I finally got around to watching this, and I can safely say that I've never seen a documentary come across more like a horror film. I can't ever remember covering my eyes at the sight of an *interview*. Later, I went back and re-read some criticism after the film's release in January last year, and I was a bit surprised to see the horror film comparisons come up again and again. After hearing that they were forty five days out and hadn't found anyone to physically stage the concerts, I could do nothing but bury my head in my hands. By the time they were a couple of weeks out and were still finalizing the location, I was close to a full-on Colonel Kurtz stunned breakdown.
It was not a "mere" case of gross incompetence, of energetic twenty-somethings that got in over their heads. They thought it would all come together at the last minute, only to discover that organizing a festival isn't like cramming for a final exam the night before. But they also had the audacity to think that their customers wouldn't know the the difference between what they'd promised and the haphazard shit show they attempted to present. The artists hadn't arrived (or been paid), none of the local workers had received a dime, the housing wasn't ready, the food was an atrocity, their guest were effectively stranded, and they somehow, inexplicably allowed the festival to go on.
Somehow, Fyre managed to retain many well-intentioned, hard working people right up until the end. In the face of all evidence that the festival was careening towards disaster, collective hysteria won out.
Ja Rule comes off worse than anyone. Far from the detached celeb who tweeted "IT WASN'T MY FAULT" when his feet were put to the fire (no pun intended), he was an enabler from the beginning and was actively involved in the cover-up/spin doctoring efforts in the aftermath. His comments during the post-festival conference call ("I wouldn't call it fraud, I would call it ... false advertising") shows that he was as scummy as any of the other principals.
But at the same time, you can't help but laugh at these entitled assholes getting what they deserved at the end. Even while watching it all unfold in 2017, I happily took part in the chorus of ridicule just like many other people.
Thursday, April 16, 2020
Sunday, April 12, 2020
"Coachella: 20 Years in the Desert", dir. Chris Perkel
The release of this Youtube Original documentary coincided with the scheduled start of Coachella's first weekend. Right now nobody has a clue when even medium sized gatherings will be allowed again, let along multi-day megafestivals. "20 Years in the Desert" is a fun way to spend two hours while under lockdown, although it already made me feel nostalgic for what already feels like ancient times (i.e. pre-January 2020), when flying in to attend a big festival could be so easy and straightforward.
The only real historical/critical worth of the documentary happens in the first twenty minutes, which details the festival's origins and features interviews from all the founders and other principal players. I didn't know that the organizers at Goldenvoice Entertainment came from both the punk and electronic music scenes, providing a synergy between two very distant genres in the 80's. Their foresight appears prophetic today. I also had no idea that tickets for the first Coachella went on sale the day after the end of the disastrous Woodstock '99. Talk about bad timing.
The rest of the documentary is a combination of festival highlights and self-promotion, the latter mostly centred around the festival's cultural cache. There are a few nods to major European festivals, but nothing in the way of a serious compare and contrast. What does Coachella offer that other worldwide festivals can't, or won't? In its admittedly large California-based sphere of influence, Coachella is definitely a trend-setter. It's a revolutionary festival only if it's the only festival you know or care about. Just to name one example, Glastonbury put electronic acts in headlining spots more than a decade earlier, and Jay-Z headlined there two years before his supposedly history-making set at Coachella.
In the early years, Coachella was mainly known as the festival of reunions. Organizing the Jane's Addiction reunion was a coup that made the festival relevant almost overnight. The Pixies had reunited months before they appeared, but their headlining set was still a huge accomplishment. It arguably launched the wave of cult band reunions and proved that there was huge money to be made from Gen-X nostalgia. But they risked letting the reunion gimmick define and limit them, because there are only so many truly big reunions you can have. The documentary didn't give them enough credit for ransforming their image from an indie rock festival to a truly eclectic one that hands over headline spots to DJs (Tiesto) or to newer talents without a pre-existing legacy (Travis Scott). Another understated achievement was the decision to livestream nearly the entire festival starting a few years ago. This boosted their global presence immensely.
I would have liked to hear more about the logistics of organizing the two weekend festival, starting in 2012. How did they convince all the bands to go for it?
Moby brought up a point I'd never considered before, that European festivals are mostly enjoyable and have great atmospheres, but they're also cold, rainy, and muddy a lot of the time. A big part of making the yearly multi-day festival a viable concept in the US was undoubtedly the more favourable California weather.
The only real historical/critical worth of the documentary happens in the first twenty minutes, which details the festival's origins and features interviews from all the founders and other principal players. I didn't know that the organizers at Goldenvoice Entertainment came from both the punk and electronic music scenes, providing a synergy between two very distant genres in the 80's. Their foresight appears prophetic today. I also had no idea that tickets for the first Coachella went on sale the day after the end of the disastrous Woodstock '99. Talk about bad timing.
The rest of the documentary is a combination of festival highlights and self-promotion, the latter mostly centred around the festival's cultural cache. There are a few nods to major European festivals, but nothing in the way of a serious compare and contrast. What does Coachella offer that other worldwide festivals can't, or won't? In its admittedly large California-based sphere of influence, Coachella is definitely a trend-setter. It's a revolutionary festival only if it's the only festival you know or care about. Just to name one example, Glastonbury put electronic acts in headlining spots more than a decade earlier, and Jay-Z headlined there two years before his supposedly history-making set at Coachella.
In the early years, Coachella was mainly known as the festival of reunions. Organizing the Jane's Addiction reunion was a coup that made the festival relevant almost overnight. The Pixies had reunited months before they appeared, but their headlining set was still a huge accomplishment. It arguably launched the wave of cult band reunions and proved that there was huge money to be made from Gen-X nostalgia. But they risked letting the reunion gimmick define and limit them, because there are only so many truly big reunions you can have. The documentary didn't give them enough credit for ransforming their image from an indie rock festival to a truly eclectic one that hands over headline spots to DJs (Tiesto) or to newer talents without a pre-existing legacy (Travis Scott). Another understated achievement was the decision to livestream nearly the entire festival starting a few years ago. This boosted their global presence immensely.
I would have liked to hear more about the logistics of organizing the two weekend festival, starting in 2012. How did they convince all the bands to go for it?
Moby brought up a point I'd never considered before, that European festivals are mostly enjoyable and have great atmospheres, but they're also cold, rainy, and muddy a lot of the time. A big part of making the yearly multi-day festival a viable concept in the US was undoubtedly the more favourable California weather.
Monday, April 06, 2020
Moby, "Then It Fell Apart" (book)
Moby's first autobiography, "Porcelain", was in many ways not even about him. Big parts of it were about chronicling the early rave scene from an insider's perspective and documenting the smells and sounds of early 90's New York. In this telling, Moby's career developed organically and almost accidentally out of the chaos of the fledgling American rave scene. If it were a play, the set design (mainly the recreation of clubs that have long since closed down and entertainment districts that would be unrecognizable today) would be the star, while Moby and his friends would be acting out their personal dramas in the background.
"Then It Fell Apart" is much more of a standard rock star autobiography. Chapters alternate between his post-1999 rise to A-list stardom, and all the crazed debauchery that went along with it, and his upbringing as a poor, shy, and lonely kid of a single mother in upscale Darien, Connecticut. Each chapter stands as a self-contained story, usually taking place within a single day. His earliest memories as a neglected and sometimes horribly mistreated child are heartbreaking and were the most difficult parts of the book to get through. In this first part of the book, these childhood stories alternate with tales of the astonishing and wholly unexpected success of "Play".
Young Moby never finds comfort or success but he does develop an identity, largely filtered through his love of music -- punk and new wave, Joy Division, Echo and the Bunnymen. Viewed through this lens, Moby could be me or any of us weirdo alternative music loving kids. I was born nine years after him, but I was obsessed with Joy Division too, treated the first records I bought like crown jewels, and couldn't come clean to most people in my high school about how much I loved Depeche Mode. These chapters alternate with portraits of an adult Moby who is completely unrelatable -- globetrotting, filthy rich, and profoundly unhappy. His excesses go from entertaining to depressingly predictable in a hurry. Invited to fundraisers and political functions for the NYC elite, he finds himself no closer to happiness and acceptance than he did as a poor boy growing up among rich kids.
In the final part of the book, mid-80's Moby has a glimmer of a future and a measure of self-confidence. Against the odds, it looks like he'll escape Darien and end up OK. Adult Moby has also come full circle. He starts the book as a megastar in waiting, but he ends it as a mid-40's has been and professional alcoholic. Just when you can't bear to read another mind-numbing tale of his slow self destruction, he chooses to get help, and the book ends. He leaves the door open for a third book detailing his recovery, prolific post-sobriety music career, and activism.
While not the home run that "Porcelain" was, "Then It Fell Apart" is still a powerful continuation of the Moby story.
"Then It Fell Apart" is much more of a standard rock star autobiography. Chapters alternate between his post-1999 rise to A-list stardom, and all the crazed debauchery that went along with it, and his upbringing as a poor, shy, and lonely kid of a single mother in upscale Darien, Connecticut. Each chapter stands as a self-contained story, usually taking place within a single day. His earliest memories as a neglected and sometimes horribly mistreated child are heartbreaking and were the most difficult parts of the book to get through. In this first part of the book, these childhood stories alternate with tales of the astonishing and wholly unexpected success of "Play".
Young Moby never finds comfort or success but he does develop an identity, largely filtered through his love of music -- punk and new wave, Joy Division, Echo and the Bunnymen. Viewed through this lens, Moby could be me or any of us weirdo alternative music loving kids. I was born nine years after him, but I was obsessed with Joy Division too, treated the first records I bought like crown jewels, and couldn't come clean to most people in my high school about how much I loved Depeche Mode. These chapters alternate with portraits of an adult Moby who is completely unrelatable -- globetrotting, filthy rich, and profoundly unhappy. His excesses go from entertaining to depressingly predictable in a hurry. Invited to fundraisers and political functions for the NYC elite, he finds himself no closer to happiness and acceptance than he did as a poor boy growing up among rich kids.
In the final part of the book, mid-80's Moby has a glimmer of a future and a measure of self-confidence. Against the odds, it looks like he'll escape Darien and end up OK. Adult Moby has also come full circle. He starts the book as a megastar in waiting, but he ends it as a mid-40's has been and professional alcoholic. Just when you can't bear to read another mind-numbing tale of his slow self destruction, he chooses to get help, and the book ends. He leaves the door open for a third book detailing his recovery, prolific post-sobriety music career, and activism.
While not the home run that "Porcelain" was, "Then It Fell Apart" is still a powerful continuation of the Moby story.