A storied event

Illustration by Jordan Domont

John Dugan, TOC Clubs editor
I was walking briskly to get in position for Daft Punk as the sun was setting. Out of nowhere, a human body came flying through the air. It was some dude chasing after a Frisbee, and he hit me right in the face—with his forehead. Luckily, I didn’t lose any teeth. I held a bandana full of ice against my face during Daft Punk’s entire set. The worst part was making my debut on the CBS2 Morning News the next morning, talking about Lolla on TV with a big fat lip.

Sarah C., TOC reader
For Lolla 2005, I got a photo pass and was in the press area for the Billy Idol press conference. After he spoke, I went up to get my photo taken with him. He put his arm around me, grabbed my ass—almost lifting me off the ground—and said, “I bet you’ve never had your arse grabbed by a 50-year-old man before.”

Garin Pirnia, TOC contributor
I desperately wanted to go to Lolla last year but lacked the cash. Walking by the festival entrance, I noticed pieces of wristbands strewn on the sidewalk; folks were tearing the uncomfortable, protruding end-piece from their bands and dropping them. I picked up all the pieces, bought superglue and crafted an almost-convincing wristband from scraps. Risking incarceration, I flashed my Frankenband at the security checkpoint and rocked out for the next two days.

Martha Williams, TOC associate photo editor
I had a photo pass for last year’s Lolla and was able to get backstage for the MIA set. Apparently, Amy Winehouse is an MIA fan, too. I caught sight of her walking up the stairs to the side-stage balcony, just in time to look straight up her black miniskirt at her skinny, pimply ass. After nearly choking on my drink, I realized it was my best celebrity sighting all weekend. I spent the rest of the fest in shorts.

Laura Baginski, TOC Features editor
The heat, beer and cocktail of B.O. mixed with shit at Lolla can make people do crazy things, but nothing could have prepared me for my role as human porta-potty during the Kanye West show in 2006. The preppy young guys close behind us appeared to be both on loan from the Beta house and drunk as balls, but they seemed fairly harmless. That is, until I heard what I thought was a steady stream of beer splashing on the ground, then felt it dripping down my bare leg. As I turned around to yell at these chooches, I noticed that one of them, so drunk he was swaying back and forth with his eyes closed, had dropped trou and was pissing on the ground/me. My stomach threatening to revolt, I pushed my way to the first-aid station, where a nurse lamented the manners of “men these days” and wiped me down with antibacterial soap.

Duke Shin, TOC reader
The highlight of Brian Jonestown Massacre’s set was lead singer Anton Newcombe’s mercurial temper, which flared up in the heat as his tender, acoustic moments were drowned out by the sound from Dashboard Confessional’s stage. At one point, Anton stopped playing and started asking if they could turn it down across the field, then telling Dashboard to “go fuck themselves.” Milking the drama, he told the audience jokes, said something about using the band’s photo as birth control, and then apologized, saying he would start playing again “as soon as Jon Bon Jovi shuts the fuck up.”

Brent DiCrescenzo, TOC Music editor
I was in high school in Atlanta during the first Lollapalooza in 1991, and was a big fan of Ice-T and the “Glamour Boys” of Living Colour. Turned out both acts were playing together at some goofily named festival out by the airport, but I failed to get a ticket in time. Back then, Atlanta had yet to be paved over with sprawl, and raw woods backed up to just about every suburban clearing. A buddy and I went black ops, crept up to the grounds and hopped the fence. We climbed another wall and ended up in the back of the field. The next year, Eddie Vedder made his appearance the same way as Pearl Jam kicked off its set. Copycat.

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