That’s Stella

Phew! The Big Day Out has come and gone and I am not baring any bruises, sunburn or damage to my bank balance. The past few days have been agony, tossing around the idea of braving the Big Day Out and contemplating how much I really wanted to go. Well, conclusion is, I didn’t want to go all that much. Usually at this time of the year, I’m taunting my Perth friends with tales of seeing top bands playing 15 minutes away from home in New York.
This year… I had to suck it up. It serves me right.

There are too many reasons why I refuse to go to the BDO. A few include:
1. Being vertically challenged, I really don’t get to see the bands I want to see. In fact, I don’t get to see ANY band. I’m paying to see heads and backs. Yes, it is true, sometimes it does suck being short.
2. The cost - $100+ just to HEAR bands? I think not.
3. The crowds - so not worth it
4. The sun - impossible to enjoy an outdoor festival when the sun is searing and the temperatures are nearing 40C.

Anyway I’m happy with my decision. The only bands I really wanted to see were Kings of Leon, The Go! Team and Iggy Pop and realistically even if I went, I wouldn’t have seen them anyhoo.

Last night (the night before the BDO) my friends and I had a few drinks with some of the bands playing at the BDO. However, the whole night Sazz and I were on a look out for Iggy Pop, praying that he would stumble by us and spill a drink and it’d be enough to cause some conversation. But when the night started getting a little exciting we made a pact that if we saw Pop, we wouldn’t talk to him.

We decided that if we did meet him and we were sorely disappointed, it might ruin our perceptions of the man and could drive us to the brink of burning his cds and other violent hate campaigns.
Frankly, I love his music way too much to discover that he’s some prick. I know that he’s meant to be some nice guy, but I’m a hard girl to please.

Not meaning to brag (except that I am going to to prove my point), when you’ve had bands sing a love song for you on stage in front of hundreds of people or you’ve had your rock star crush give you a big smooch or got wasted with your favourite group or had a famous band drive you home after their show, it kinda heightens ones expectations.

So I figure realistically, the only way I’ll be satisfied with an encounter with Iggy Pop is if he was so charmed by me that he begged me to take him on a road trip and allowed me to play Lust For Life on repeat till we hit our secluded destination or if he offered himself to me or if he rolled around naked in peanut butter and we had a jello wrestling match after. Oh boy am I going to have sweet dreams tonight!

I can’t explain it, but despite his cocaine face, there is something so attractive about the man.