Halloween in Madison is dead. One could argue, and not without justification, that it was the city’s totalitarian tactics that led to the event’s demise long before this year. Charging admission, jacking up police enforcement and generally sedating the event to the point of absurdity may all have played a role. But the hand that swung the sharp ax of irrelevance came today in the form of an announcement that Of a Revolution, O.A.R. for short, will be the main event at Freakfest on State Street. In addition, the city announced that it will be raising the price of admission to $10 for tickets purchased at the gates.
O.A.R., as Madison’s WISC-TV reported, is comparable to the Dave Matthews Band in its ability to draw massive crowds of enthusiastic college students who still fondly remember choking up with inexplicable sorrow whenever Oasis played on the radio.
I’ve seen firsthand the disastrous plague of inebriated humanity that O.A.R. leaves in its horrendously mediocre passing. Herds of bros, visors cocked backwards and collars popped, alternate on a whim between fraternally swaying back and forth and viciously beating each other. Lead singer Marc Roberg will make an effort to woo the audience with a bizarre hybrid between the familiarity of a southern twang and a husky growl. In an objective sense, neither will succeed, but the Caucasian horde will not be deterred as its members hoist their Blackberries into the air for the umpteenth rendition of “Crazy Game of Poker”.
In “Poker,” Roberg will recount a game of poker that was crazy. So crazy, in fact, that he bet like a degenerate gambler and then was terribly surprised to learn that he had — shockingly! — “lost it all!”
Ten dollars could not possibly be spent on anything more profoundly inane.
Both the choice of music and the decision to jack up the price of attendance have powerful significance for the mourners of Madison’s deceased Halloween festivities. If the city wants to take proactive steps — bringing in the police — to ensure that private property will be protected, one can hardly blame them. And if corporate sponsorship guarantees a semblance of order and attractiveness, so much the better. But charging and then raising admission is a ridiculous move whose foundations lie in the city’s belief that there is no reasonable compromise between anarchy and micromanagement. It is difficult to see how the advocates of the plan could not see the cost to partygoers rising over time. On the same token, was it really such a challenge to predict that city planners would not see a magnificent opportunity to entertain students, but to scam money off them while simultaneously wasting their time?
In all fairness, choosing O.A.R. is no doubt statistically likely to please the greatest number of visitors to Freakfest this year. For a group that thought it pertinent to include revolution in its name, O.A.R. has consistently failed to do anything of the sort — and its appeal rests in its safety.
But the group’s selection symbolizes not only a belated attempt at appeasement. It is also a revelation of the city’s true intentions — put State Street on Prozac for the evening. The old Halloween festivities in no way encouraged students to think about, well, anything. However, it is a colossal disappointment to know that when the Mountain Dew-sponsored tents go up and Roberg steps on the stage to reaffirm how pleasant staying within one’s comfort zone really is, we are, in a very official sense, witnessing the death of a tradition.
Sam Clegg ([email protected]) is a sophomore majoring in French and economics. He cordially invites all the “bros” to “chill” at his apartment after the concert.
