Bisco

#1 KC GOES TO CAMP

By J.J. Colagrande
09_KC McGovern

I was going to Camp. Camp Bisco. And as a writer. A real paid writer. Can you believe it? Dickie should’ve seen me, the fucker. I might not have been making Merrill Lynch  money like him but at least I chased my dream and I wasn’t a momma’s boy. I didn’t give up, in fact… »

#2 KEITH’S SECRET E-MAIL TO SKY

By J.J. Colagrande

I’m on a plane, to Albany. I’m re-reading your e-mail. It’s on my Iphone 4. This gizmo is amazing, dude. I can read e-mails 18,000 feet in the air. KC convinced me to get it. She said I could use the navigation system. I do get lost a lot. Especially in New York City. You… »

#3 INDIAN LOOKOUT

By J.J. Colagrande

Bisco was beautiful. And not just physical beauty–rolling green hills, a wide open blue sky–it totally looked amazing at night–yeah, all of that, but the people were dope. And not dope in like a nodding-out, brain-dead kind of dope, but dope as in conscious and kind and young and vibrant and ready-to-rage Upstate NY summertime… »

#4 BABIES WITH PACIFIERS

By J.J. Colagrande

The plan was supposed to be simple. That alone sounded retarded. Duh. I should”ve known better. To plan. To devise or project the realization of. To plan, from the Latin planus–meaning level ground. Me? Level ground? Plan us, who, us plan? Yeah, right. Wrong. Landed in Albany. Check. Grabbed luggage and some of KC’s books…. »

#5 WOOKIE MAKEOVERS AND COLOR WARS

By J.J. Colagrande

I swear the people at Bisco were awesome. I mean, just brilliant. The intellect, creativity, and receptivity of Bisco heads felt crisper than a fully extended double rainbow. I was like so stoked. I couldn’t believe Shore Morris had the nerve to say Bisco heads were too druggie. I called Shore a few days earlier… »

#6 BEEZWAX

By J.J. Colagrande

If I didn’t drive by a Volkswagen so obviously heading to the fest (camping gear, music stickers and the dead give away: hippies) I would’ve been in more trouble. With navigation, I breathed a sigh of  relief and found a place to make a U-ey–some little side road in the middle-of-nowhere. You really have to… »

#7 STOLEN CORPORATION

By J.J. Colagrande

Time went by so fast. I spent so much of it looking for Keith but like it was totally time to see some music. What was I supposed to do? I had a job. And I called him repeatedly. His phone kept going to voicemail. I bet the ding-dong left his charger at home. Ay-yi-yi…. »

#8 O’ SISTER WHERE ART THOU?

By J.J. Colagrande

I entered the Lot at 8:30pm. They directed me to a parking area, on a hill–close to the Main Stage, between the Dance Tent and Local Stage. I was in a bit of a pickle because my phone died and I couldn’t contact KC to see where she set up her tent. I wasn’t too… »

#9 {{{BASSNECTAR}}}

By J.J. Colagrande

So I found a crew. And that was good, you know–who wanted to roll alone at a music festival? I wasn’t a  monk like those dudes walking around with the Gita book. I personally liked to surround myself with people at shows–I’ve always been like that. And it’s not because a girl needed protection. Some… »

#10 FRIDAY NIGHT LIGHTS

By J.J. Colagrande

My feet hurt. I had been walking everywhere. I trekked all the way down Shakedown to the very last tent. And then back again. Mind you I didn’t have a flashlight. I could see the lights coming from the main stage–which looked awesome, unless you happened to be a pilot in a plane, but I… »

#11 THE SILENT DISCO

By J.J. Colagrande

Oh my gawd–the silent disco rocked. Two deejays at the same time. My hip hop friends would’ve called it a battle (easy to say battle in deejay land) but this was just raw talent playing along side each other, literally all night long.  The concept, evolved from  Bonnaroo and perfected at Bisco, was simple. Two acts,… »

#12 THERE’S NO “I & I” IN TEAM PLAYER

By J.J. Colagrande

I was itchy like crazy. And swollen. Blame the stupid bee bite. It grew worse by the hour. It really fucking itched. I hoped I didn’t get anaphylaxis. Oh, please don’t let me have an anaphylactic reaction. Do you know the symptoms? They could kill you. Luckily, there was a first-aid clinic and they told… »

#13 THE WEATHER STARTED GETTING ROUGH, THE TINY SHIP WAS LOST . . .

By J.J. Colagrande

In the middle of the Brothers Past set the festival shut down. Just like that. They told us to go back to our cars. Rain. Pouring rain. And lightning. I liked it. hahaha. The rain tickled and sparkled–like little fairy tweets. hahaha. I loved it. I slid with the music and there was no music…. »

#14 A CRAW-PHISH E’TOUFFEE

By J.J. Colagrande

Um. Hmm. How do I explain this? Where do I start? I guess with how she looked. OK. Totally covered in mud. Like, the girl could have had craw-fish living in her ears. The mud was all over her legs, arms, clothes, face, hair. Everywhere. Like a Primus song, her name could’ve been Mud. There… »

#15 RIDE THE KING’S HIGHWAY, BABY

By J.J. Colagrande

I had a wonderful Camp Bisco. This music journalist gig tasted like cake. I could’ve written the review without showing up for the festival, to tell you the truth. But it boded well to roll up my sleeves and give it my best, even if I wasn’t writing for the New York Times, or Rolling… »