By Beauty Damned

AmsterJam-min

On Saturday Rob took me to "Amsterjam," a concert at Randall's Island, the same place where we saw Iggy Pop at Little Stevie's Underground Garage Fest last year. It was another great show. Perfect day. We got up early and managed to get a parking spot by 11:30 a.m. Rob was all worried it was going to be muddy because it had rained the night before and the sky was overcast. He looked at me like I was crazy for wearing pretty leather sandals in a potential mudpit. I assured him I wasn't worried about it and he shouldn't be either. We walked inside the arena and were greeted by, first, a great open field with one fabulously big stage and another much smaller stage on the far end from that gigantic one. There were booths with all kinds of different food, a few merchandising booths and, since it was sponsored by Heineken, plenty of beer. (Unfortunately, there were so many people there by early afternoon that the lines were looking less and less like a reasonable option.) Robert and I got there early enough that we got a couple beers and some tasty snacks before the crowds closed in. I had an excellent burrito from Moe's and I think Rob had an anonymous burger. Or as my younger sister would say, "totally miscellaneous." Haha. That just made me laugh. It also turns out that Rob is a wiley fellow (as if I didn't know) and fenagled a way for us to procure beers in a much quicker fashion. No we did not steal them. But if I say anything more about his methods he might have to bury me with the fishes.

So do you want to know who was at Amsterjam? Stop. You know you do. Most importantly, it was MC'd by BOOTSY COLLINS. Yes. I know. It's fucking incredible. The man is a legend AND the coolest son of a bitch ever to say "baba." First act was Fat Joe. Right? Pretty exciting? We all did the rockaway. I've been known to lean back occasionally and I did that day. Okay, I'm being stupid. But it was fun. Fat Joe busted out the reggaeton and some spanish rapping accomplices. It was rad. Next up I think was Garbage. I like Garbage. I like Shirley Manson. But I like her even better when she's on stage with Peaches. I like Peaches quite a lot. I think she is a crazy motherfucker and she makes the world a much more colorful place. She's kind of like a white Li'l Kim. But way more punk rock. Segue into dirty lyrics.

[Exhibit:] "Aa Xxx"

I like the innocent type
deer in the headlight
rockin me all night
flexin his might
doin it right
keepin me tight
takin a bite out of the peach tonight

consider my suspicion
lets see if my intuition
has any volition
cuz i'm on a mission
for the omission, the competition
and the definition of my position
it's bitchin it's bitchin it's bitchin it's bitchin

only double a
thinkin triple x

only double a

…

yeah...theres more

i'm hexed i'm vexed
i'm in the double text
some people say that i put my self perspective
in the cervix, next

only double a
thinkin triple x

only double...

licky licky sucky
nobody here can tell me they dont wanna fucky fucky

only double a
but i'm thinkin triple x
i'm only double a
but i'm thinkin triple x
i'm only double a
but i'm...
triple x double a
triple x double a
triple x double a
triple x double...

yeah, whos gonna mothafuckin stop me?
hey mothafuckas step up
whos gonna mothafuckin step up?

So needless to say, that was a good time. The woman talks dirtier than some of the spam I get. Next up was Wyclef Jean. He brought out P. Diddy for a brief appearance. I guess I'm supposed to drop the P, but it just doesn't seem right. If he says it gets in the way of him and his fans, I suppose that's just a relief to me. Because I don't feel like it gets in the way. Guess I can't be a fan. Wyclef was pretty awesome, but you might detect an otherwise imperceptible yawn in there if you put your ear to the screen. Just a tiny one. He played a couple of Fugees tunes, which was exciting, but sort of just made me miss Lauryn Hill. He said a few good things for peace too and belted out No Woman No Cry as beautifully as ever. Anyway, who was up next? Gosh. I don't even remember. What the hell am I talking about? I remember! It was 311. Can I just say one thing really quickly? I never knew that the lead singer was....SO GODDAMN SEXY. Hot damn. That's all I'm gonna say. Hot damn. I've been listening to them since I was seventeen, but somehow I never recognized this glaring fact... They were full of raw energy and welcome familiarity. And hotness. Okay. I'll stop. *groan*

Rob (yes I still remember his name after that shameless display) and I laid down a sheet and lounged on the grass, enjoying the music and the blessed overcast weather. If it had been really sunny I think we would have wilted like weed[head]s. It was nearly ninety degrees and humid as all getout, but entirely bearable compared to what it could have been if the clouds had not been there to shield us. Finally, after much anticipation, Snoop D-O Double-G came onto the stage! The crowd went wild!!! Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay Snoop! Who doesn't love Snoop? No really, who, because I'll put my foot in their arse.

He is an awesome performer. So much fun to watch. The sound was perfect. He had a diamond encrusted microphone. Seriously, that thing was so fucking tight. He was so fucking tight. There is no other way to describe it. Plus I know you already know. Because how could you not? He is so good at getting the crowd hyped. And we were definitely hyped. But we were also heading toward exhaustion. We'd been standing or sitting on the ground or walking or dancing all day and our legs and backs were getting tired.

We laughed that we are old now and we should leave and take the funny Mexican-couple-who-looked-crazily-out-of-place with us. Robert brought them to my attention when we were sharing a sausage under the shade of an awning(sounds freudian, I know, but it wasn't) He said "pssst. Don't those people look like they were on their way from church and they got lost and ended up here?" They certainly did. The woman stood out most because she was wearing beautiful off-white, satin "churchy" sandals. (Although I'm not sure the rolled up jean shorts were church appropriate...) But she looked happy standing there in them so I guess that's all that matters. We had a laugh about how out of place they looked, but it was all in good natured fun. We saw a few people who looked like odd ducks, but I guess that's how it always is at concerts where there's so many different acts. And hey, we were the odd ducks at Ozzfest, so there. But I'm not gonna lie and say I minded.

We wasted time after Snoop left the stage until on came THE Red Hot Chili Peppers. Robert and I once met Anthony Kiedis briefly at a party and I've spotted other band members before at the old "Creed of the Seed" shows in California, but I had never seen them perform live. It was weird. I felt like I knew them. (Unfortunately we don't or else would have been sittin pretty backstage.) I guess it felt that way because I've only been listening to them since I was 13 years old. They were everything you would expect. Anthony Kiedis doesn't have the same ability to woo the audience with chatter and hollering the way that, say, Snoop Dogg or Iggy Pop do (their names both have double g's - coincidence???), but he has all the charisma of a seasoned rockstar. Flea was the one who really talked to the crowd and connected. Love Flea. Incredible bass player. Fascinating person. It was a day filled with fascinating people. At the end of the Chili Peppers' set, Snoop came back on stage, Bootsy Collins picked up his bass, and they mashed it up 'til we could literally stand on our feet no longer. It was beautiful. And over. And so we trudged back to our car with heavy lids and satisfied smiles. And guess what? Our shoes weren't even muddy. See, you knew I was retarded, and you read it anyway. It's on you.

We drove back to Brooklyn and slept like babies. And so it becomes like a sweet dream.

Posted by Maria at August 22, 2005 03:06 PM | TrackBack