Spring is in the Air

The aformentioned statement is the declaration from my trainer Bill/Warren Beatty. He has been a little off mentally the past few weeks, and when I walked into the gym this morning, I had to hit the ground running. He is BACK. The first thing he says to me? "I love women." and he proceeds to talk about how we are works of art and we are phenomenal. It sure helped me get through my hip adductors, I'll tell you what.

So Spring is definitely in the air. Bill was what seals the deal. I suspected this was the case, with my addiction to pastels and cuddling and need for sunshine on my shoulders.

This weekend was all about music. Coachella was the shit, my darlings. It's going to take a killer lineup to get me out there again and ruin these memories.

After a delectable Moons over My Hammy sandwich, we were denied entrance to a Filter party. I think it's because I was wearing my Birkenstocks and had my Devious Honey hoodie on, but everyone else contends that it was because we were TOO COOL. Once we heard the sounds of Jody Watley wafting over the fence, we were convinced. The rest of Friday night was spent cuddling with a very insistent white boxer named Mister Righteous. He didn't care that I was allergic to his luxurious white hair, he wanted a piece and he got it. Of course it was a piece of my leg to rest his little head on, but hey.

Saturday, we began the afternoon with a killer set from the Raveonettes. Snow Patrol followed, and as I was watching them bounce around stage doing their best rock star impersonations, I remembered being acutely unimpressed. I love that damn album, but they were lametown. The Kills really picked up the pace though, and so did Chloe Sevigny and her stupid black stiletto boots. I almost complimented her on her performance in Melinda and Melinda, then I thought, "Naw. She's too high to remember she was in it."

Then, WILCO. This performance meant a lot to me, since Jeff Tweedy had to cancel their set last year because of rehab. I've seen them three times since then, and that band keeps getting tighter every time I see them. They are truly awe inspiring and make me glad I can hear.

Weezer followed up with a slightly pedestrian set, comprised of hits and some strange new songs. It was fun, but the best part of the show was the weird old dude behind me who kept screaming "YES!" at every guitar solo. When Rivers set the guitar to feedback, he followed up "YES!" with a hearty "FEEDBACK!" which really cleared things up for those of us who had no idea what that strange noise was.

Bloc Party and Secret Machines closed out the night loudly, and we hightailed it outta there before the oh-so-snoresville Coldplay came onto the stage. Mister Righteous was banished to the backyard and we actually got some sleep.

I am really having to use my words here to describe how fucking amazing Sunday was. Now, keep in mind that the temperature in Indio is about 15 degrees cooler than normal. There is no sunburn on my shoulders. I have my floppy hat out, a wicked strapless sundress, and I am not fucking around anymore. I am ready to hear some music.

Fiery Furnaces came out with their usual gusto and non-stop barrage of sound. Tegan and Sara made me wish I had seen the Futureheads instead, although they are very charming for Canadians. And then...the award for best performance from a band I had never seen live before followed them: ARCADE FIRE. Everyone and their mom was there for the set, and we all shared our amazement and wonder at this disarming, take-no-prisoners ensemble. They were climbing on the scaffolding and throwing instruments around stage, but that was the least exciting part. The music floated from the heavens into this world and we were ecstatic. Go get their album, Funeral. NOW.

New Order did a great Joy Divison cover of "Love Will Tear us Apart Again" and rocked Blue Monday, and then our socks were blown off by Nine Inch Nails. "Closer" made me want to abandon all socially acceptable behaviors, and the closing tune "Head Like A Hole" made me glad I was alive to see this rock legend perform. In all his muscular glory...seriously, Trent Reznor has spent the last five years doing his push-ups. And retaining his coolness.

The Faint and Prodigy wrapped up the night pleasantly. And as we trduged back to the car, my heart was happy. There was great company, some burritos in the VIP tent, and some of the greatest tuneage known to man. Bless that fest.

I am ready to meet Spring with new gusto.

sprung. g