As almost all who wander towards this blog from time to time know,
Crimespree tries to be about the mystery. Written, filmed, cozy,
hard-boiled, business, and loved.
Ruth (me) and Jon Jordan (my own personal fireworks) will often be
found arguing the merits of ska, prog rock, and which albums really are
the keepers of the seventies. We often binge on long forgotten loves
(David Bowie being my latest constant rotation) and are constantly
listening for new music. As I get older I get further from the
head-banger I used to be but music, it is a part of every day in our
With that brief intro I bring to you the annual Summerfest post. This
year Summerfest didn’t offer up a cornucopia for the Jordan
household. 40th Anniversary or not the acts were not as plentiful but
our first tickets we bought earlier than ever before. Roger Waters was
coming to town and bringing The Dark Side of the Moon with him.
Many friends were flummoxed at this choice but no one who was an
American teen in the 70s and 80s questioned this decision and so with
Brother and Sister in tow we made our way down to the Milwaukee
Lakefront and our annual tradition of standing too many hours, eating
too much fried food, and fighting the masses.
It was a brilliant show. The rain refused to come as 23,000 people
waited for the stage to erupt in a tsunami of 70s nostalgia. I saw
friends’ parents and grandchildren. Roger Waters came to the mike
and began a three hour salute to the band that made his name and the
fans of their music. The music was flawlessly performed, we were
carried on a wave of songs that spoke to us even after twenty, thirty,
Tears were shed (Roger ”Syd” Barrett’s youthful mug staring down at
us as Shine On You Crazy Diamond was performed). Vocal chords
were threatened (every audience member became a back up singer
for such favorites as Money and Comfortably Numb) and we rode the
wave of people sharing a common experience.
The pig flew over Milwaukee with Impeach Bush tattooed to his ass,
and Waters introduced a new tune decrying the impersonalization of
Arabs as a people in both the U.S. and U.K. on the day of yet another
terrorist threat. And there were cheers.
As our local rock reviewer said in his critique the next day,
“Unfortunately, we live in times that suit the paranoid, apocalyptic tone
of Water’s politics.”
And so it is. On the 4th of July, as America celebrates with
hamburgers, potato salad, and fireworks the death toll in Iraq moves
up. 3,500 hundred American Soldiers, 1,000 “private contractors”,
and last month alone, 35,000 Iraqi civilians. It’s a high price to pay for
a flawed agenda. Republican or Democrat, no candidate for our
highest office has a plan, much less a mandate on how to make this go
away. As Madame Hillary brings out Bill in Iowa, she still refuses to
accept any responsibility in the mess, and our administration still insists
there were WOMD. The consequences of 9/11 continue to multiply....
But for those three hours Water’s played to the people who remember
the halcyon days when he and Gilmour were together and in their
music and lyrics we found the right to question authority as well as the
possibility of creating a solution.
The music is great and the epitaph phenomenal. May we find the
strength America. Thank you Pink Floyd. Rest in peace Syd.
Another Brick in the Wall.