Sure, Coachella 2009 kicked off a week ago today but we here at LIAS have been busy, in case you haven’t noticed. Anyway, another epic weekend has blown by us again with a flash of desert heat and a searing blast of sonic noize, and all that remains are the pixels in our camera chips, the embed codes of YouTube video uplinks and the eye-twinkling memories that you will one day tell your grandchildren…if you want them to know what kind of depraved, debaucherous scoundrel you once were, that is.

The Madman had to work his ass off this Coachella, however, so he unfortunately missed much of the early and mid-afternoon music running around backstage trying to coddle whatever PR person was next on his photoshoot list, but suffice to say he got out enough to plum about a million moments that he wish he could relive into the Big Black Void. But instead of one massive recap, we’ll just surmise it all with 5 Deep Coachella Thoughts of 2009 and three gallery stockpile of images — supplied by our power-duo photog wunderkinds Kevin Hannon and Joyce Cadena…thanks kids!!!

Check out Madman Mundt’s 5 Coachella Thoughts of 2009, the magic of the Naked Wizard, and more after the Jump!

3 galleries of pics below: MIA, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Perry Ferrell, TRV$/DJ AM, Roni Size, Bloody Beetroots and Beirut

all images by Kevin Hannon and Joyce Cadena

5 Deep Coachella Thoughts of 2009

5. Why do people always complain about Coachella?

It seems inevitable that every year, people complain about how Coachella was fun, but it just wasn’t as good as last year. Really? Really? Ok look, there’s such hype surrounding the epic mid-spring weekend that it’s almost impossible to live up to. You think 3 days of well curated music, 3 days of nonstop pools, parties and random festivities, and 3 days of carefree shenanigans and you’re gonna expect a Lotto payoff. Add to that the fact that past experiences gain a veneer of beauty and epicness as time removes, and one inevitably thinks that the older line-ups were better, the performances were better, the Spicy Pies tasted better, the sky was better, etc. Bullshit.

4. Coachella was better in previous years.

Ok, maybe its true: Coachella has seen better years. Or maybe it was cos I was working half the time, but still. Maybe I’m just getting old.

3. Do we have the right to get naked in public? Or is the Naked Wizard just taking things too far?

I feel for the Naked Wizard. I mean, on one hand the guy was well warned and repeatedly told to put his clothes on. At first, the cops seem even amused by the Wiz’s antics and tiny, comedic genitalia. But when he keeps throwing his feather boa and rainbow robe back at the cops (I can’t believe I just typed that sentence), I think to myself: “Self, I do done believe the Wizard is about to receive a strong-worded message from the business end of a Tazer.” And lo and behold, not 30 seconds after he gets tackled to the ground, our poor Wizard receives an electric shellacking the likes of which usually only inner-city youths experience. Tzaaarraaap! So I’m thinking maybe a festival is not the best time to have an open forum debate on the ridiculously puritanical and hypocritical mentality of America’s legal and social regime, especially with brainless extensions of said system. But then again, as I watch the Naked Wizard’s head get slammed to the ground and kneeled on, all for simply sharing his infant-like dong with the general Coachella populace, I think maybe this is exactly the place to have such a discussion. Of course, it ain’t gonna be me holding the debate with 3 Oakley-wearing bullies from the Inland Empire. I mean I definitley don’t hate cops — they got a tough job — but when you gotta beat up a dude holstering a BB gun smaller than a cocktail weenie than maybe you need to rethink your employment situation.

Naked Wizard Tased By Reality from Tracy Anderson on Vimeo.

2. Will the real MIA please stand up?

In the history of Coachella, I’ve never seen an act more polarizing than our dear Maya Arulpragasam. Man, again kids wanna hate. After her 2008 performance, I can’t say she was at her best. First off, last year Diplo’s old partner in Hollertronix, Low Budget, didn’t help things out with his nonstop gunshot accompaniment. Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Every time MIA tried to get a word in, he was pushing that damn gunshot sample like a 12-year old mashing his Street Fighter controller (hey Low B, there’s no super combo that’s gonna get you outta DJing). Shit was a-nnoying. Then there was the fact that the tent was so fucking crowded, you couldn’t get within 50 feet of any side of it without battling your way through a heavy throng of sweaty, slick, unbathed hipsters. If you were unlucky enough to already be inside, it was so hot and muggy kids were passing out from dehydration. It made the noonday desert sun seem like a pleasant spring breeze by comparison. But on top of all that, MIA just seemed distracted. Removed from her performance. Sure, she defly looked the part in neon blue hair and newfound stage bravado, but there’s a term for her unenergetic performance that night: lackluster.

So it’s weird that in 2009, MIA spent half her show saying how much she disliked the Main Stage and how she couldn’t wait to get back to the tents next year. Hmmm… is that a cleverly veiled allusion to Maya’s desire to return to her underground roots, her more organic Coachella beginnings? Or is homegirl simply complaining? I mean, its not like her last tent performance was so good she couldn’t wait to return — her 2008 performance was panned on every music forum from .com to .tv. Even so Maya – suck it up! Be happy you’re on the Main Stage, peak hour on Saturday night! I don’t wanna hear your fucking thoughts about how the Main Stage sucks, I wanna see you level the fucking festival on its ass with a gun-cocked attitude and swagger that we know you can deliver. Who cares if the sound isn’t great?! It ain’t the London Philharmonic — throw on your day-glo wig and glasses, get your ass on top of the monitor and remind everyone of that first show at Coachella half a decade before where you were so wicked, the crowd screamed and screamed and screamed to get an encore. Not one of those fake, Ok you know I’m coming back in 2 minutes encores, but one of those, Ok, I’m already offstage but people are yelling so loud I gotta get back and do one more song encores. And what happened after you came back on and did that encore? You got off the stage and the roadies started taking apart Diplo’s turntables. And still, the crowd demanded more. People were chanting so loud, you reconvened with an awestruck Diplo backstage and discussed if you even had another song to play. And then, you told the roadies to reassemble the tables, you climbed back onstage, the place erupted like Vesuvius, and your passionate love affair with Coachella began in a sweaty, sloppy mess that no one there will ever forget. And we loved you for it. So next time, forget the fact that the sound isn’t great, and forget about the lights not being exactly how you want it, and remember that young wide-eyed neophyte who had swagger way before TI sampled her and just do your fucking thing…

..aaaaaand…someone got like ridiculously lucky filming this little clip of Maya doing her best to disappoint herself and apparently tens of thousands of fans…

1. Who knew there could actually be too much of a Beatle?

When looking over this year’s line-up, it seemed surprisingly low on Must-Sees — things like long-gone bands reuniting for one time only, artists I’ve anxiously awaited to see but hadn’t, inevitable trainwrecks in the making…once Winehouse made her imminent bow-out, that is. The only act on the 3-day bill I was unquestionably, unrelentlessly, palpably excited to see was Sir Paul McCartney. My lord, I was gonna see a goddamned Beatle. See, the Madman grew up in a house drenched in the Beatles. All my pops listened to was college jazz stations, The Wall and everything in the Beatles catalog post-Revolver. The Beatles weren’t just a part of my childhood, they were engrained in my childhood — actual fibers of joy woven in with daily experience that constituted the fabric of my life. Like Robotech, playing guns in the woods, going through my uncle’s Playboy stash, manhunt and Miami Vice , my life would not be the same without them. So it was with a fluttering heart that I ran to the Main Stage on that Friday night to await the entrance of Beatle #2…and then, there he was. A giddy calm descended over me, and I awaited what was coming. Unfortunately, what came for the first 45 minutes was mostly solo stuff and his work with Wings which, sadly, I can’t say I care that much about (there was also “Got to Get You Into My Life” from Revolver, but not one of my faves).

Then finally, after about an hour the opening notes of “Blackbird” began to play, and my heart soared. Finally, here we were! One of the simplest, sweetest, most gentle tracks in the Beatles oeuvre and I felt like a castrated hippy I felt so gay (gay as in happy and the other sense, too). I rolled on top of my Imaginary Girlfriend in pure joy and started singing the words in her eary…awwwwwe… gay, I know. But then…? A bunch of songs I didn’t care for. Then? “Eleanor Rigby”, again one of the Beatles finest, but also one of the most melancholy tracks of all time. Then…? Another bunch of songs I didn’t care for. Then? “A Day In the Life”…long story short, the first 1.5 hours were too inconsistent, too jerky. Every time I got super amped and ready to get on a roll, Sir Paul would follow it up with 3-4 songs for only the most hardcore fans (I mean, “Calico Skies”, really?).

By the time he closed his set off with “Let It Be”, “Live and Let Die” and “Hey Jude”, I was so exhausted from the adrenalin yanking (not to mention lazer-like heat, copious booze imbibement and litany of other intoxicants) that I was truly ready to go home, happy and tired. Only, McCartney insisted on playing two more encores…with nine more songs. There was just no way I was going to leave early — oh no — so I stayed another hour while he jammed through some epic tunes. The only problem was, by then, I was so utterly drained that after every track I actually secretly wanted it to end. I was witnessing a Beatle — the first and probably only time I will ever see a Beatle perform — and I actually wished for him to get off stage. And that’s never a good sign. Yes, he sounded great, and yes I am stoked I was there to witness it, but in the end it all just seemed too much, too late. And that kind of set the tone for the rest of the weekend, where very little seemed to pay off like the Lotto I was expecting…

Still, all this aside, if I”m still walking this planet, I know very well where I’ll be mid-April 2010…

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Top 5 Performances of Coachella 2009

5. Paul McCartney

4. Ghostland Observatory

3. TIE: Girl Talk, DJ AM/TRV$, and Drop the Lime for best ass-shaking moments

2. Beirut

1. No one deserves this Award this year…