I thought I was going to be crushed at the David Guetta show.

And I wasn’t even in the tent.

Happened to me once before, decades back, at a Chambers Brothers show in Boston Common. My feet left the ground, I was being held up by bodies, somehow I squirmed my way to the right and was ejected from the scrum.

And I’ve never forgotten it.

On Saturday I saw too many bands giving good performances of mediocre material, and one band with great material that was so long in the tooth it was creepy, and an acoustic act that was as out of place as a Muslim at a Bar Mitzvah. But on my way to the Sahara tent I encountered Kasabian. They reaffirmed my optimism. They were good.

You can tell when an act has that little something extra.

But minutes before Kasabian left the stage, the swarm started to move. That’s what it was, like endless gnats moving to the Sahara tent.

I moved too, but got so frightened of being caught in the mass of bodies that I stayed outside the tent, where I was still being bumped into and twirled like a top. Guetta eventually featured Usher, but by that time I was gone. The patrons kept streaming in, I wanted out.

And then there was that Canadian singer, with a bunch of extra players on stage. She was charismatic, merging with her guitar, but once again, the material was disappointing.

And then I saw Bon Iver.

To say this guy and his band were great would be an understatement, they were TRANSCENDENT!

Incredibly well-rehearsed.

But most importantly, they sounded completely different from every other act on the bill. They were a party of one. I couldn’t take my eyes off them.

In a sea of mediocrity, excellence stands out.

Oh, what the hell, let me start naming names.

Grace Potter and the Nocturnals. If she doesn’t get your willy moving, you’re gay (not that there’s anything wrong with that!) The sound was impeccable, the solos were good, and the material was so damn mediocre that she could close nobody, applause was minimal. And when AWOLNATION started up on the main stage, I gave up. That’s one of the problems at Coachella, sound bleed. It’s a war of who can turn up their amps louder. And if you think this is appealing, you’re deaf.

How about tUnE-yArDs? Great on paper, decent on YouTube and so out there live that almost no one clapped. We were all shaking our heads. I couldn’t find one person she impressed.

The aforementioned AWOLNATION was loud and that’s it. The less said the better.

Kaiser Chiefs were in the wrong location, maybe the wrong era. In the bright California sunshine, their music didn’t penetrate. I loved hearing "I Predict A Riot", but the audience was near somnambulant.

Noel Gallagher’s High Flying Birds…

Who gives a shit.

Smart guy, good guitar player, sub-mediocre voice. The more you listen, the more you miss Liam. I know Liam’s insane, but that doesn’t mean he’s not necessary.

Buzzcocks?

Noise.

And with so much more noise coming from every other stage, the cacophony made me want to move on, which I did.

Laura Marling?

Why don’t you whip out your guitar at the baseball game? She was so out of place, so overwhelmed by sound bleed as to be irrelevant.

Squeeze?

Positively creepy. I’d hate to be an over-the-hill rock band. People remember your hits, want to hear nothing new and you play to an ever-dwindling audience, unable to give up because you were someone once. It hurts, I know. I loved hearing "Tempted", but the first part of the show was material I never need to hear again, and if you think they were good, you still believe your grandma is a hottie.

Shins?

I’ll admit they were decent, but I never got in front of the stage. You’ve got to eat sometime, and go to the car for more clothes.

Feist?

I wanted to love her. Up close and personal her complexion was less than perfect, she can really wail on the guitar, she closed me, she’s a rock star, but the longer I stood there the more the material washed off of me. She had everything but the hits.

And I’d like to explain what made Kasabian so damn good, but you know music, it’s like pornography, you know greatness when you see it.

And I didn’t think David Guetta was great. But there was no denying he had the audience in the palm of his hand.

As for the headliner, Radiohead… They made a crucial mistake. Trying to be unique, they refused to use the giant video screens on each side of the stage. Instead, we were subjected to their own tiny floating screens over the stage. Very cool. Excellent in theatres. But if you’re playing to tens of thousands, it just doesn’t translate. The problem with Radiohead? You just couldn’t see them!

And they were so boring at first, they lost fifteen or twenty percent of their audience, they just drifted off to Kaskade.

As did I.

The Sahara tent was full. There were incredible pink effects. There was an energy absent from the Radiohead show.

Oh, I went back to see Thom Yorke, et al. They played a few numbers I was familiar with. But really, they’re a band for fans only. If you’re not one, you’re not gonna be closed.

Which brings us back to Bon Iver…

Talk about overhyped! Every hipster in America is testifying about him.

Furthermore, the press fawns.

But he was everything we’re looking for, completely special without trying too hard.

He looks like a guy from your math class. His chest is not ripped and his hair is getting thin. But boy could he wring ethereal effects from his guitar.

And there was brass and backup vocals and the end result was an aural tapestry you couldn’t help but weave yourself into. What Justin Vernon was selling you can’t get at the movies, you can’t read in a book, it’s the essence of music.

Sure, he’s got a nontraditional voice. But so does Neil Young.

And Neil’s a good comparison. Because both he and Mr. Vernon go their own way, obey their own muse, are unaffected by both trends and media feedback.

Once upon a time, in the era of classic rock, the superstars sounded nothing alike.

But today, everybody fits into a slot. You rarely hear something new. And if you do, it’s not infectious.

But Bon Iver was.

And I realize Bon Iver is not EDM ("electronic dance music" for the uninitiated). But if you want to survive the deejay onslaught, that’s what you’ve got to be, different, unique, special.

Forget the TV competition shows. That’s like watching Little League.

Forget Top Forty radio. That’s old men doing it without emotion for the bucks. Breaking rules is anathema.

If you’re not willing to risk everything, without complaint, if you’re not willing to go your own way, you’re just not gonna make it, not in today’s market.

Come on Grace Potter, write one irresistible song! We don’t want to sleep with airheads, not more than once!

Feist…stop being so precious!

Noel Gallagher… Either form a band with Axl Rose or get back together with your brother, otherwise we just don’t care.

We live in an era where all that matters is excellence. And this is especially true at a festival like Coachella. When put next to great, good just fades away, we’re not interested.

If you can’t blow people away, if you’re not the cat’s meow, you’re better off avoiding the festival, you’re just gonna look small and irrelevant.

But if you can wring a magic sound from your instrument, if you can make us believe this moment is all that matters, if you can make the rest of the world fall away, getting us to concentrate only on you…

Then we’re all ears.

The revolution wasn’t televised, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen, electronic dance music RULES!

So I’m standing in the Mojave tent watching Dawes and Lisa comes up, leans in my ear, and says "YOU’VE GOT TO SEE WHAT’S HAPPENING IN THE NEXT TENT OVER, YOU WON’T BELIEVE IT."

Yes, there are five stages at Coachella. The main one, called the "Coachella Stage", the one you’ve seen in all the photographs, next to it another outdoor stage, monikered "Outdoor Stage", and then, side by side, three tents, "Gobi", "Mojave" and "Sahara". Not that they’re really tents, not something you’d sleep in for the summer, but giant pavilions, open-sided edifices with high roofs. And as a result, sound bleeds from one to another. If you make soft music, avoid Coachella, you’ll get drowned out.

But if you come to the festival, if you want to know what’s truly happening, you can spend your entire visit at the Sahara tent, that’s where the deejays hold court and the little boys and girls twirl and dance and are mesmerized to the point of ecstasy.

I’d love to tell you the story of Gary Clark, Jr. I saw the man at a private show in Hollywood two months back. Overworked by the label, I just didn’t get it. But Mr. Clark ruled in the Gobi tent, where the audience could feel the energy and experience a guitarslinger for maybe the very first time. He broke his career wide open. That can happen at Coachella, where the rules of radio are thrown out the door, you experience the smorgasbord of music and are open to being closed.

But most acts didn’t close these kids.

And it is kids.

You see Coachella has become a rite of passage. Thank god their parents didn’t come with them. The girls were wearing bikinis even though it was fifty degrees with sporadic raindrops. The boys were wearing costumes, everything from space helmets to raccoon hats. They came to see and be seen. And to dance to the music.

It’s a different culture. The baby boomers are about winning, becoming a shining star, dominating. Gen-X’ers are just pissed they didn’t get to sip at the trough, the boomers ruined it for them.

And Gen-Y and the Millennials are nothing like their forebears. They want to be a member of the group, they want to PARTICIPATE!

This is a radical change. It’s less about being on stage and being a star than being with your homies in the audience having fun. That whole concept of us vs. them, performer vs. audience, that has ruled for decades is toast. Now the performers and the audience are all in it together. And the mainstream music business just doesn’t understand.

If I ran Coachella, I’d eliminate the old acts. And the new too. Everyone with a guitar, everyone with a band. Because most people just don’t care.

Supposedly the Black Keys are one of the hottest bands in America. But they were smoked by Swedish House Mafia. It was no contest.

I’m not saying the Keys were bad. In fact, they were very good.

But most people just didn’t care.

But forty minutes after they were done, when it was fifty two degrees and still raining, Swedish House Mafia took the main stage, the Coachella stage, and blasted a sound that united the masses.

Yes, for the first time all day, there was a crowd, covering the entire field. A sea of humanity, a swarm jumping, writhing, dancing, all the way back.

This is how it works. About thirty percent of the way back from the main stage there’s a sound booth. And until the Black Keys played, not a single act could fill past this point. Jimmy Cliff KILLED! If you ever saw "The Harder They Come", you’d be thrilled. He hit the stage to the brass notes of "You Can Get It If You Really Want", it was magical. But almost no one cared. Applause was minimal. As was attendance.

But when Swedish House Mafia took the stage, you were reminded of a rally in Nazi Germany or the U.S.S.R. You know, you’ve seen the pictures, endless people and massive power, scary to those not there. And electronic dance music is scary to the old guard. We were busy debating it in the AEG trailer all night long. Could it fill an arena on a Monday night. What venues, what price.

But what’s fascinating is these deejays are not prima donnas. They’ll do arenas one night, stadiums another, and clubs and theaters thereafter. It’s all about the music, it’s all about the sound.

So I finish watching Dawes play to a limited audience and then Lisa starts telling me the story. That in the middle of the set her eye caught people RUNNING to the Sahara tent. I pulled out my guide as we walked there. Madeon was spinning.

I guarantee you ninety plus percent of my audience has no idea who this guy is. I certainly didn’t.

But the kids did.

Not because of television, not because of radio, but because of the Internet.

And word wasn’t spread by some faux social media specialist. There was no "campaign". Madeon is owned by the people.

He’s a seventeen year old French kid. Paul Tollett had to get his parents’ permission for him to come.

And you couldn’t even get in the Sahara tent. You could barely get near it. But you could see the lights, you could hear the music, it was infectious.

This week Kraftwerk is playing at the Modern. I saw the band during their "Computer World" tour. At the Santa Monica Civic. Long before many of you were even born. In the very early eighties.

It was one of the best shows I’ve ever seen. And it was all electronic.

Swedish House Mafia is all electronic. They were revealed on stage and the place went NUTS!

And so did I.

I felt the energy, the pulse, the adrenaline that a great show delivers. That the pop acts and the oldsters so often don’t. The three guys are up there like a parody of an SNL skit but it worked.

That’s what you’ve got to know, this electronic music works. It’s owned by the kids. And it’s got nothing to do with what came before, record companies are irrelevant. Hell, Swedish House Mafia is headlining Coachella AND THEY’VE NEVER PUT OUT A PROPER ALBUM!

Think about that. You’re sitting at home crafting ten tunes to make you feel good. To make you believe you’re a musician.

No, a musician plays music. It’s just that simple. And recordings have become secondary to live because it’s all about the experience, that’s what the younger generation treasures.

You should have been there last night. Or in the Sahara tent all day long, it was always full.

It’s a new music business.

And it’s THRILLING!

The rich seduce the poor and the old are seduced by the young

"When You Gonna Wake Up"
Bob Dylan

You can buy these albums, in this case "Slow Train Coming", but as time flies by it becomes clear they’re going to be forgotten. Not like "Tubthumping", which someone e-mailed me about last night. I’m not talking about one hit wonders, I’m not talking about never-beens, but albums that permeated society once upon a time that spurned no obviously repeatable hits, great listening experiences that have seemed to fade away and not radiate.

What’s most notable about "Slow Train Coming" is the sound. Unlike so many Dylan albums, the recordings were not done in an instant, throwaway fashion, where the urgency is more important than getting it right.

Even better, the players were an amalgamation of Muscle Shoals and Dire Straits, after the English band had broken through but before they went into hyperspace on MTV. Yes, "Slow Train Coming" was Dylan’s Christian album, but it came on like a freight train moving through molasses, a weird combination of black and white, north and south, masterminded by the legendary producers Jerry Wexler and Barry Beckett. Yes, as memorable as Mark Knopfler’s guitar work is, it’s Beckett’s keyboard playing that holds the whole thing together, it’s the religion that keeps all the players connected. Listen to "Gotta Serve Somebody" for a demonstration.

But that’s far from the only great track on "Slow Train Coming". I’m partial to "Man Gave Names To All The Animals", "Gonna Change My Way Of Thinking" and…

"When You Gonna Wake Up".

Sounds obvious.

But it’s not.

First of all, the song starts subtly, like everyone’s in the studio, looking at each other, counting in, trying to find the groove.

And despite the Christian underpinning, there’s infinite wisdom, it’s thirty-odd years later, the names and faces have changed, but the story remains the same, and once again, Dylan was ahead of the game.

And a great record continually rewards, you think you know it by heart, but successive listenings reveal truths you couldn’t see previously. Like the lyric above.

Isn’t that what’s going on in our country right now, the rich are seducing the poor? Making them believe they too can become wealthy, even though the odds are stacked against them, worse than it’s been in decades? What do the Republicans say…"the party of the rich and the soon to be rich"?

What a load of crap.

Not that the Democrats are innocent. It’s not a party thing, it’s class warfare. They keep warning us against calling it that, but that’s what it is.

But the seduction of the old by the young is almost as big a problem. Mothers diet down and wear the clothes of their children, as if your exterior denotes your interior, as if once you’ve had your face lifted, you’re truly thirty five.

But you’re not, there’s no fountain of youth that will prevent you from aging on the inside.

The young are inexperienced, they’re stupid. They’ve just got smooth skin and less physical pain, a bit more optimism.

Would you like to be operated on by a teenage MD?

Do you really think the prepubescent music is best?

But afraid of dying, being told by marketers and media that they’re over the hill, the old are chasing the young.

And that’s ridiculous.

Sure, I’m closer to death, I’ve got lines on my face, aches in my body, but I’m happier than I’ve ever been. Age gives you perspective, wisdom. But those concepts are irrelevant in a world dominated by nitwits like Kim Kardashian.

Stop being embarrassed by your age. Stop lying about it. You can even stop dyeing your hair. All you are is vain. Take a look at Dylan…did he get plastic surgery, is he going out to clubs, trying to recapture a youth that won’t make him or you happy?

No, he wears his age as a badge of honor.

But he was always wise beyond his years.

Then again, he was so much older then, he’s younger than that now.

Yup, kids think they know everything.

Oldsters know how much they don’t. They’ve got more questions than answers. They’re honest.

Assuming they’re not too busy chasing the youngsters off a cliff.

Spotify link

Previous Rhinofy playlists

There’s a turntable in the room. With a hip note saying use it, but if you abuse it, if you break the needle, you pay.

And there are records too!

And cruising through them I know they were not put here by the IMS, the electronic music organization I’m here to confab with. Because the four albums are by the Cars, the Kinks, Blondie and Steve Perry. But they’re not cut-out items. It’s the Cars’ debut, which is the best. Blondie’s "Eat To The Beat", with "The Hardest Part"…do you know that cut? Here, let me link to it on Spotify, never a hit, it’s close to my favorite of theirs ever. And it’s an Arista Kinks album, "Give The People What They Want", with "Destroyer" and "Around The Dial". And Steve Perry’s "Street Talk", his debut with "Oh Sherrie". And if you’re too hip to love this cut, I’m gonna put it on Spotify too, because you’re no friend of mine if you can’t enjoy the exuberance of this mini-masterpiece.

Yes, I’m in a hipster hotel.

What a crazy world, where the hospitality business is hipper than the media business. Network TV is afraid of breaking rules and cable is playing to the lowest common denominator, it gives us no respect. But this cinder block edifice in the heart of Palm Springs is closer to my heart than anything that emanates from the airwaves.

They’ve got a Polaroid camera too. They’ll sell you the film, for $25 in the mini-bar, and if your heart desires, you can take the whole thing home with you for $120.

It’s my first time to Coachella. But perusing the bodies by the pool, the high grade room service and the south of the border vibe, I get it. It’s a party. You can camp in the dirt in Bonnaroo, or you can live large in the desert.

But it’s gonna cost you.

Then again, the attendees like that, they like being separated from the riff-raff. They like the fact that it’s hard to get to and costs some bucks.

Staying with the hotel…

You never want to stay on the ground floor, right?

I’ll admit, I’ve got hotel room paranoia, that I’m always gonna get a bad one. And I walk in and the carpet is stained. But when I remove my sunglasses, I see it’s concrete! That distress adds character. And downstairs is where you want to be, I’ve got my own walled-off patio!

I’d like to say the drive in was a breeze, but there’s traffic in California where you’d least expect it, where there’s no visible habitues and no construction. Made it in two and a half hours, but I could have shaved thirty minutes if I’d driven at 2 A.M. I listened to Tom Petty’s "Buried Treasure" on the satellite. He played some gems, like this version of "Soul Deep" by Clarence Carter that I’d never heard. But I wish he’d talk about the tracks more. And he’s been hanging with Dylan too much, he’s now starting to sound like him.

And when I got close I saw billboards. Music billboards. Not only for the soon to be gone and back from the dead playing the casinos, but electronic music. There was a sign advertising the drop of Paul van Dyk’s new CD and another promoting Avicii’s summer tour.

AEG paid for that.

That’s one thing Pete Tong wants to get into tonight. Is electronic music on the verge of being whored out? Are the big boys gonna come in and ruin it?

All I can say is I remember Bill Graham closing the Fillmore East, ranting about the end of the business before it truly penetrated the hinterlands. And everybody likes money. Most especially the acts.

But there’s already a culture, that’s profitable, we’ll see.

So driving out here my mood began to sink.

And when I saw the exterior of the hotel I was crestfallen. Upscale it is not. Then again, there was an R8 in the parking lot. That’s what I love about music, when done right it throws off a ton of cash. And right now, all that cash is in electronic music. The popsters try ever so hard to break through and the deejays rake in the dough and fly private. Furthermore, the little girls understand. That pop is controlled by old farts, that it’s a lowest common denominator money-seeking machine, and electronic’s for them. Where the audience counts. Where it’s about the experience.

I’m having an experience right now, and I just got here!

IMS USA: A Symposium

Pete Tong: don’t let big business ‘destroy’ EDM scene

Spotify playlist

P.S. Just ran a speed test (at speedtest.net). Download is 6.46 Mbps and upload is 2.48 Mbps, which is markedly faster than the connection at any mainstream, especially four or five star, hotel, I’ve ever stayed at. The hipsters know what’s important.