Recap We go to Summerfest and find the usual: rapping cowboys, endless drum solos, public urination, etc.

When I boarded the park-and-ride bus to Summerfest on Friday and overheard some brat yammering on his cell phone about how he was on his way to see the “Flavor Flav group” and how it’s “gonna be totally fucking hilarious,” I thought, “Good, my evening won’t get any more annoying than this.” Turns out I was sadly mistaken as I braved A.V. Club Milwaukee’s first visit to Summerfest 2010. Cowboy Troy had even worse things in store for me at the Briggs & Stratton Big Backyard stage. 

For those not familiar with the ins and outs of country-rap, Cowboy Troy is the talentless Brundlefly of Tone Loc and Kenny Chesney who was responsible for “I Play Chicken With The Train,” one of the worst songs of the last decade to see a major release. (Actually, “Hick Chick” might be even worse; check out these Vanilla Ice-caliber rhymes: “Get up, move your body to the beat / Witness the dope lyrics that I speak / Get this deep into your cranium / Drop it like it’s hot / ’Til you’re glowin’ like uranium.”)

But  who am I to be a buzzkill? People love this shit. The performance was fucking packed with people of all ages singing along—including a 50-something woman with few visible teeth that was belting out all the words to “Hick Chick” a few feet behind me. If that’s not the most Summerfest thing ever, I don’t know what is.

After choking down as much “Hick-hop” as I could stomach, I headed toward the U.S. Cellular stage to check out Chicago poet-gone-rapper Malik Yusef, who was supporting that “Flavor Flav group” also known as Public Enemy. On the way there, I came across Lucky Diop—a West African percussionist based out of Milwaukee—and a couple of friends offering a pleasant, tribal thump for passersby and charging $1 to anyone who cared to join their drum circle. Three older gentlemen in dad shorts and Hawaiian shirts tapped their congas along with Diop and company with little confidence. Meanwhile, an exceptionally sweaty kid in an Insane Clown Posse shirt looked on. As hard as it was to pull myself away from this scintillating action, I had to move on.

When I finally made it to Yusef’s show, the setup seemed promising. He had a full live band and a back-up vocalist, and I was sucked in right away by the earnest delivery of “Wouldn’t You Like To Ride,” originally a collaboration with Kanye West and Common. “Yo Milwaukee, make some noise if you’re in the muthafuckin’ building,” Yusef shouted, seemingly unaware that we were standing outside. Then the band jumped into a lame cover of Red Hot Chili Peppers’ “Under The Bridge” (redundant?) and Yusef began dropping in cheesy freestyles. Unfortunately, the head-scratching covers didn’t stop there: Yusef’s perversions of R.E.M.’s “Losing My Religion,” Phil Collins’ “In The Air Tonight, and Kanye West’s “Amazing” chased me to the Edwardo’s Pizza stand, where I wolfed down a slice of deliciously gut-rotting, stuffed spinach pizza. It was around this time that I ran into a few mustachioed white kids decked out in “Fight The Power” shirts and clock-chains. When I asked one of them if the clock-chains were homemade, the kid stretched is arms out and shouted, “Hell yeah, dawg!” Hell yeah indeed.

At the end of the night, I divided my time between three side-stage headliners: 311, Jeff Beck, and Public Enemy. Chuck D and Flavor Flav’s fiery performance made me forget that PE hasn’t made a decent record since 1998’s He Got Game. Kicking off with the mighty “Brothers Gonna Work It Out” from 1990’s Fear Of A Black Planet, Chuck D’s voice boomed across the audience while Flavor Flav displayed a surprising level of energy, doing jumpkicks and running across the stage without missing a beat. Chuck D announced to the crowd early on that Public Enemy is currently celebrating the 21st and 20th anniversaries of It Takes A Nation Of Millions To Hold Us Back and Fear Of A Black Planet by going “back to the old school” and letting those two albums dominate their sets. No complaints here. After Public Enemy blasted through killer renditions of “911 Is A Joke” and “Welcome To The Terrordome,” I wandered off for a little while to see what 311 and Jeff Beck were up to.

While 311’s cut-and-paste blend of rap-rock and ska may have worn out its welcome for me 10 years ago, there were thousands of people that were more than happy to congest the Miller Lite Oasis stage for the Nebraskan radio-rockers. “This next song is about music,” vocalist-guitarist Nick Hexum said before “Hey You” from 2009’s Uplifter. Aw! 311 must hate music! The worst feature of 311 is the nasal vocal delivery of vocalist S.A. Martinez, who had a tough time cutting through the mix. During a rendition of “Random,” I looked over and saw girl punching a guy in the face repeatedly and decided that I should probably redirect my focus to the band, as drummer Chad Sexton launched into what felt like a 10-minute drum solo.

With frilly white boots, sparkling armband, and a haircut that just won him a mention in the infamous “Men Who Look Like Old Lesbians” blog, Jeff Beck proved his acrobatic guitar wizardry is still fully intact as he and his backing band ripped through the bluesy shuffle of “Big Block” from 1989’s Guitar Shop. Beck’s flurry of techniques makes his guitar-playing sound extraordinarily human as he taps, bends, and plucks note after soulful note out his Fender Stratocaster. Meanwhile, the rhythm section of bassist Rhonda Smith and sparkling vest-clad drummer Narada Michael Walden kept pace with robotic precision. Unfortunately, I had only been watching Beck for a little while before Walden launched into a fucking drum solo. It was time to wander back for the rest of Public Enemy’s set.

On the walk back I stumbled across some kid passed out in a pile of wood chips as his friend pissed on the fence behind him—pretty standard action for 11 p.m. at Summerfest. I got back in time to see Flavor Flav play the drums while Chuck D spat some rhymes. “Most people don’t know that he’s actually a musician,” Chuck D joked, as Flavor Flav plopped down on the drum throne. “Before I start, I just want to thank y’all for making me the number-one reality TV star,” Flav shouted to a mix of cheers and boos. “I went through 60 girls on Flavor Of Lo—!“ At this point an annoyed Chuck D interrupted, “No one cares about that shit. All people wanna know is ‘Can you play the goddamn drums?’” Flav shut up immediately and hammered out some rudimentary grooves while Chuck D spat a verse from “Timebomb.” I hope that brat from the bus, wherever he was, found the moment fucking hilarious.