Thanks everyone. I considered asking the GloNo honchos to make it an article, but I worried it was too much a personal impression as opposed to "journalistic review." Plus, I just wanted to get it out there at some point.
Ticket-wise it was like any concert, except for the destination--tickets sold out virtually the moment they became available. They included swank hotel rooms and show passes; you find the airfare. I was able to go by sort of a freak set of circumstances, but it was open to anyone. The size of the venue (2,500) was chosen by Matador as a place that could accommodate fans but still keep a relatively intimate party atmosphere. I think the reason my friends even got tickets is because they went for the rarer VIP passes.
Now, these VIP passes didn't too mean much except that there was no waiting around, and also you could party in this crazy place (if you weren't too exhausted) at any time of the day. You also had excellent seats in the 2,500-seat Pearl theater--but there isn't a bad seat in the place.
Shows started at 5:00-ish each night, which essentially meant you either skipped dinner, or decided to go later to see bands you had already heard of. They had after hours parties in other areas which were pretty cool (including free beer at times); I tried to brave these events by the old method of drinking to stay awake but each night was intense and exhausting.
Swag included a 'zine-ish booklet introducing some of the newer bands (e.g. Shearwater, Esben and the Witch), a 12 inch split single (alas my friend has this so I don't know who's on it), Matador tote bag & tie pin.
My wife surprised us out there, and she didn't have a ticket, so one fun thing was cutting off my cloth wristband pass while in my seat, having a friend smuggle it out to the casino, where she taped it on her wrist and got to enjoy all the shows on Saturday night. It felt very punk rock, but it made getting to and from the bathrooms a production (because you needed the pass to get back to your seat. I sewed it back on my wrist for Sunday's shows.
And as you can imagine part of the fun was running across various "celebs" in your comings and goings--you have that moment where you recognize them as a friend, and then realize "Wait--they don't know me!" Speaking of being old, there's hope: Thurston Moore is 52 (!) and the fucking guy still looks (from afar) and moves like a 23-year old.
This is the place where you can vent whatever's on your mind. Feel free to go off on extended rants or brief blurbs about whatever's rocking your world.
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