Recap : Lollapalooza 2013 Day 1 : Grant Park | Chicago, IL

Thursday: Arrival
After we pulled into Chicago Thursday afternoon, I headed up to Wicker Park to stash our vehicle (blue collar parking). I stopped into Big Star and of course, had an obligatory margarita before heading back downtown. We headed to the pre-event media check-in reception at Public and enjoyed a few complimentary greyhounds after we grabbed our credentials. We then headed to The Vic to see Hot Chip, an absolutely fantastic kickoff to Lollapalooza weekend. Bear Mountain opened up and had the crowd relatively well engaged, despite the fact that the venue was only half-full and everyone was clearly there to see the headliner. Having never seen Hot Chip, I knew I was in for a treat in terms of the music but did not know what to expect from their performance. Needless to say, this was an outstanding show from start to finish and the crowd never lost their enthusiasm. Impressed by the band’s musical talent as well as their ability to maintain an obscure, odd presence while absolutely jamming, Hot Chip is most definitely one of the better shows I’ve seen in the last few years. Seeing this intimate show at The Vic left us with a feeling that there was no way they could replicate that experience at Lolla the following evening. Regardless, we felt like we received a real treat getting to see the Thursday night show.

Friday: Day One
Thanks to the hotel Keurig, we were able to kickstart the day appropriately and get a little work done before heading into the festival. We walked swiftly with excitement down a hot and humid downtown so we could arrive right at the beginning and see The Neighbourhood on the Petrillo Stage. Experiencing virtually no wait to enter the gate, we walked in and headed straight to the stage to find a crowd already gathered for the show. Pusha T’s ‘Numbers On The Board’ came on the house system, the crowd responded with cheers, and a few minutes later The Neighbourhood took the stage. Lead singer Jesse Rutherford greeted the crowd with a quick “Chicago, what up!” and the band began an energetic set.

Saltlick's Lollapalooza 2013 Day 1 album on Photobucket

Photos by Rachel Rubenstein

Next we ventured across the park to the Lake Shore Stage to catch Robert DeLong. DeLong’s stage presence is highly charismatic and upbeat, as he does live vocals and percussion over self-produced beats that incorporate elements of various EDM styles. His trademark orange ‘X’ is placed on everything on the stage, including him. The crowd was getting a head start on the day as they danced to songs such as his hit single ‘Global Concepts.’
Up next was Keys N Krates at EDM-centric Perry’s Stage. A long intro slowly led up to a drop, cueing the mostly-underage crowd to break into a massive dance party with the sun intensely beaming down. The party had started and it was merely 1:00pm, and Keys N Krates led the young crowd through a series of remixes with a distinct hip hop style.
To prove that we don’t take ourselves too seriously, we trotted back to the Lake Shore Stage to see the bubbly Icona Pop. A large crowd swelled into the area surrounding the stage as the female duo took the stage, delivering the most poppy lyrics imaginable (after all, Pop is in their name). Caroline Hjelt and Aino Jawo have more fun in one hour than some people do in a year. The Swedish duo kept the crowd jumping throughout the set, and at one point spoke in between songs about their affinity for ‘making out’ while encouraging everyone to have as much fun as possible at Lollapalooza.

After a short break, Father John Misty took the stage with a totally unique style relative to the other bands on the bill today. Upon walking out on stage, he made a comment along the lines of “what is this dance music?” making a reference to Monsta who was currently playing in the distance on the Perry’s Stage. FJM’s countrified rock was a nice change, and the performance was stellar, complete with an assortment of dance moves. There was even an intimate session with a unicorn from the audience.

After the break, we headed around the corner to see Crystal Castles, a personal fave and indie girl crush of our photographer, Rachel Rubes. The band walked out onto a haze-filled stage, Alice gripping a bottle of Jameson in one hand and a cigarette in the other. She takes a ‘healthy swig’ of the Jamo and begins crawling towards the front of the stage, tossing the cigarette, crawling up the mic stand. When she reaches her feet, they erupt into ‘Plague’ from their latest release, ‘III’. It was difficult to decipher if the vocals were intentionally muffled or if there were issues with the sound, but their sound relies heavily on high levels of distortion, particularly in her vocals. Alice danced around constantly, appearing like an aerobics instructor on copious amounts of drugs. The crowd kept their hands up as she paraded around the stage and out into the crowd. After a mic malfunction, she threw it at the stage and hopped back up to continue the set. Now wearing muddy leggings from her crowd venture, she raises the bottle of Jameson again and takes another long pull, drawing a supportive response from the crowd. Alice, along with Father John Misty were clearly the most dramatic performers up to this point.

One of the more comical observations on the first day was all the younger folks sporting brand new shoes along with a look of surprise when they had to walk through mud anywhere there was not concrete. We took our muddy-feet back over to where we started the day to check out the eclectic Thievery Corporation. At this point it was obvious the crowd at Lollapalooza was growing rapidly, and we weaved through a sea of people to get there. They treated the crowd to their usual style set, incorporating elements of hip hop, trip hop, reggae and funk. At one point it sounded like the JBs with rude boys on the mic. I had not yet seen Thievery so it was great to get to catch them.

Facing dire straits with a phone battery at 8% (I simply could not get ahead of the curve on this), we turned around to the Bud Light Stage to see the highly anticipated Queens Of The Stone Age. The show started with a spacey intro that featured glass-breaking sound effects and other trippy sounds. The band wasted no time and immediately went into a blazing set of classics and new material. The crowd, who clearly represented the older faction at Lollapalooza, was most appreciative of the energy brought to the stage by QOTSA. “We’ve been waiting a long time to catch up with you,” the band commented.

A brief visit to the Perry’s Stage during Flux Pavilion was like going to a dubstep prom. We were the oldest people around by at least 10 years in most cases (more in my case) so we had to move on. Plus, we were dead set on getting a good spot to see Lana Del Rey. This was the one artist that was poorly placed—the Grove Stage was just too small for her, and it was uncomfortably packed. The female contingent screamed like it was Beatles concert in the 60’s when Lana took the stage. Her presence is quite magnificent, and she began her seduction of the crowd. After ‘Blue Jeans’ Lana asked for a cigarette, which one of her crew members provided. Due to bro-overload in the crowd, we left a few minutes before she finished so we could catch the last 30 minutes of Nine Inch Nails. After performing a series of hit songs that were absolutely shaking the roof (even though we were outdoors) the set ended abruptly with no audible ‘thank you’ or any other indication that it was over. We headed back to the hotel to recap the day and yes, charge our phones. Looking forward to Saturday!

-Recap by Ryan Hickey

MOKB@Roskilde : Day 4 : Dude, Where’s My Bike?

Hoping to capitalize on Day 3’s lessons, we showed up early on Day 4 with better shoes, a more positive attitude and a plan. Let’s face it, there was just too much music to possibly ingest, so not wanting to stuff ourselves on bread only to neglect the entree, we poured over the day’s schedule like generals preparing for a pre-dawn attack, trying to figure out how to win this war of musical attrition. After all, Roskilde 2013 was serving up krautronics for dinner.

Sadly, we failed miserably, per usual.

First stop was one of the smaller stages for American man of letters, Henry Rollins. Still disappointed that Hank’s musical years are behind him, we never fail to be impressed by the guy’s stamina with mic in his hand. The crowd was SRO, and with temperatures approaching a level at which one could comfortably bake blueberry muffins, this was going to be a challenge. Happily we survived the entire set, which typical to form, found him railing against racism and homophobia, while applauding world travel and (perhaps) eating rat livers.

Following Rollins’ well-received tirade, we sauntered over to the main stage to be reminded why we so dislike James Blake and his electronic snooze fests. Retreating, we made time over to see Southern stoner rawkers, The Sword. This four piece has been garnering more than a few accolades lately for their newest release, Apocryphon, but on this day it was all about big loud live guitars, much to the glee of the assembled sunburned masses. If you like your riffs big and your drums pummeling, make it a point to catch these guys next time they crash your town.

Caught 15 minutes of Azealia Banks‘ set. Like the EP, but she just doesn’t bring it live. I’ll never get those 15 minutes back.

Confident that James Blake had been removed from the stage, we made our way back and got good and situated for Black Rebel Motorcycle Club. Now, I have a strange relationship with this band. The first time I saw the cover of B.M.R.C., I was convinced that, here was a band I would certainly like. Unfortunately, the grooves within left me nonplussed. The pattern repeated itself with each successive BRMC release, and eventually I just wrote them off, so you can imagine my surprise that the trio really grabbed my by the short and curlies live. I’d love to be able to exactly chronicle their performance, but given the fact that I don’t know the names of any of their songs (remember? nonplussed), I’ll have to suffice by saying that they played very well and created a most pleasant din. Probably have to dig those records out again.

Having found a comfortable spot leaning against a barrier, we were more than happy to stick around for Queens of the Stone Age. …Like Clockwork has taken up residence in my work CD player, so I was eager to see what Josh Homme and friends (sadly, they didn’t pack Dave Grohl or Mark Lanegan) brought to the party. They came screeching out of the gate with the aptly-titled Feel Good Hit Of The Summer and didn’t let off the gas until the main stage crowd said uncle. The band literally melted the tastiest morsels from their impressive catalog, coming up for air only briefly for Homme to take up residence at the electric piano for a haunting reading of The Vampyre Of Time and Money before diving into the second half of their all-too-short set.

I had every intention of getting over to see one of my faves, Calexico, but I couldn’t tear myself away from QoTSA. Sorry Joey. Sorry John.

Once the festival staff finished sweeping up the cremains of the post-QoTSA main stage, there was nothing left to do but hang out and wait for Deutsch electronica pioneers, and one of my all-time heavyweights, Kraftwerk. I was lucky enough to see the hyper-sentient quartet five years ago in a suburban Twin Cities stripmall, which always struck me as more than a little odd, so I was happy as a clam to be checking them out at Roskilde. The fact that this was the worldwide debut of their 3-D stage show? Well, that was just the icing on the robotic cake.

If you’re not familiar with Kraftwerk, well, let’s just say that you either really love’em or you really hate’em, and despite the fact that I endlessly sing their praises, my ladyfriend continues to write them off as “four old guys standing behind keyboards.” Of course, there is some truth to that, but the setlist was phenomenal on this Scandinavian night. The Robot, Pocket Calculator, The Model, Autobahn; the “hits” just kept coming until audience members were either orgasmic or asleep. And as the last blips and bleeps of of 1983 dissolved into the Danish sky, I realized that Roskilde 2013, for me at least, was over.

Let me end by throwing some Roskilde numbers in your direction.

1 – Folks I saw tossed out of the festival
2 – Naked guys in the swimming lake
2.5 – Hours waiting in line to get in (sorry, I’m still crabby about it)
3 – Joints (that’s it?!)
4 – Members of Metallica
5 – Beers you can carry in one of these things
6 – People in furry animal suits
7 – US Dollars for a cup of ice cold Toborg
8 – Days of the festival
9 – Times I had to visit a P-Tree on Day 4
10 – Time Kraftwerk took the stage
195 – Shows
Too many to count – Smilers

Much love to the Roskilde 2013 staff and volunteers, and of course, our gracious Danish hosts.

MOKB@Roskilde : Day 3 (cont.) : The Hills are Alive…

Once the initial festival shock to the system passed, we were ready to get down to the order of the day: taking in some live music. Roskilde 2013 boosted at least five performance stages, and while other festivals boost genre-specific stages, the Roskilde promoters seem to derive sadistic pleasure from juxtaposing a jarring variety of acts on any given stage. But I’ll get back to that.

Before I get too deep into music, I want to talk about litter. I admit it, I am under the impression that everything is better in Europe. The people are healthier, the architecture more inspired, the beer stronger and the festivals more civilized. I fully expected the festival grounds to be littered with recycling receptacles and trash cans, but instead, I found it to be littered with, well, litter. Yes folks, the Danes can be just as lazy and slovenly as we Americans, tossing trash with little regard for either the environment or the volunteer army who will be working until September(!) to clean up this week long music experience. 2013 and MOKB is getting all Mythbusters on your ass.

Our first stop was a hip-hop barnstorming show that included Action Bronson, Joey Bada$$, Danny Brown and Flatbush Zombies. Always interesting to see how receptive foreign audiences are to American rappers, but the Danes were down with it, or at least as down as one can get at 3 in the afternoon in supernova-level sun.

Filled with flow, we made our way to the main stage (which was purchased at a U2 garage sale) for Kris Kristofferson’s set. Despite (or perhaps due to) his advanced age, Kristofferson remains a riveting performer, doling out wisdom and wit in 3-minute nuggets like so many Tic-Tacs. The voice was a little rough in places, but the setlist was all killer-no filler, including Billy Dee, Casey’s Last Ride, The Pilgrim (Hang On Hopper) and, of course, Me and Bobby McGee.

A word about Rosklide’s main stage. After a well-publicized incident a dozen years back, the festival planners have gone out of their way to make Roskilde as safe as Let’s Rock! Elmo. Nowhere is this more apparent than how the pits are managed on the main stage. For starters, there are two pits, each gated and the population of which are both closely governed. Pit-fanatics are required to queue in roped-off areas clearly labelled for each band, and at the designated time are allowed to orderly file into each pit. Once the primary pit is “full,” the secondary pit is opened. Once both pits are full, a large red stoplight is displayed, letting fans know to not even bother. Once the show ends, the pits are completely emptied and cleaned before fans of the next band are allowed to enter, thereby keeping people from attempting to monopolize the best positions all day. And guess what? It works.

Following Kristofferson was The National, whose new release, Trouble Will Find Me, hasn’t been out of my rotation since its release. This was my first time seeing The National, and I was a little concerned about seeing the gloom-rockers on a huge, sun-filled stage in heat typically reserved for a kiln. Well, I’m happy to say that they delivered big time. Their lineup, bolstered by a trombonist and a trumpeter, mined the most precious jewels from Trouble Will Find Me, High Violet and Boxer. Live, these guys rocked a lot harder than I ever would’ve believed, bathing their numbers in a sheen of feedback and random noise. Frontman Matt Berninger has to rank as one of the most volatile performers on the circuit today, exorcising his demons with some good old-fashioned primal scream therapy. Can’t wait to see them inside and in the dark later this summer on their US tour.

After The National’s powerhouse performance, we made our way across the festival grounds to check out Norwegian scuzz rockers, Kvelertak. Previous to this show, all I knew about this sextet was that Dave Grohl was a fan and actually asked them to open several shows on the last Foo Fighters tour. Dave Grohl rarely steers me wrong, and this was no exception. Kvelertak tore it up with a tasty brew that was too fast for stoners, too chaotic for sticklers and too heavy for God. Check these guys out starting with their newest release, Meir.

We were still toweling off the sweat when we made it back to the main stage to get into position for Metallica. Now, when the original Roskilde lineup was released, Metallica was nowhere to be found on it. Then, a few weeks prior to the festival, the announcement was made, putting The National in a support slot and setting off a ticket rush that registered at least a 4.2 on the seismic scale. (And if you’re keeping track, the main stage lineup for the day was Kristofferson, The National and Metallica, and it’s very possible that I am one of six people at the festival who enjoyed all three.)

What can one really say about Metallica that hasn’t already been put on one of their ubiquitous T-shirts? Loud? Yes. Fast? Yes. Heavy? Hells yes! The band has reportedly been working on a new record, and they took full advantage of this diversion, turning in a loose, almost playful set of relatively deep tracks that sent the Danes into a tizzy. James Hetfield looked healthy and individual performances were all first rate, but the night belonged to drummer Lars Ulrich. The Roskilde faithful went nuts each time Ulrich, a Dane, appeared on the video screens and each of his drum workouts served to work the assembled masses into an even frothier frenzy. How popular is Lars Ulrich in his homeland? Let’s just say if Metallica decides to call it a day after their next long-player, Helle Thorning-Schmidt might find herself on the dole.

And then we tapped out. Tired, sunburned and deaf, there was absolutely no chance I was going to make it to Chelsea Light Moving (sorry Thurston) or Sigur Rós. Ears still ringing and covered in dust, we trudged back to the train station and fought our way onboard for a return trip that was significantly quieter than the previous voyage.

But there’s always tomorrow…

MOKB@Roskilde : Day 3 : A Long Day’s Journey

The theme of 2013 Roskilde Festival is Music Changes Us, but I might suggest a more apt theme, Drink Water, Make Water, given the attention paid to those two pursuits. More about that later.

Our adventure starts on day 3 of the festival. Day 3!? Yeah, well, things happen and it seems that MOKB is not immune to the temptations of Germany. Berlin in particular. So we missed Day 1 and Day 2 of the festival. But missing Rhianna for a chance to hang out in Berlin an extra day was a decent tradeoff.

After a short train ride from Copenhagen to the historic town of Roskilde, we boarded a festival transport train. We also had the option of taking a transport bus, but really, given the choice, the train is always better, particularly when one has the option of a “quiet car.” No sense burning out the old ears on inane cell phone conversations and whooping before I even get to the festival. Regardless of your choice, the transportation infrastructure was first rate, especially when one considers that beer could be freely consumed regardless of whether you opted for road or rails.

That commute was followed by, for me at least, the low point of the festival: a delightful two-and-a-half hour wait in the blazing sun to get into the festival grounds – even though we already had tickets. Read that again. This festival faux pas could be traced directly to the fact that their were no clear lines and three, count’em, three frazzled Danes taking tickets. Bad, bad plan, only slightly mitigated by the fact that I aspired to befriend every Dane with a cooler in tow. (Note to would-be Roskilde patrons: BYOB).

A quick note about the festival’s backstage area. It was a cash- and credit-free zone. To partake in food and/or beer, residents created an online bank account that was interfaced with a wristband containing a computer chip. Scan your wrist, get a beer. Scan it again and get Thai noodles. Very slick, even if a little dangerous for folks who experience difficulty in monitoring and limiting their consumption.

Once our bellies were full and livers reawakened, we packed a kitbag and waded into the actual festival grounds. Calling the area that made up Roskilde 2013 “grounds” hardly does it justice. The festival takes up roughly the same amount of real estate as a rural county in Indiana; at least 1600 square km (sorry, I don’t know how many miles that is). It’s big enough to include a lake for swimming and fishing. If it was in America (which it never could be) it would have a mayor and a meth problem. The sheer number of tents alone made it look like military bivouac. In addition, this plot of terra firma offered festivalgoers all of the comforts of home including a post office, a pharmacy and an H&M, because you never know when you’re going to have the need for a cute, poorly-made top.

Sadly, I never could get an exact number of tickets sold for Roskilde 2013, but safe to say that there were homo sapiens as far as the eye could see. On Day 3, the attendance was at least 100,000 people (sorry, I have no idea how many Americans that is) And not just your usual festival types. Sportos, motorheads, geeks, sluts, bloods, wastoids, dweebies, dickheads, I saw them all. I saw large families and lone wolves. I saw young and old, including one gaggle of elderly matrons who looked as if their casino bus was hijacked. If you didn’t know Metallica was playing, you’d swear you were at an ice cream social in the midst of the 19th century fin de siècle.

And what do all of these demographics have in common? They all deal in water, both input and output. Of course, beer contains a fair amount of water, but a better source of water is, well, water. And it was everywhere. And rather than rape festivalgoers for precious bottles of the stuff, many of the volunteers (all 32,000 of them) were tasked with handing out H20 pro bono. Seems like every 10 meters you ran into another orange-vested do-gooder foisting a cup of it on you, and they only got more aggressive once you made it to one of the performance stages. And even more aggressive in the pits.

Of course, when you’re drinking all this water (and its cousin, beer), what goes in, must come out. I’m sure everyone has festival horror stories about waiting in line for a filthy biffy only to regret entering that chamber of horrors. Not surprisingly, that (and laziness) is why people (boys and girls) piss outside. Anticipating this, the Roskilde 2013’s big cheeses employed two ingenious strategies to alleviate the hothouse outhouse horror.

The first, I came to affectionately refer to as “the time machine.” As you can see, this temporary toilet allows four gentlemen to simultaneously fulfill their need for release in the fresh air, while preventing them from missing anything. Your second option was the P-Tree, an unobtrusive device that encourages the age-old tradition of pissing on our friends, the trees. Hang a couple of these orange Lomax-infuriators and you literally have a whiz-friendly forest.

And did I mention there was music at this thing?

Concert : Green Day : Refshaleøen, Copenhagen, Denmark

MOKB is heading to the 2013 Roskilde Festival, one of Europe’s largest festivals and purportedly, one helluva party. Of course, once back in the Old Country, one must take advantage of the opportunities offered, whether they be local legends, brews or music. Hence my ladyfriend and I found ourselves for one night, not eating any of a multitude of varieties of herring, but rather, ingesting Billie Joe Armstrong and crew in lovely Copenhagen. For lack of a better description, let’s call it an appetizer to the entree that is Roskilde.

It didn’t take long to discover that part of the fun of a European concert is just getting to the damn thing. A bus, a ferry and a short trudge over what appeared to be a goat path were enjoyed before we came to the venue known affectionately as Refshaleøen, an abandoned industrial cocktail of concrete and rebar that previously hosted the notorious CopenHell metal fest. Imagine seeing a concert at a dilapidated Hormel factory and you’ll have an adequate understanding of the evening’s context.

The opening act was All Time Low. OK, not a terrible band, but certainly not worth an eight hour transAtlantic flight.

Green Day took the stage right on time, a major victory in my mind because I am constantly haunted by the misconception that I have someplace else to be. A word about Green Day and their surprising (some might say misdirected) 15 minutes in this blog. I frankly used to hate this band. I saw them waaaaaayyyyy back in the day, and was nonplussed. I was an expatriate when they started to break, and, as a fella old enough to be Billy Joe Armstrong’s older brother, the multi-platinum Dookie stuck me as little more than a second rate rehash of firstwave punk, slathered with enough pop sheen to send soccer moms spinning off on a Manic Panic bender.

But somewhere along the way, perhaps inadvertently, Green Day became Generation Y’s answer to The Who. Concept records, overblown overtures and struggles between good and evil (or at least the ennui of everyday life) became their three-chord calling card. Green Day, in effect, grew up right in front of our eyes, trading two and a half minute tantrums for grand, some might say pretentious, musical aspirations. American Idiot was a warning shot over the bow, and while 20th Century Breakdown didn’t pack quite the punch of its predecessor, both are embarrassingly strong records. It’s all enough to make me wonder if the recent Uno!, Dos!, Tre! trifecta isn’t what Mick and Joe were aiming for with Sandinista!.

But can they still cut it live, this band that I first encountered playing to lifeboat capacity audiences at St. Paul’s old Steamboat Gallery/Motor Oil Industrial Coffee? And what of Billie Joe’s much publicized (at least in the music community) chemical dependency treatment?

Well folks, I’m here to tell you that Green Day are alive and well; perhaps one of thee most virile bands on the circuit today. Now a five piece, the band’s sound is fat as your unwitting prom date, and twice as foul-mouthed. Perhaps I had forgotten (or discounted) the band’s impressive back catalog, but I seemingly knew every song like the back of my hand. After opening with the anthemic 99 Revolutions, the boys mined their impressive back catalog, plucking familiar jewels Jesus of Suburbia, Basket Case, Longview, When I Come Around that worked the locals into a hot lather before triumphantly returning to new material like X Kid, which crackled with the energy of a shorted circuit breaker in your parent’s basement.

Of course there was an occasional detour. Armstrong donned a saxophone for a well-intentioned, but ill-advised workout, and the band bravely soldiered through a medley that included You Make Me Wanna Shout!, which seemed to leave the locals somewhat puzzled. Either that or no one was in the mood to “Get a little bit softer now.”

Perhaps most shocking was the number of songs the band left on the alter. Chestnuts like Good Riddance (The Time of Your Life) failed to rear their ugly heads, while surefire crowdpleasers like Kill The DJ failed to materialize, truly a testament to the impressive body of work this little band that could has put together while no one was listening.

Bottom line: I have no major gripes with my Green Day experience in Copenhagen. Sure, I would have preferred a tastier opener, but that’s really just me being, well, me. And when Billie Joe implored the audience for the millionth time to “Go crazy,” well, I very nearly did. And then I thought better of it seeing as how it was going to take me two hours to get back to the hotel.

MOKB@Roskilde : Something is Rocking in the State of Denmark

That’s right, Mom. MOKB is packing an ol’kit bag and heading off to Roskilde 2013. What to expect is anyone’s guess, but given the list of bands (see poster), how can it be anything short of superfantastic?

Our goal? Avoid the pitfalls (mud, cholera, long bathroom lines) and temptations (local brews, local fare, half-naked Danes) long enough to cover as many acts as possible, interview a few famous (and not-yet famous) folks and even provide a little cultural commentary about our gracious hosts and their beloved homeland.

Stay tuned as MOKB gets all Hamlet on yo ass…

[WIN THIS!] : Two Tickets to see Grizzly Bear in Louisville, KY : April 1st

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We love giving away free stuff to our readers, so when we found out that Grizzly Bear was going to be doing a show our old stomping grounds of Louisville, KY, we knew we had to get a hold of a couple tickets to give away. In addition to Grizzly Bear, the always great Owen Pallett will be handling opening duties. To enter, all you need to do is “like” MOKB on Facebook and follow us on Twitter. After doing this, just give us a shout on Twitter with the hashtag #grizzlybearlouisville. We will select a winner on Friday, March 29th. If you don’t want to leave your the tickets to chance, you can purchase them here.

[Win This!] : Two Tickets to see Sigur Rós at Madison Square Garden

Quite a few years back, wanderlust and general distaste for responsibility found me traipsing through Iceland. I had a great time exploring the island nation, its rugged coastline, seemingly eternal darkness (winter in Iceland is not for the seasonally affected) and Reykjavík’s too cool for words clubs (as long as one remembered not to show up before midnight).

Years later, the thing I remember most about my Icelandic pilgrimage is an incident involving the Blue Lagoon, a flybussen full of German tourists and a rented Speedo.

Now the other thing I remember well (and the one that will not haunt me upon my deathbed) was discovering Sigur Rós. And it wasn’t a subtle thing. I literally saw the cover image of Ágætis Byrjun everywhere. Everywhere. And so finally my curiosity got the best of me, and I’ve been a fan ever since.

Seeing Sigur Rós live is difficult to describe. Actually, it’s pert near impossible. And that’s where we come in. Sigur Rós just so happens to be hovering over North America for the next couple weeks in support of their latest, Valtari. See what I’m getting at here?

MOKB/Sigur Rós at Madison Square Garden Giveaway: Just in time for Spring, one fortunate MOKB reader is going to score two (2) tickets to see Sigur Rós performing at the world’s most famous arena. Just the tickets mind you, but how cool is that? Airfare is out of the question. Whatta we look like, Pitchfork? The winner will be able to pick up his/her spoils in advance at the Bowery Presents office. To get yer butt in the running, click the Comment link and enter your name and email address. But do it by Friday, March 22nd. All entrants will be tossed in a hat and the winner will be chosen at random. Oh, and don’t forget to follow MOKB on Facebook and Twitter!

And for all of youse in the New York area who don’t like things like this left to chance, get your tickets here.

Sigur Rós on Tour
Mar 24 – Fairfax, VA
Mar 25 – New York, NY
Mar 26 – Boston, MA
Mar 27 – Montreal, QC
Mar 29 – Ottawa, ON
Mar 30 – Toronto, ON
Apr 1 – Detroit, MI
Apr 2 – Chicago, IL
Apr 3 – St. Paul, MN
Apr 4 -Kansas City, MO