I woke up Thursday morning in a cheap motel off interstate 81, about four hours from Manchester, Tennessee. I figured I would make it to my first Bonnaroo between 2 and 3 pm.
POP! I heard what I hoped was a flat tire. I pulled off the highway and into a gas station with smoke billowing from the hood of my car. Upon lifting the hood of my car, I could see a massive oil leak. A kind man pulled up behind me to see if I was okay. I was stranded in the middle of nowhere, I’d been better. This man, Frank Bologna (his God-given name) gave me a ride to a local mechanic. From there I was able to get my car towed back and checked out. Before leaving, Frank gave me his information and told me his wife had given him the okay if I needed a place to sleep that night.
Gary, my mechanic, informed me that it wasn’t just an oil leak, it was a huge hole in my engine block. That was the “pop” I heard. It was going to cost more than my car was worth to replace and take at least a week. But that was irrelevant, I had to get to Manchester. Determined to get there, I made some frantic calls and hopeless Tweets in the off chance that someone would be able to give me a lift. But I had more stuff than usual, I mean, it wasn’t just my camping equipment, it was all the other car stuff, too.
After calling about five car rental places, I was finally able to make a reservation. I just had to get there. Frank. I called Frank, and thankfully retirees have time to spare taking strange girls to Knoxville where I was able to pick up a tiny Chevy to get on my way.
This all took about six hours, and I finally arrived to Bonnaroo around 8 pm, set up camp and hurried down to catch the end of The Drums’ energetic, synth-pop set. It was a relief to finally be dancing, and with thousands of others, thousands of already dirty, sweaty others.
From there I found my way to Twin Shadow. I had given him a listen or two, but never understood the buzz. I don’t think George Lewis does either. “My friends have been trying to get me to come to Bonnaroo for years,” he said, however, he and his friends probably weren’t expecting him to be on the lineup for his first Bonnaroo. His music is Summer – easy, breezy, pop music influenced heavily by New Wave. Vocally, and perhaps even lyrically he’s comparable to Morrissey. Dancing ensued and I easily moved up, with the help of some Beautiful Australians, a group of several Australian boys making their way through the American South, Bonnaroo being their first stop.
The BAs left and I, not particularly interested in one act over another for the remainder of the evening, decided to stay for Childish Gambino. Childish Gambino is the side project of Donald Glover of NBC’s Community fame. It’s kind of disgusting how talented he is. Glover raps with the same intensity you’d expect from Eminem or Kanye West, but isn’t angry, or even serious about any of it. Sure, half of it is about “getting pussy” but the other half is about being well, childish. A little boy’s middle class dreams seemed to hang in the air as the crowd rapped along to each song about pussy, school, Subarus, Batman, crushes and anything else a sixteen year old geek thought about.
