Reelin' In the New Year's

The beginning of a new year is a natural time for reflection, this year more than most in my case.  But I'm not here to discuss me today.  Of course that's not entirely true.  This so-called "blog" is nothing if not self-indulgent at every turn.  While I find hope and optimism for myself in 2015, the same thing can not be said for a certain inland rock festival, if it can even be called that anymore.  With this week's announcement of the 2015 Coachella festival lineup, I was temporarily overwhelmed with the concept of AC/DC headlining the first night of this aging event.  This in and of itself is a head-scratcher.  Far be it from me to disparage AC/DC.  I'm sure they have wonderful new songs about their balls that they're dying to play for a new audience.  But is there not a time and place for everything? I think I was only vaguely aware that AC/DC existed post-Last Action Hero soundtrack. Here I lie.  I know that AC/DC's drummer tried to hire someone to murder someone last year and I know that Malcolm Young has such severe dementia that he's drooling out his days in a nursing home.  That pretty much just leaves Angus to scooch across the stage in his school boy uni.  (Sidenote: My crack research team just informed me that Angus is only 59.  That doesn't seem possible.)  BUT I DIGRESS.  I didn't even come here to talk about this farce.  I'm here to discuss the fine print on the Coachella poster that I didn't even discover until a closer examination today.  

Perhaps The Washington Post had the most apropos reaction to this one: "Coachella is dead, and Steely Dan killed it." Yes, that Steely Dan, the Blah Blah Blog house band in hipster Shangri-La.  Take a minute to let that settle in if you'd like.  I can wait.  

If you've kept up with this blog, you're probably married to me.  But you also are probably aware of my conflicted thoughts on hipsters and my less conflicted thoughts on Steely Dan.  I should preface this by saying I have never actually been to Coachella.  I have a vague idea of how I imagine it would smell though.  Punk Rock Girl worked the festival for five years or so.  She may use different words to explain it, but I can summarize: Coachella is three intense days showcasing the worst of humanity followed by 51 weeks of soul-level reconstruction that finally allowed her to look in the mirror again.

Back to Steely Dan.  What is my point?  Here is my problem with the entire scenario: I have no idea if Steely Dan was booked ironically.  We know that the Dan (that's what I'd call them if I was a fan anyway) isn't my cup of tea.  But they deserve to be heard and seen by a crowd that appreciates them.  Coachella is not a fair venue to throw them into.  The Steely Dan crowd, for the most part, won't be shelling out hundreds of bucks for their weekend ticket.  So you've got a crowd of people that spent their money to see Drake (Drake!) headline night three sitting around rolling their eyes before they decide to head back to their tent and smoke some pot rather than burn themselves out smooth jazz funk whatever on day one.  That's not fair to Steely Dan.  I honestly don't know what Coachella is anymore.  I don't think Coachella's organizers do either.  They might have the best of intentions to mix old and new music, but they don't have the flair that they used to.  They may have finally been driven mad trying to ride the unicorn that is the Smiths reunion. For what it's worth, I'd probably go to see the Smiths reunion.  

So this post is officially about my outlook on 2015.  The New Year.  But after eight days, I know only this: 2015 is the year Steely Dan plays Coachella.  Nothing is impossible this year.  Or anything is possible, for you glass half full types.  Let's get this thing going, there's no telling what happens next.