Radiohead/ Beastie Boys/ Blur/ Underworld/ Liz Phair
Giants Stadium
New Jersey
June 7, 2003

A vast cloud of irony surrounded the Field Day Music Festival, held last Saturday in Giants Stadium. Originally intended to draw music fans out of the city for two days of sunny fun on Long Island, the event was reduced to a one-day affair, held in the swamps of Jersey, after the good folks of Suffolk County refused to grant the organizers a permit. To make matters much worse, Mother Nature decided to deliver a rainstorm of Biblical proportion, a virtual downpour that lasted nearly the entire day, prompting several British performers to apologize, as if they’d brought this cockney weather with them.

Yes, indeed, this was truly a day to remember – a day so bad, it was amazing. The stadium’s parking lot was filled with would-be tailgaters, drinking cheap beer in the friendly confines of heated mini vans. Would-be scalpers roamed from car to car, trying to move would-be hot tickets. And inside the venue, would-be concert lovers bought ponchos to protect their would-be sufficient raincoats from the supernatural elements. Inevitably, an event that was supposed to conjure the spirit of a college camping trip took on a more war-like atmosphere. We were in the shit, as they say.

It was not impossible to have a good time at Field Day. But it was damn hard, especially when one forgot to put on appropriate footwear. I stood outside for three songs of the second stage act My Morning Jacket – a band I thoroughly enjoyed a few weeks ago at another summer festival – but I quickly realized I could not take the wet for another minute. I relocated to the near-empty stadium, where I nibbled quietly on an overpriced Polish sausage, took in the main stage acts from a 100 yards away, and watched my socks slowly dry on the seat next to me.

There were a few brave thousand who danced in the rain and defied the will of nature. I might have felt old, if I hadn’t seen several concertgoers removed from the waterlogged crowd on stretchers. The public announcements regarding hypothermia were also a bit disconcerting. (Hypothermia! In June!) Ultimately, I came to realize that without proper drugging, the concert could only be enjoyed from the bleachers.

Not surprisingly, the performances were pretty unremarkable. Spiritualized were good, as were Underworld. But my memories of both performances are a blur. Maybe I am a “the glass is half-empty” type guy but I much more clearly recall the sinking feeling I felt in my gut, as the stage manager announced Beck would not be performing because he was just taken to the hospital after slipping back stage. At that point, I tried to convince myself Beck could make it back to the Stadium before the Beastie Boys’ set finished and maybe even take part in their show.

No such luck.

Not only did Beck not return, but the Boys gave an unprofessional performance worthy of a middle school marching band. Can someone please tell these jokers they actually need to practice before they play? I mean, they didn’t even have a set list. They just bumbled from one incomplete version of a song to another. Horrendous.

Miraculously, Radiohead managed to both stop the rain and put on a spectacular show. Performing old classics (“Just,” “Climbing Up The Walls,” “Paranoid Android”) as well as fresh material from the just released Hail To The Thief (“2+2=5,” “Sail To The Moon,” “Where I End And You Begin”), the band was in rare form. It would be nice to say their show was worth the wait in the rain, or the $93 ticket, or the weeks of drama leading up to the festival. But that just wouldn’t be true. They were, instead, a grand conclusion to a horrible episode.

Needless to say, I am thankful for the fine show Thom and the boys delivered. I am equally thankful for the short-lived dry spell that graced their performance. During “Everything In Its Right Place,” I even felt as though I were having a close encounter of the third kind of experience, absorbing the atmosphere of an outdoor festival with good music and decent weather. It was exhilarating, especially after the long day of waiting.

Naturally, the festival left me wanting more and I sincerely hope the folks who organized Field Day can find the energy and drive to try this again. (I might suggest finding a more welcoming town than Calverton, N.Y. They just don’t seem to hip to the whole outdoor festival concept.) But with a proper venue and a kinder, gentler Mother Nature presiding over the festivities, Field Day could blossom into the sort of grand music event it was intended to be.

Ben French

Nude As The News
09.06.03