It’s time to coin a phrase: fedorable. That is the hat of this year. Both men and women abound with these caps, worn with different styles and attitudes. There’s the semi-sleazy bearded and greasy type who swaggers around in clothing not fit for this kind of weather. Then, there’s the Francoise Hardy type: lithe and thin and wearing an airy red dress topped off with a white fedora with a black hatband. It’s fedorable.
“Are you with some bitches?” One of the sleazy types has said this three times now into a cell phone that’s apparently having reception problems. The Red Hot Chili Peppers are playing to a sea of funk aficionados who are leaping in unison to “Higher Ground.” A plane goes by overhead that’s transmitting some words and looks rather alien. Someone says, “Is that a UFO?” As it gets closer, the words “You Know What You Did” can be read, followed by “QOTSA” and a radio station to tune into. Apparently, Queens of the Stone Age have pirated a local Christian station’s signal and are broadcasting their new album for the drive home tonight.
“How many celebrity bass players are there?” is something to consider while Flea steps center stage, performing a speedy and distorted solo of some kind. Win Butler walks by with an entourage. He’s eating something crunchy out of a small bag. William Reid of the Jesus and Mary Chain can be overheard saying, “That was just a warm up” to a blonde-haired girl. Whether he was talking about more shows for his band or something else is for only the blonde and God to know. Day two is coming to an end. A testament to the festival itself is that the artists from last night are still lingering. A testament to Danny DeVito’s taste is this is at least the third Coachella he’s been seen at. Was that Vincent Gallo, Mischa Barton, Adam Brody? Isn’t this supposed to be a desert? GREGG LAGAMBINA