The Hollywood Festival is mostly forgotten now. There was no great movie made–mostly because the Dead dosed the entire camera crew–and no one got stabbed by the Hells Angels; the poor concert plum forgot to affix itself to a great narrative, and it just floats in the Rock Nerd aether along with Bickershaw and various Texas/California Jams.
Which is what it deserves, really: the festival was an exceedingly minor one that today is primarily remembered for launching the career of Mungo Jerry. Also, this shit:
Yes, that is a giant inflatable penis, which has never not been embarrassing. Shameful when Mick Jagger rode one around stage, debasing when the Beastie Boys blew one up on their first tour, and blushworthy here. There are also giant inflatable boobies; they are behind the scaffolding on the right side of the photograph.
Also on the right side of the pic: guy with access to a Time Sheath who has snuck an iPhone X back to 1970. At least be subtle about it, bro.
Here’s the poster:
First: “Leycett near Newcastle under Lyme-Staffordshire” is clearly a satirical town name made up by Monty Python or someone. Nothing could be that British.
Second: Shockingly enough, the poster made by stoned dimwits who declared bankruptcy immediately after the show, leaving all the contractors and technicians unpaid, features some inaccuracies. Neither the Flying Burrito Brothers nor the James Gang actually performed (or were in the country that weekend), but Screaming Lord Sutch and San Fran favorites the Flaming Groovies did. Whether or not Alice Cooper did is a matter of debate, as it was the past and no one wrote anything down.
Third: Dead played at 4:30 on Sunday afternoon. Didn’t headline. Makes sense, though: the band had never been to England before, and the fuddie-duddies at the BBC certainly weren’t wearing out their copies of Aoxomoxoa. The hip kids had heard of the Dead, but not heard the Dead. Maybe NME had written about them. When they returned in 1972, they’d sell out their shows without any support acts, but–in 1970–they were the support act.
(To Mungo Jerry. Honest. The Grateful fucking Dead opened for Mungo fucking Jerry. The neo-skiffle act went over so well on Saturday that the organizers gave them another set on Sunday right after the Dead. Crowd ate ’em up.)
Fourth: While I can’t find any first-hand accounts of Ginger Baker punching anyone, rest assured that Ginger Baker punched at least one person that weekend. This was right before everyone in London got so sick of him that he fled to Nigeria to be the second-best drummer in Fela Kuti’s band for a while, before everyone in Lagos got so sick of him that he had to flee back to London.
Fifth: Holy shit, the Hells Angels were there after all!
But, you know, not really. These were the British version of the Hells Angels that Mick Jagger had taken a liking to at the Stones’ Hyde Park show, leading to the disaster at Altamont, and they weren’t up to snuff. Look at that drawn-on swastika. That guy in the bear hat from Gimme Shelter could take these sissipated poseurs all by himself.
Here’s a better shot of the Dead’s set, featuring more giant inflatable boobies:
Titties and ding-dongs, Enthusiasts. When they ask you about the 70’s, just tell ’em it was nothing but titties and ding-dongs.
If you’d like to know more about the 1970 Hollywood Festival, then consult your local library. Then, after they tell you they have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about, go to this site.
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