Wednesday, May 04, 2005
Abandoning Indians in the Mohabi can only lead to trouble...
Mildred,
I know you said not to mention it if I was checking out Wilco or My Morning Jacket, but I can’t resist after what happened 10 days ago.
Long story short, I saw both bands together in Coachella California. The Coachella area is just deep enough into the Desert to be considered wilderness, and close enough to LA to warrant a 4 hour car ride into the South East interior of the state. An offshoot of highway 111, Coachella (along with Mecca and Thermal) is actually an extension of Palm Springs. In ten years, there will be a large wind powered swimming pool connecting the two towns. Anyhow, that was the setting and it wasn't the infamous Coachella Music Festival. Wilco and My Morning Jacket were playing in Coachella's downtown square at 5AM to migrant and Indian farmers waiting to be picked up to go work in the Fruit and Vegetable orchards that spread across the Inland Empire into much of Riverside county. Presumably these rock star thought it would be a noble gesture to blare their Marshall stacks before sunrise. Needless to say with any noise at 5AM, the Indians (not to mention the rest of the reservation) were pissed. Realizing they had pissed off actual Native Americans in the desert, My Morning Jacket started to cry (the entire band!).
Wilco was less forgiving. After their third song (this was 5:30 in the AM mind you), the natives got restless and demanded be taken to the nearest liquor store and proceed to the Trump Casino or torch the whole thing.. Wilco gave in, emptied out all their equipment and proceeded to cram everyone like sardines into the roadie van. They sped into the desert and I never saw them again.
I had other important business to attend to and quickly forgot about the entire incident until two night ago when local TV news flashed a story about Native Americans discovered by border patrol in the middle of the Mohabi Desert . One witness claimed to have survived on chewing tobacco and Capri Sun Juice packs for 9 days. Pretty amazing.
I’m sure you’re wondering what the hell I was doing out there in the first place. All I can tell you is that is was a complete coincidence. My pilgrimage to Coachella that particular morning involved large quantities of Sudafed, stolen IPODS from a Circuit City in Banning, and a Phillipino with blonde highlights named Rosa.
Word to the wise, if you’re thinking about a positive PR move, don’t abandon Indians in the Mohabi Desert. It only leads to trouble.
Anyhow, hope you are well. Keep me posted on stuff…
Cash Frock..
I know you said not to mention it if I was checking out Wilco or My Morning Jacket, but I can’t resist after what happened 10 days ago.
Long story short, I saw both bands together in Coachella California. The Coachella area is just deep enough into the Desert to be considered wilderness, and close enough to LA to warrant a 4 hour car ride into the South East interior of the state. An offshoot of highway 111, Coachella (along with Mecca and Thermal) is actually an extension of Palm Springs. In ten years, there will be a large wind powered swimming pool connecting the two towns. Anyhow, that was the setting and it wasn't the infamous Coachella Music Festival. Wilco and My Morning Jacket were playing in Coachella's downtown square at 5AM to migrant and Indian farmers waiting to be picked up to go work in the Fruit and Vegetable orchards that spread across the Inland Empire into much of Riverside county. Presumably these rock star thought it would be a noble gesture to blare their Marshall stacks before sunrise. Needless to say with any noise at 5AM, the Indians (not to mention the rest of the reservation) were pissed. Realizing they had pissed off actual Native Americans in the desert, My Morning Jacket started to cry (the entire band!).
Wilco was less forgiving. After their third song (this was 5:30 in the AM mind you), the natives got restless and demanded be taken to the nearest liquor store and proceed to the Trump Casino or torch the whole thing.. Wilco gave in, emptied out all their equipment and proceeded to cram everyone like sardines into the roadie van. They sped into the desert and I never saw them again.
I had other important business to attend to and quickly forgot about the entire incident until two night ago when local TV news flashed a story about Native Americans discovered by border patrol in the middle of the Mohabi Desert . One witness claimed to have survived on chewing tobacco and Capri Sun Juice packs for 9 days. Pretty amazing.
I’m sure you’re wondering what the hell I was doing out there in the first place. All I can tell you is that is was a complete coincidence. My pilgrimage to Coachella that particular morning involved large quantities of Sudafed, stolen IPODS from a Circuit City in Banning, and a Phillipino with blonde highlights named Rosa.
Word to the wise, if you’re thinking about a positive PR move, don’t abandon Indians in the Mohabi Desert. It only leads to trouble.
Anyhow, hope you are well. Keep me posted on stuff…
Cash Frock..
# posted by DH @ 8:39 AM 
