This Must Be The Place

by jaclyn.silvestri on jun 15, 2011

As a first time Lollapalooza attendee in 2005, it was easy for me to see that history was being made and I was in the center of it. I was a native New Yorker spending my first college summer living in the squalor of my friend’s suburban Chicago abode. I just happened to be in the right place at the right time when the craigslist advertisement went out asking for volunteers for Chicago’s first Lollapalooza in Grant Park, and with nothing more than an MO to stay cool and look cool, I signed on for more awesomeness than I could have ever anticipated. I remember being at the show at incredibly early hours to help set up. I had never been to Grant Park before, and I needed a moment to awe at the skyline that surrounded me. City lights and big buildings aren’t new to me coming from New York, but nowhere in New York City have I ever felt as immersed and enveloped by a skyline, or rather, a city as I did in Grant Park. On one side there was a huge body of water. On the other side, antiquated buildings that seemed to glow as the sunset. In front of me I could make out bits of The Field Museum and a massive aquarium sitting upon a small but sturdy Chicagoan island unto itself, while behind me there were glimmers of a ceaselessly circling Ferris wheel. Chicago surrounded me, and embraced me, along with thousands of other concertgoers there for the experience of a lifetime. I had attended the event alone, though I certainly never felt alone. I remember lollygagging over to the tent I would be asked to stand at for the day for StopGlobalWarming.Org, drinking complimentary SmartWater (a new thing at the time) and talking to people about the day’s 103 degree heat index. The white wife-beater I had been expected to wear was soaked with sweat by noon, though my dampened bosom was more a conversation piece because of the command it posed for anyone who dared to stare for long enough: “Ask me why I’m marching.” I wasn’t marching in place or anything, the “march” was taking place in the virtual arena of the internet, and the inadvertent wet t-shirt contest I had entered had me literally stopping traffic and recruiting support while distant guitar strums and bass beats wafted in the background. Every once in a while, I had to shake off the touristy voyeurism that crept over me as I volunteered. Early in the morning The Killers were doing a warm-up set on a stage that must have been more than a quarter of a mile away from me, but was loud enough to fill the empty lawn and make its way to me at the tend, anxiously anticipating strangers to talk to about how “darn hot” the day planned to be. I felt like I was getting a private concert, and I was staring into the distance and bobbing my head, rubbing in extra sun block. I snapped out of it when I was asked to circle around back to find some walkie-talkies for the rest of the volunteers. I slowly made my way down a dirt path that acted as a perimeter of the venue and found myself among a series of trailers. Was that Primus’s giant inflatable duck they were pumping with air? Was that Perry Farrell that hastily past me reviewing a “power introduction” he would do later that day? Was I in the right place? Eventually a security guard noticed a stray wide-eyed groupie (i.e. Me) not keeping her cool enough to continue along the path. My own excitement gave me away – I was much too star-struck to be working back here, so what was I doing? I told him I had been sent to get walkie-talkies and he asked to see my “pass.” In his face, all I could read was “a likely story.” I didn’t have a pass, just my plebian plastic wristbands and a worried voice. I was ushered back to home-base: the tent for StopGlobalWarming. Fortunately, the person in charge of the booth made it clear to the security guard that I wasn’t just sneaking around/loitering in a prohibited area on my own volition, I had been sent there to do his bidding and pick up the required walkie-talkies. The concert hadn’t even started yet and I was already having once-in-a-lifetime moments! It wasn’t every day that security guards ushered me places. It also wasn’t every day that I felt like I was in trouble. How exciting! I was like a renegade concertgoer, being sent on missions under the guise of helping the earth, but really just seeing cool bands play! The security guard said he would have someone deliver the walkie-talkies to us, and within 20 minutes and no more musician-sightings, they appeared. But as luck would have it, security guards work in shifts, and walkie-talkie batteries need to be replaced. I was soon along the same dirt road behind beer-stands and merchandise tents, keeping my eyes peeled for mischievous opportunities. 80% of getting anywhere in life is looking like you belong there, right? When people asked me where I was going, I showed them the borrowed pass of the man running the non-profit tent. I kept a straight face and answered in way that said “no one looking to break rules here.” I made it all the way to the stages when CAKE began their set. There were risers on stage with plenty of open seating left available, and moving through as if I was some sort of friend or family or Very Important Person Who’s Importance Was Unbeknownst to Everyone (including me) I moved up to a riser on stage and watched them. The band playing on the stage next to them was playing really loud, and CAKE hoped that in playing softer, the other band would also turn down their sound system. It was so fascinating to see a rock band wait for the good will of others to follow their own mensche-setting lead. Even as I sat in a zone clearly marked off for more important people than myself, I felt like I was part of a community. This wasn’t like the Woodstock of the 90s where riots broke out and the heat riled up the rage in the masses. Lollapalooza was an event for people to come and be a part of something great. It set a gold standard in quality and community that has continued to keep it running. Even though Lollapalooza had major bands like Weezer, the Pixies, and The Killers playing, there was a respect for underground musicians or up-and-comers I hadn’t yet seen at major music event on the east coast. The community that I keep mentioning didn’t just include audience members from all walks of life or the musicians banking on each other’s consciousness of sound and space. This was a community where the differences in musicality, personality, and mission were accepted. Lollapalooza 2005 was an event that made attendees and performers Chicagoans for three days. This was my first festival experience, and it certainly wasn’t my last. Each year since then I’ve found myself existing as a citizen of Lollapalooza and Chicago for three days a year. Lollapalooza is my annual reminder that we are all marching, perhaps for something different, and maybe in a virtual way, but certainly not alone.

Like 3 likes