ACL Fest: September is the New August

My friend Travis was kind to buy a ticket for me to attend this year’s Austin City Limits Music Festival. Thanks, T!
I’ve only attended last year’s and this year’s festival, the third and fourth, respectively. The 2005 festival was better planned, more British, and as fun musically as last year, though the fun mostly came from stumbling on it rather than anticipating it. The names were generally more recognizable at last year’s show, including such acts as Elvis Costello, Big Head Todd and the Monsters, and Roots (whom I did not know at the time, but others certainly did), amidst 150 other bands. This year provided Thievery Corporation, Robert Randolph and the Family Band, and Franz Ferdinand, again among about 150 bands. The headliners were Black Crowes, Lyle Lovett and his Large Band, Oasis, and Coldplay.
The best shows for my money were Robert Randolph and the Family Band, Buddy Guy, Thievery Corporation (whom I didn’t like when my friend Punar first indroduced them, but am now converted), The Bravery (they were fun because the guitarist climbed the side of the stage and crowd surfed while playing), and The Decemberists.

I like the festival for the festival. Rarely is there an arrest made, though the joke is that it is because the officers are also enjoying themselves. I was able to bring in two Gatorades, though I heard they were being confiscated like heroin by some of the staff. This is my only beef; safety should win out over profit. People will most certainly need more than their two allotted factory-sealed beverages, so let them bring their beverage of choice. Gatorade says we need electrolytes! I never waited for a porta-potty, a cold water, lacked second hand pot or friendlies who offered a toke (of which I did not partake, you Mennonites), or drifted in and out of consciousness.
The big story, however, was the heat. The average high for September 25 is 88°. The record high, prior to yesterday, was 98°. The official high yesterday at ACL Fest was 108°. I repeat; 108°. Ouch. At least we avoided hurricane Rita. This year’s hurricanes hate music, apparently. If they can’t blow us away, or flood us out, at least they can make it terribly uncomfortable. Nuts, I just anthropomorphized hurricanes.
Anyway, all of the bands mentioned the heat, but one in particular made the audacious claim that New York City heat is worse in a way. If you know anything, you know not to mess with a Texan’s pride in their ability to out-heat you. A hush fell briefly until he explained, “the heat in NYC is worse in a way because everything smells like an air conditioner filled with piss.” Heh, ok, I’ll give you that.
I’m recovering from the layer of protective dust now lining my lungs.
It was all worth it, and I’d do it again in a second!