We’re sitting here far back from the stage in the chairs-allowed zone. We’re waiting for Cee Lo and for Stevie after that.
But here’s the thing… Skattex. Scabex. Shrillex. Who are these guys? Over there on another stage more than a football field away, a band is playing: Skrillex. They’re way over there, yet the ground right here is throbbing and the air around us is being rent apart by their noise.
I know, I know. I have a bad attitude. I’m a grouch. An Eeyore. A dinosaur. I’m a cynical, old man who has no business being here if I’m going to act like this. But this is bad. And it’s really, really loud. And I know they don’t sound like what I’m hearing—I’ve heard their stuff online. And I can see the throngs of fans in front of the stage waving their hands in ecstasy.
All I know is this. In four more minutes, the agony will end.