No Bad Religion song can make your life complete…but maybe Riot Fest with a best friend can.
Riot Fest Chicago.
“It’s not that I don’t like music,” I sometimes have to explain to people, “I’m just not a music person.”
You see, I’m just not a music person. I’m not someone who follows bands. Or could name who sang any song. Or even someone who has a favorite band.
And a lot of people don’t understand that. Because a lot of people are music people.
But I never have been. And I’m pretty sure I haven’t had a favorite band since New Kids on the Block in third grade. And if I want background noise at home I usually put on Food Network, not Spotify.
But that doesn’t mean I don’t like music. I like singing along in the car to whatever is on the radio. I like dancing to music at bars. I like going to concerts.
So, when I noticed one day that a bunch of my friends were buying tickets to Riot Fest, I kind of wanted to go too. Since I was kind of planning on going home in September anyways I figured it would be a great way to welcome myself back to the city.
And so, I bought a ticket.
And so, my first weekend back in Chicago was spent at the three day music festival and carnival. Between bands that I’d never heard of were some big names who gave some great shows: Bad Religion, Joan Jett, Blondie, The Pixies, Violent Femmes. And between all of those were circus acts.
And then there was a butter bust of John Stamos. Which really alone was worth the ticket price. Because, hello, Uncle Jesse in butter? Can I lick that please?