The other thing that frustrates me about the Pitchfork/Lolla comparison is the people that attend both, and how much they enjoy, or at least act like they enjoy, the show. The people that go to Pitchfork are people that read the stie regularly and listen to the music that’s discussed on the site (predominately under-the-radar indie rock). You don’t necessarily get the casual fan at Pitchfork. Which means you get a lot of very hip, perhaps overly self-conscious people who are at times a tad too jaded, and/or have too high of expectations for what a good musical performance is or isn’t. Therefore, they often times don’t look like they’re enjoying themselves at a concert at all. They just sort of stand there and look at the bands. I’m not gonna make some broad sweeping statement that the people that attend Pitchfork assume they’re hipper-than-thou because they know about bands that other people might know of (which is often what they are described as). In some of my friends’ eyes, I am one of these people. And I admit I often stand at concerts with my arms folded at my chest, probably looking bored out of my mind. I understand that people who really love music, and spend a great deal of time reading about, listening to and exploring new music, are likely to have high expectations for that music. And perhaps are more apt to be disappointed or at least not have their expectations met as easy as somebody who doesn’t. I too think about music in perhaps an overly critical way, and perhaps I don’t always have the ability to truly relax, let go, and enjoy myself at a concert. I get people who are like that. I really do.

But as a human being who also likes to have fun around other people, I must say that the crowd at Lollaplooza — while loaded with ex-frat boys, chatty, oft-annoying sorority girls, 35-year-old investment bankers and dudes that were only there to see Pearl Jam — as more enjoyable to spend three days with. Why? Because they allowed themselves to enjoy themselves. And they didn’t give a goddamn about the music snobs who sneered whenever they got bumped into. From my vantage point, the people that were really enjoying themselves at Lolla were some of the least cool-looking people there.

While discussing this phenomena with a friend, he pointed out to my why this is true. Many of the people at Lollapalooza had never even or heard of the bands they were viewing before. Bands such as LCD Soundsystem. They just stumbled across them while wandering about aimlessly, liked what they heard, and started dancing. They weren’t analyzing anything. They weren’t comparing the set they were currently seeing to the five previous ones from the same band. They weren’t thinking to myself, “Man, I wish I saw these guys after their first album came out,” or “man, these guys were so much better at the Empty Bottle five years ago.” They’re instincts were more primal; they liked what they heard and they reacted to it. That simple. I think there’s a certain beauty in that.

The conclusion I came to somewhere during the festival was this; it’s more fun to be at a concert with a person that knows very little about music who’s enjoying himself than to be at a concert with an overly critical hipster who’s not.

Lollapalooza, in a microcosm, perhaps represents the state of the music industry as it is today. For the most part, the music’s good. There are acts as creative as American music has ever been (bands like Spoon, TV on the Radio, My Morning Jacket, Modest Mouse). But everything’s commercial. Almost all bands, even the groundbreaking ones like Wilco, are used to sell products. It’s the reality of our existence today. Even the most original/creative/critically acclaimed acts sell out to some extent. But the is, this influx of commercialism hasn’t necessarily effected the music. Wilco’s Sky Blue Sky has gotten lots of rave reviews. Modest Mouse, a band that is in many way the archetypal indie rock band, released its third major label album this spring, and some are saying it’s their best work yet (though some, like myself, strongly disagree).

So here we have this Lollapalooza thing. There are advertisements everywhere (each stage has its own corporate sponsor). Tickets were pretty pricey at $195 (though, if you break it down by band, you wind up spending a couple hundreds bucks less than you would seeing them individually.) The “Cabanas,” or luxury suites, were a little over the top, but set off to the side of each main stage, they were far from imposing. At $5 a pop, beers were more than what you’d pay at most Chicago pubs, but pretty much on par with other street festivals and similar outdoor concerts.

But the music, teeming with some of the most brilliant music being made today; acts such as LCD Soundsystem, The Roots, Kings of Leon, Yeah, Yeah, Yeahs, Lupe Fiasco, the Black Keys — the music is as good as it’s ever been since I’ve been alive.

This festival gets a lot of shit from critics because of its corporate appeal, its expensive ticket price, its cabana hierarchy. But if you’re really there for the music, which is all that should really matter with a music festival, it’s a more than enjoyable experience. I spent upwards of 24 hours in three days at the thing, and left only wanting another day.

Reading the critics response (most annoyingly, Jim DeRogatis’), you’re led to believe that these advertisements were inescapable and that the rich Cabana-loungers flicked their cigar ashes on us proles down in the grass with pretentious glee. That wasn’t so much the case; I spent quite a bit of time looking up at those Cabanas and wondering what type of people it is that pay thousands of dollars for such a ridiculous idea, and honestly, it seemed that they were bought mostly by record industry or marketing companies associated with the fest that let their employees enjoy for a couple hours a day. The people in these cabanas weren’t the type of greaseballs in Italian suits I walk by at Rush and Division on my way home from work.

The thing is, I don’t like commercialism anymore than anybody else does. And I bet Perry Farrell still being affiliated with this behemoth has just as much to do with money as it does his love of music. But the bottom line is, as long as neither of those two things are actually affecting the way the music sounds, I don’t really give a damn. The stages could have been completely covered in AT&T ads, and if TV on the Radio still sounded like TV on the Radio, it wouldn’t have bothered me a bit. (In reality that ads on the stages were maybe five ft. by five ft. in size, and were barely noticeable.) Perry Farrell can talk as much about how he thinks this is the greatest show on earth, and that would should all be free of mind and eco-conscious (despite the fact we’re trashing a park and everything in the fest is sponsored), but as long as he gets off stage in time for Jim James to perform, I don’t care.

Without the corporate sponsorship (and even the expensive cabanas) the festival would have been even more expensive. Without that corporate sponsorship, they probably couldn’t have afforded Pearl Jam (and all of Eddie Vedder’s anti-corporate banter).

I realize, that as much as I may not like it, that the record industry has changed, and as expensive as it is to do things like put on a concert or a festival this size, corporate sponsorship is a necessity.

The indictment here shouldn’t be on the shoulders of festival organizers. Really, it should be on the concert promoters themselves. Do the math; To see just my seven of my favorite acts of the weekend independently would have cost me more than one ticket to Lollapalooza.

In Chicago, at least, Lolla is compared with it’s indie rival, the Pitchfork Music Festival, which takes place three weeks previous at Union Park west of downtown. Pitchfork is great. I love the indie ethos. I like the fact that three-day tickets are less than $50. I like the all-local vending. And, for the most part, I love the music. De La Soul, Mastodon, The Sea and Cake and Of Montreal were great. You want to root for the local guy, you wanna support the DIY ethic of Pitchfork. But if you asked for my honest opinion at which one I enjoyed myself more, I’d have to say Lollapalooza; even for the extra $150. Because the seven best bands at Lolla were better, in my opinion, than the seven best bands at Pitchfork.

Again, it’s all about the music.