In the pit for Rage at Voodoo

By Andy Sipe

The anticipation of a Rage Against the Machine performance has my nerves shot and my blood pumping. I have a feeling I’m gonna die in the mosh pit. People have already started camping out in front of the Rage stage to hold up-close seats. Excitement is building in the diverse crowd, which includes people who had fallen in love with them post breakup and never got to see them live, people who loved them before, and people who have never heard of them (however that’s possible) to this day.

Once Rage hits the stage, the crowd moves in unison—stomping, shoving, elbowing, and just plain worshiping in their own abstract way their musical gods appearing in the flesh within arms reach. Slow but steady hard-hitting beats accentuated by intellectual lyrics, passionate vocals, and fantastic guitar work ignites the crowd, which roars on cue when the microphone is thrust in their direction, then begs for more after what seems like a sample set and is rewarded with a three-song encore set.

Eventually the band had to quit, and the crowd—beaten and bruised, myself with a fat lip and swollen various other body parts--decided to trample the VIP fences and storm the stadium seats, chanting various lyrics from random Rage songs into the hysterical crowds below. I didn't see any trash can fires or tipped-over cars, but who knows? I have only two eyes facing forward. All I do know is it was a satisfied crowd, and one of the best damn shows I have ever seen.

Saturday brought in the emo crowd for Smashing Pumpkins, Coheed and Cambria. Bangs in their eyes, black and pink eyeliner, and slits down their wrists. Again the gods gave us lovely weather. Tons of bodies strolled around City Park dressed in lavish Halloween costumes. So far I have been graced by Samuel L. Jackson from pulp fiction, a female underdog, a slutty Pippi Longstocking, Darth Maul, The Super Mario Brothers and various other indescribable costumed characters.

As far as bands go, there is a ton of funky brass from the local scene, whose pleasure it is to pass the time until the headliners arrive.

Everything looks twisted when the sun goes down—neon sunglasses, random twirling glow sticks, even a light-saber duel keep migrating crows entertained in the dark. I had to work my booth gig and I didn't get to see the Smashing Pumpkins.

Sunday the crowds were mainly young kids and older couples—twenty-somethings were infrequent for some reason. A ton of merch and freebies were tossed out in anticipation of the festival coming to an end, as tired booth workers are looking to pack up early tonight. The park is looking pretty well trashed, andpark workers are doing their best to clean the place up before it reopens tomorrow to the general public.

I wonder how much money the average patron spent at the weekend event, and where did all that money come from? How can everyday people afford this? You can do a festival like Voodoo the full-cost way, or on the economy plan like I did. But however they did it, attendees had a memorable weekend at the 2007 Voodoo Festival. I know I did, even if I did leave early on Sunday.