The Sunday I spent at Riot Fest Chicago 2012, in its first year at Humboldt Park, is one of the single-best times I’ve ever had at a music festival. I’ve been to a ton of these things, in many different regions and for many different reasons, and Riot Fest’s first year at Humboldt was a revelation. The bands were perfectly curated, the venue was fantastic, the weather held nicely and the vibe, even for all the aggression coming from the various stages, was as friendly as seems possible. Over the course of one afternoon and evening, my festival included Fishbone onto Japanther to Built to Spill to NOFX to Jesus and Mary Chain through Elvis Costello and over to Iggy Pop, and it was fucking magical.
Fucking. Magical.
The best part was, the festival did not feel overstuffed or confused. Too often, these massive music festivals, in their attempts to have a little something for everybody, end up putting too many ingredients in the stew, sucking the fun out of too many shows as the price of elevating too few others. Riot Fest 2012, on the other hand, was perfectly-seasoned and expertly-cooked. The fact that it was in possibly the single-most beautiful park in all of Chicago on a sunny, delicious September weekend only amplified the taste. Last year’s event got a little bigger, but they didn’t go full Bonnaroo, keeping it mostly to punk, hard rock, and legacy bands of either genre, and landing the reunited Replacements as the overall headliner. The weather was less cooperative, but the word on the street was the same: Riot Fest’s inherent awesomeness carried the weekend.
In light of this focused success, for a certain breed of music fan Riot Fest became the festival “for us”. The culture-wide big-timers and headline-grabbers could go play in Grant Park or Indio or Manchester, but this was “our thing”. This was for “the few” who “got it” in whatever immature way that thought still makes sense to an adult. It was kind of unbelievable, too, that something like it still existed, considering how corporate and bloated the average music festival has become.
Which is why I can’t help being disappointed to see the Riot Fest organizers now taking their cues from the big boys. The recently-released 2014 lineup is about as overstuffed as is conceivable, to the general detriment of everything that turned me on about it in the first place. It makes perfect sense for them to take things in this direction (people do like money, after all), but that doesn’t mean it isn’t also a major league bummer.
The original premise was simple: starting in 2005, a bunch of different Chicago music venues banded together for one weekend to showcase a variety of hard rock and punk bands in one cohesive celebration. Throughout the Second City for two or three full nights, fans of aggressive music could find a wide selection of concerts at which to have some fun. It was a great idea, but the travel aspects and natural spread led to a bit of ghettoization and audience-splitting. One girl’s favorite band might be playing at the Congress, but then her second-favorite would be playing at Double Door and her boyfriend’s favorite at Reggie’s, with miles of asphalt separating all those places and no way to cover that space efficiently.
Enter 2012’s one-location festival. Instead of forcing everybody to travel all over town by car or bus or cab, the organizers were able to get everyone into one beautiful and often under-utilized green space. And not just the people, but vendors and a carnival and a god damn ferris wheel in addition to four stages and however many bands of varying levels of renown (see the list above). They threw Riot Fests in other cities, too, similar-themed digs going down in New York and Toronto and Denver and Dallas. Wherever other people might want to party like this, Riot Fest would oblige them, though Chicago’s remained the flagship.
Once cooperative weather for 2012 was confirmed, everyone I talked to and went with began to entertain the thought that we might be in for something special. I cannot overstate how great was that success, one nearly equaled last year, if only for the historic, sloppy, rain-soaked Replacements performance. Music festivals all do a similar thing, but this did that one thing as differently as seems possible. There were trees and space alongside these great shows, lending a relaxed and down-home vibe to an otherwise big-time jam, and this in a cozy neighborhood on Chicago’s west side, not the Loop or (God forbid) the suburbs.
A human scale, an urban neighborhood, great music, and space for everybody.
In short, Riot Fest was perfect, a beautiful situation now impossible to replicate with this year’s lineup and the ensuing expectations.
Credit where it’s due: Lollapalooza’s lineup sucks a ton of ass this year, and that’s probably thanks in large part to Riot Fest heading in this direction. However they managed to do it, these organizers not only stole Perry Farrell’s thunder but they GOT HIS BAND TO PLAY THEIR FESTIVAL!
Along with Jane’s Addiction, Riot Fest landed the Cure, the National, Weezer, Wu-Tang Clan, the Flaming Lips, Slayer, NOFX, Dropkick Murphys, and an almost-incomprehensible variety of other acts rounding out the middle and bottom tiers. This is a one-stop shop that obviously made an effort to be nothing but intensity and big names, a massive three-day get-together to rival any happening in America in 2014. They even got Pussy Riot! Rock fans of all stripes will descend upon the area alongside casual fans interested in something new and different, tickets hot and the audience either a vibrating mass of excitement seeking ultimate release, or a laid-back bunch of disposable income seeing what’s up over here.
That’s a wee bit problematic, as that combination, at this scale, is simply not what Riot Fest has been, nor what it stood for to a lot of people. Instead, it was a sort of antithesis to that ambitious approach. This was the festival that a rock fan could come get weird at without worrying about yuppies in their site-lines or hippies near the mosh pits. Where the only bad attitudes would be the ones that served a purpose, and the faint of heart knew their (I’ll be honest, our) place was on the other side of the soundboard for certain shows, just in case things got real, which they did, but all to the good.
This, now, is what it looks like when an organization goes huge, when small-timers make their play for the big, and I can’t shake the feeling that they’re asking for trouble. This kind of all-purpose lineup leads to greater crowd variance, which can lead to greater misunderstandings between strangers, which can lead to greater potential for unfortunate occurrences, which can end up in a larger number of fights and a crummier time for all.
Think about it, and be honest as you do. Chicagoans are not exactly known for temperance, nor for keeping things reasonable. Beyond that, the space isn’t THAT big, leading to many different types of people spending all day getting soused and rocking out in the company of others for which they tend historically not to care much. Imagine a thousand people Dropkick Murphys drunk running across a small flock of Teagan and Sara fans, or NOFX punks fresh off an adrenalized good time deciding they feel like fucking with Flaming Lips hippies. Weezer nerds won’t have a hell of a lot in common with Slayer die-hards, either, and who knows who might heckle Billy Bragg’s politics. Go up and down the roster, and the potential conflicts reveal themselves without much effort. This feels like three or four separate festivals glued together with Quik-Crete and powered by draft beer stronger than anyone wants to acknowledge.
I’m not arguing for a monochromatic, one-note, Everyone In Their Right Place idea of show-going, either. I’m just saying, many of these bands have insanely-devoted groups of fans well-versed in the rules of their particular kind of show, their particular culture, and how to have the right kind of good time for that experience, after which all bets are off. An All You Can Eat lineup brings out a lot of other people far less practiced, and far less interested. I’m not worried about people who know what they’re doing and love the music, but those who don’t, and furthermore don’t give a shit.
When something attempts to be everything to everyone, it ends up at-best halving relevance, especially for those deep-divers left looking for a new scene. There was a thing that happened these past couple years, and its success moved those in-charge to change that thing into a MUCH bigger deal. The fact that Riot Fest Chicago basically neutered and destroyed this year’s Lollapalooza is an unquestionably good thing, but the larger point remains uncomfortable and unfortunate. The thing it was before is not the thing it will be again. What once was so beautiful has been left behind for something else entirely.
Riot Fest is dead. Long live Riot Fest.