Photos: Coachella Day Three
Sunday morning, I was in a world of hurt. My ass muscles were sore from running around all weekend, and my shoulder muscles were sore from lugging around my camera gear and laptop. Did I mention that I only managed about 5 hours of sleep each night?
I was trying to get there early to see Grand Ole Party start the show at the Outdoor Theater, but I didn’t quite make it. I did hear “Look Out Young Son” floating across the field as I made my way to the Gobi tent for Linton Kwesi Johnson.
It seemed kind of incongruous at first for a poet to be “performing” at Coachella, but as soon as he started reading “Five Nights of Bleeding,” it made perfect sense. The man breathes rhythm and his poetry is meant to be spoken, not read. The refrain of, “madness, madness, war,” still gives me chills.