If Winter Music Conference just consisted of the two-day Ultra Festival and some post-midnight events at the dozens of clubs here, it would still exert massive pull as a killer weekend for dance music. As it stands, one could completely ignore Ultra and still have a fantastic time- which is more a positive reflection of the variety of events going on throughout the city than a disparagement of Ultra, which really does offer a pretty nice festival atmosphere for a comparatively reasonable price.

Still, if you were wanting to see the Cure, which we were, there was only one thing to do - go to Ultra Day One. Plus Day Two, which we’ll depart for shortly, has an amazing line-up, including a baker’s dozen of acts we’d be skipping all across the city on various nights to see, perhaps at places where - like on Thursday - we’d be confronted with a hiked-up headliner door charge. Oh, and the list provided via the link above is just a teaser. Click on “Click Here for Additional Lineup” to view the mind-boggling complete list of artists.

Since every flyer we’d seen placed the Cure’s name atop everything else, and everyone we’ve spoken to seemed to rate them as the really desirable act to see this weekend, we assumed quite naturally that they would go on, umm, last. You know, like a headliner. As we pulled around the corner at 9-ish, however, I could hear a familiar pastyboy wailing over the traffic. OK, I figured as we disembarked from the cab, they must be playing a really long set and just got on. There was no end of flim-flam at the gate - first we were sent around the building to pick up a ticket no one so much as glanced at, then told no cameras were allowed despite watching the guy in front of us enter with his held right in his hand, then finally sent to the real real entrance for Press, otherwise known as walking into the exit rather than out of it, where we were waved through without being padded down or groped.

By the time we made it out to the main stage, an Ultra staffer had informed us that the Cure had been on for two hours and this was their last song. Well, they’d been on for two hours, but it was their fifth last song, as they played two encores. Initial impressions suggested a return to spartan gloom - no keyboard player, the band stripped down to a black-clad quartet, stomping through grim versions of “A Hundred Years” from Pornography and “A Forest.” After a brief, surely non drug-related interlude, the band returned to the stage and belted out three paisley-period nuggets. Husky, rocked-up versions of “Let’s Go to Bed” (including a tongue-incheek lyric change apropos of WMC - “if you think you’re tired now / wait until seven”)and “Close to Me” made way for a startling “Why Can’t I Be You.” Never one of my favorites, the thumping drums and synth-free arrangement here made ample room for the storming Motown beat to dominate the song to great effect.

By this time, however, it became clear who the real headliner was going to be, with festivalgoers unleashing snarky comments and chanting for “Tiesto!” during the last couple numbers. Sounds like our cue to leave…

After a cursory glance around the festival grounds and the (lame) V.I.P. area, we met up with some friends and surveyed the carnage from a geodesic dome-sporting hill near the entrance. With two stages not even in use until Day 2, the place was still jam-packed. Fire-dancers and glow-sticks added to the confusion - was this ‘91 or ‘07? I though big raves were dead in America. Oh, right, just big raves that don’t cost a couplea Ben Franks.

Four things we took away from Ultra:

1) If you’ve pre-bought any kind of ticket or pass, it will always be twice as confusing as just going up to the gate and paying whatever ungodly amount of money they want.

2) If you spend more than five minutes exhorting the crowd before actually starting to play your music, you’re a cheerleader, not a bloody DJ.

3) If there is someone on the top and at the beginning of every single piece of internet or print information about a certain event, it does not mean they are the headliner.

4) Not having to hear “Friday I’m in Love” is the only positive result of being screwed by thing #3.

[Mallory O’Donnell]