He buzzes like a fridge / he's like a de-tuned radio

Sometimes I wish I weren’t such a crusty old bastard. It is possible to get tired of your own curmudgeonly rantings, you know. But I yam what I yam, and that is why I must confess that this sounds to me like a total balls-to-the-wall sheep-dipped shoot-em-up NIGHTMARE.

Hippies. People encroaching on your space. Can’t hear or see the bands. Costs $225 to NOT have a seat, and ALSO not hear or see the band. Port-A-Potties. Heat, or – much more likely in San Fogcisco – goolie-freezing damp cold with a side order of paint-scouring wind. Festivalgoers for whom the actual music is an afterthought. “Art,” "crafts," henna tattoo booths and all that sideshow bullshit, arrrrgh.

I have seen Radiohead three times,* and it has fucking ROCKED every single time. They are a band worth doing some felony-level crimes to see live, seriously, sincerely. But having had that experience, I’m not going to dilute it by signing on for this suckfest. I’m too damn old for the all-day outdoor music/festival thing anymore, man.

You kids go and have fun. Grandma’s going to be over here with her bourbon and her Matlock marathon, knitting some tea cozies. Here’s a nickel to buy yourself some candy corn. And if you see anybody fornicating it or smoking the pot, you stay clear of the likes of them, you hear?

*Plus Thom Yorke once (Bridge School Benefit) and the Easy-Dub All-Stars performing OK Computer in its entirety at the Catalyst in Santa Cruz