Ok, I’m stupid. I was browsing Wikipedia for celeb birthdays and saw this:

Gee, I have a pic of The Cure’s bassist, I thought. So I dug into the archives and found the previously unpublished pic above. I re-processed and uploaded, and then I launched a full social blast on all channels to display my cleverness. Just one problem. Phil Thornalley isn’t the real Cure bassist. He was a one-time fill-in/producer. Debi Del Grande correctly laughed at me and pointed out my gaffe. Thanks, Debi! Boy, I feel stupid. The picture I have is of Simon Gallup, the real Cure bassist. So, Happy Birthday Phil… and there is a pic of Simon whose birthday it is not. Cool? Cool. Then go see all of Debi’s pics of The Cure. #1 Superfan!

Here’s the one we used for Yahoo! Music:

New Flickr Search « Flickr Blog.

Wow, Flickr reoganized their search results page. At first I thought it was a vaguely general positive. I was ready to rip Flickr for their snail’s pace of progress and lack of innovation, but then I realized that when you search the site for my favorite event to photograph, “coachella,” it gives me some additional recognition. I am awesome.  So yeah, if you keep rolling out these incremental tweaks and ignore the larger social media picture, that’s fine. Keep letting Facebook drink your milkshake — especially if you continue focus on how great I am.

Is when someone finds themselves in one of my photos. It just happened where the curious eyes in the photo above commented on Flickr. That’s so great, I get goosebumps.

Sunset Fans at Devendra Banhart @ Coachella 2009 on Flickr – Photo Sharing!.

Sitting there on the cool grass of a polo field, my ears ringing and my feet throbbing, I was waiting for The Cure to wrap up the third and final day of the Coachella music festival. My exhaustion spoke eloquently to me about a job well done, about having photographed thirty-three bands in three days, and how that was quite enough for anyone. Just sit, my fatigue said. Rest up, shoot The Cure and go back to the house and swim. And, I was fine with that.

Except, I didn’t want it to end. As grumpy as I’d been at times, and as much as I struggled in spots over the weekend, I had a moment of purity. I let in the good vibes of fifty thousand music fans flowing through the air over my head, got up off the ground with a gleam in my eye, and I strode through the night towards the distant Mojave tent to take pictures of those sexy kids in The Kills.

Another strange year at Coachella. I photographed it for Yahoo! Music and the lovely and talented Lyndsey Parker – rock writer par excellence. I spent quality time chatting up strangers this time: Fernando traveled from Mexico City to cover the event, only his publication got him a photo wristband, but failed to request an actual ticket, which he had to buy. The security contingent came from a nearby military base. One staffer confided to me that they were “voluntold” to be there until two A.M. and had PT at five the next day. I met fans in the front for Paul McCartney who inexplicably got there at eight-thirty in the morning. I met a girl whose most amazing festival highlight was Peter Bjorn and John, a band with only memorable song in their repertoire. She wanted to know how “deep” she could get in our musical conversation. Clearly she was on a higher plane.

As much as I saw and heard this weekend — Karen Oh as Christmas decoration, My Bloody Valentine’s tsunami of distortion, crazy denizens from all species — I know I missed so much more. Coachella adds more visual stimulation every year. Even on my way out for the final time, I was seeing all sorts of artsy things I didn’t even know was there. The spectacle can be oppressive in its immensity. You capture what you can, and remember a fraction of the rest. I could go and not shoot a single band and still get lost in the photographic opportunities in that magical place. (article continues beneath photo)

But, musical artists were there and it was my job to get them with their eyes open, without microphones obscuring their face, and standing in or near dramatic lighting. I did that to varying degrees of success. Of the thirty-three hundred images I captured over three days, these here are my favorite photos.

This was also a year of operational SNAFU and hindrances. Certain performers restricted photographers from their sets, an annoying practice getting more common over the years, though I was surprised it had spread to include random nobodies at three in the afternoon in side tents. Before the festival I got notes from talented photographers telling me how difficult it was to get credentials this year. Apparently the publicity agency MSO held back most of their photographer and press wristbands to hand them out to the army of seventeen-year-old girls in minidresses, oversized sunglasses, and flipflops that were wearing the credentials and clogging the photo pit. Wielding Nikon Coolpix point-and-shoots or Blackberries, these pros spent half the time calling their friends to give them tips on how to sneak in as well. In previous years on the first day of the festival, the photo pit would be clogged with VIP and backstage wristbands as well as credentialed photographers and press. This would inevitably lead to complaints, and the next day security would start checking for photo wristbands specifically and keeping the VIPs backstage where they belong. This year, the rich and wish-they-were-famous were onto the game because they all had press and photo bands. Maybe it was intentional on the part of MSO to ensure a lot of coverage on teen girls Myspace pages.

Even getting in was an adventure. On the first day, I was personally escorted past the throngs to the front gates no less than three times only to be told that press actually couldn’t enter at that particular point, but not to worry, they would personally escort me to another entry to repeat the scenario. I should have been wearing my minidress and big sunglasses.

Still, it’s all in good fun. You can’t have an event like this without long lists of WTF moments. I never saw anything too terrible. The biggest problem is that after coming to this festival for so many years, I finally faced a real hardship. I lost a lens cap here for the first time ever. I’ll be checking the lost & found photos that Coachella will put up in the next few days. Maybe I’ll get lucky, yet again.

Right this very moment, our heroes of summer are honing their reflexes to catlike precision. They’re sharpening their eyes to slow down action and not miss a single important detail. The titans of baseball know that preparation now will mean the difference between glory and second place. Spring training is where it all starts.

Um, me too!

With the Coachella Valley Arts and Music Festival looming, and my photographer’s pass pending* I wanted to get some swings in with my trusty old Canon 5D with the kung-fu battery grip. Given my recent preoccupation with film, I haven’t gone on extended shoot with the digital “five-dizzle” in months, and I haven’t used the grip since last year’s Coachella. Compared to the rangefinders I’ve been shooting, going out with the gripped SLR feels like I’m taking photos with a barbecue grill. It reminds me a little bit of this, too. Yes, I needed some practice.

The North Hollywood sector of Los Angeles county is undergoing a remarkably fast rebirth as a hipster art district. That is, it wants to be. It’s a melting pot of serious community theaters, art galleries, countless new lofts and apartments, and general development — all centered around the fact that it’s the last stop on the L.A. Metro Red Line. The NoHo Arts District council is nothing if not enthusiastic about all of this and has launched Hear NoHo — a first Thursdays series of local music showcases dotted around the different businesses in the NoHo area. The first one was last night.

I tried to hit a bunch of the performances, ended up getting to see six local acts in some pretty unique locations. There’s a local theater, and then there’s the NoHo Arts Center. They’re currently running a production of Bram Stoker’s Dracula. In a stroke of brilliance, or maybe expedience, they put the rock band Carney right into Dracula’s living room — keeping the set intact. I saw a quirkyperky duo entertain the youth in a hip demo loft, an acoustic balladeer serenade the Pitfire Pizza patio crowd, funk and soul among high art, and an engaging songstress in a blacker-than-black empty theater set. And, it was all for free! The music was good and local and I got the chance to knock out some pretty standard concert shots. I got my spring workout in.

I’m really rooting for Hear NoHo to keep it going. It would be nice for it to grow and be the place to be on the first Thursday of every month. This debut was free to all comers, though the map and schedule I picked up on the way said it was only five dollars per venue. I guess that’s where they hope to be at some point. I’m skeptical how much local music people will shell out cash for. Maybe the neighborhood is passionate about all things local and will support it, but I’m also rooting for free.

Links:

Hear NoHo’s homepage
My Flickr photoset

* knock on wood-like surface

Noted in my Flickr mailbox:

Hi Mick,

I used one of your incredible Coachella shots on CBC Radio 3. (I climbed this guy at Burning Man!)

CBC Radio 3 is a “profit-free” division of the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation, which is not unlike your NPR.

radio3.cbc.ca/blogs/2009/02/Top-Canadian-Acts-Heading-For-Coachella

Hope that’s cool?

Yes, it’s very cool. Check the CBC site, it’s playing great music!

Original photo: