the crowd with her black stocking-wrapped crotch and a hype man in a net top who put everyone's dance moves to shame.
Where the fuck is the Arcadia Stage? The schedule lists an entire line-up of DJs playing in a tent that does not exist.
Who dropped out of the festival and forced two sets of Umphrey's McGee upon us?
And now for TV on the Radio. The sound was a bit funky and I wasn't terribly impressed but man, black rock 'n' rollers do it right. More of you please.
I skip the second set of Umphrey's and count bros in jerseys and girlies with booties hanging out of jean shorts.
The Black Keys can feel a bit repetitive but overall they always manage to rock, especially when Dan and Patrick tell the supporting musicians to fuck off and play by themselves.
Look at me being a responsible reporter and arriving at the festival early. Everyone at Big Pink is waiting to hear "Dominos" which turns out to be the least engaging song live. Rather than be intimidated by the early set time these guys own the stage like they'e headlining Glastonbury. They earn bonus points for the female drummer.
No I don't want to ride on the Jeep obstacle course.
It begins to rain again. While youngins flop around at Cold War Kids, I sit on the side of the hill wrapped in a trash-bag poncho.
Matisyahu is fascinatingly bizarre. His physical transformation has left him unrecognizable. Last I saw him he was a reserved Orthodox Jew where now he resembles a Cris Lilley character, crowd surfing sans beard in a baseball hat. While his appearance took a 180, his music is rather unchanged; lyrically different and overall enjoyable. He chastised the audience for requesting "King Without A Crown" and "One Day" because "obviously I'm going to play the only two songs everyone knows." I clap hard because I suspect he needs to hear it.
Are Matt and Kim suffering from a horrible case of tourettes coupled with ADHD? The only words out of Kim's mouth that weren't "fuck" or "shit" were when she was ordering the crowd to do Kegel exercises and they had to restart "Daylight," which you'd think they had nailed down by now.
Fuck this Araabmuzik noise. I take a much needed respite at the High Times reggae tent where it's mellow and safe. Too bad there are only three other people here.
Girl Talk pressed play and everyone danced.
The A$AP Mob bounced around having the time of their lives while A$AP Rocky and his skinny jeans made everyone wet.
A heavy amount of the entertainment of Snoop's set relied upon prerecorded skits played on a projection screen, some of which included Snoop Dogg firing an assault weapon into the crowd. But hey, a furry danced onstage with an eight-foot long stuffed penis so that was cool.
I slip and fall on someone's piss in a porta potty.
Photos by @timthegiraffe