Rock the Bells 2007 – Randall’s Island, NYC

Another concert blog.

Let’s talk about Rock the Bells 2007 on Randall’s Island in New York City. Top to bottom, it was one of the most stacked lineup I’ve ever seen at a festival. Rage Against the Machine, Wu-Tang Clan, Public Enemy with Scott Ian of Anthrax, Cypress Hill, Rakim, Mos Def, Talib Kweli, Black Star, Immortal Technique, and MF DOOM. I’d go see any one of them headline a show on their own. Erykah Badu was scheduled as well, though she ultimately didn’t perform.

When I saw that lineup, I immediately bought a couple of tickets.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t find any of my broke-ass friends to go with me. I was prepared to just head up on my own until a coworker mentioned that she and her ex-husband were going. She suggested that I ride with them so we could split the gas and driving. I thought, sure, why not — adventure time.

We decided to save money on a hotel and just drive straight through. So we headed out in the wee hours of the morning for the 9–10 hour trip. The drive there actually went great. Just chilling, chatting, and generally having a good time. We stopped for a nice breakfast in Jersey before heading toward the show. The place had amazing sausage, all made on-site. 

Now, it’s important to remember that the show was on Randall’s Island — which is itself an island off the island of Manhattan. So traffic was absolutely insane, even by normal New York City standards. This is also when we started realizing we might have slightly different philosophies about how to experience a concert weekend.

Knowing that I was sitting on an extra ticket, it was floated by the ex-husband that I sell it and use the money to pay for all the gas needed for the trip back.

Umm… no.

I was planning on selling the extra ticket outside the venue, but not to fully fund their trip. I was going to use it to make my money back and try to cover my expenses and a t-shirt. 

That went over about as well as you might expect, but it never turned into a real argument — just one of those slightly awkward road-trip moments that happen when people are stuck in a car together for ten hours. Other than a look and a quick “that’s not cool,” it faded away.

So I figured, whatever — I’m in NYC and about to go rock out. We’ll figure out the rest later.

It ended up taking more than three hours to go the last few miles to the venue — across the bridge, through Manhattan, and then over another bridge to Randall’s Island. The whole organization of the traffic and entry was a complete shit show.

Meanwhile, the rain that had been sprinkling all morning was starting to pick up.

Luckily, I had brought a change of clothes — always be prepared — so I wasn’t too worried about getting soaked.

When we finally got to the venue, the combination of the rain and the location meant there weren’t many people outside willing to pay anywhere close to face value for a ticket. Scalpers were selling entry for less than $100, and since we were heading in before noon, I decided to keep my extra ticket and use it as a re-entry pass so I could come out midday, change clothes, and dry off.

That decision turned out to be fortuitous.

Once inside, it became clear early on that the three of us had slightly different approaches to how we wanted to experience the show. Which was fine. Some people go to festivals to spectate. Others treat them more like participation sports.

I’m firmly in the second category (at least I was at 29!).

I didn’t drive all the way to New York to stand at the back of a 100,000-person crowd and watch from a distance.

I rolled up to roll up.

So we agreed on a meeting point right after Mos Def finished his set. I would grab the keys from them and go dry off in the car during Rakim’s set.

Off I went to get as close to the stage as possible.

Seeing Immortal Technique and MF DOOM live was incredible, and then watching Mos Def and Talib Kweli do their own sets and combine for Black Star was fucking epic all on its own.

Rock the Bells was unique in a way that’s hard to recreate now. It wasn’t just a festival lineup — it was a cultural summit. Political hip-hop, underground legends, conscious rap, East Coast pioneers, and Rage Against the Machine bridging rock and rap all sharing the same stage. It felt less like a concert and more like a snapshot of a particular era of hip-hop culture.

By that point, though, I was soaked and ready for the change of clothes.

I met back up with them to get the keys. They were there, though not particularly thrilled that I was about to go sit in the car, dry off, warm up, change clothes, and come back refreshed for Cypress Hill, Public Enemy, Wu-Tang, and Rage.

I basically said, yeah, sorry — they’re selling cheap tickets out in the parking lot if you want to come back in later. It’s not like I didn’t pay for the right to do this. Although honestly, I would rather have been there with Trae or Corey.

They had a small SUV, so I popped the back hatch and chilled out for a bit. I dried off, changed clothes, warmed up, and got ready for Round Two. 

On my way back toward the entrance, I came across a maintenance golf cart and managed to swipe a few industrial trash bags to use as ponchos. I tossed one on so I could stay dry for the rest of the show.

Before getting back in, though, I made the mistake of wandering toward the portable toilet area.

It was… rough.

The organizers clearly hadn’t brought in nearly enough portable toilets or toilet trailers for the size of the crowd. Combine that with the steady rain, and the entire area had turned into what can only be described as a slow-moving river of water mixed with piss and shit flowing downhill away from the potty area.

It was one of those festival moments where you realize very quickly that crowd logistics is a form of public infrastructure. When it’s done right, nobody notices. When it’s done wrong, everyone definitely notices.

Needless to say, I did not linger there.

Another thing that stood out to me was how lax the security was. At my entrance there weren’t even any metal detectors. You just walked up, scanned your ticket, and walked in. This was only seven years after 9/11, when I expected security to be the opposite — bag checks, pat-downs, the whole thing.

Instead, it was surprisingly relaxed, and the crowd reflected this laissez fair approach. 

Once back inside, though, it was clear the vibe with my ride companions wasn’t going to magically reset.

They were already hinting at leaving early to beat the traffic.

Like I was going to miss a single second of Rage Against the Machine to save an hour of traffic.

At the same time, I also wasn’t thrilled about the prospect of having to figure out my own way back from New York City, so I was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

But fuck it.

How often do you get to see a lineup like that?

So I headed back down toward the front to get as close as possible again. Unfortunately, by that point it was packed tighter than any concert crowd I’d ever seen. I’ve been to plenty of 100,000 strong crowds, but never anything that tight. I made it maybe twenty or twenty-five yards from the stage before it became completely sardine-like.

Crowds that size develop a personality of their own. Individual behavior starts dissolving into collective momentum. Everyone feeds off the same emotional current, and suddenly the day feels bigger than the sum of the artists performing.

Given my short stature, there was absolutely no way I was seeing anything from there. So after Public Enemy finished, I backed out far enough that I could actually see Wu-Tang and Rage.

Throughout the day there were amazing performances.

My favorite was probably Immortal Technique. He’s one of my favorite artists, and it’s always a treat seeing Mos and Talib bounce off each other live. Public Enemy absolutely delivered, and bringing Scott Ian from Anthrax out for “Bring the Noise” was one of the most epic concert moments I’ve ever experienced. The love and respect between those artists was obvious.

Then Wu-Tang came out and reminded everyone why Wu-Tang ain’t nothin’ to fuck with, including a tribute performance of “Shimmy Shimmy Ya” in honor of ODB.

All in all, the music more than delivered on my admittedly high expectations.

Then came Rage Against the Machine.

They’ve been one of my favorite bands since probably my freshman year of high school. I had tickets to see them on their Rhyme & Reason tour with the Beastie Boys years earlier, but the tour was postponed when one of the Beasties broke an arm, and eventually the whole thing was cancelled when Rage broke up.

For years I figured I’d never get to see them live.

So this was a massive bucket-list moment for me.

And they absolutely brought the fucking house down, especially given the backdrop.

It honestly brought tears to my eyes — partly because a long-time dream was finally being fulfilled, and partly because it reminded me how powerful their music still was. Rage Against the Machine was always more than just a band. For a lot of people in my generation, they were a political awakening delivered through distortion pedals.

Alas, the reunion didn’t last.

At least not yet.

Eventually the show ended, and it was time to head back.

We had regrouped at the beginning of Rage’s set so I could watch the show without losing my ride home. By that point we were all exhausted from driving all night and rocking out all day.

Traffic leaving the island was already looking like it would take hours just to get a few miles toward New Jersey. So we made a plan: I would take a nap in the backseat, and they’d wake me when it was my turn to drive.

I ended up getting about four hours of sleep before being jolted awake by us nearly getting into an accident.

The driver had started dozing off behind the wheel.

We were just inside Pennsylvania at that point, which meant we were maybe two hours into what had started as a nine-hour drive.

While the guy was already falling asleep, at that point I was wide awake.

I convinced them to pull off at the next exit — ostensibly to fill up the tank, but really so I could assess the situation. After the gas stop and some snacks, I wasn’t convinced it was safe for him to keep driving.

No shade — it had been a long day and he hadn’t slept.

I offered to pay for a hotel room so we could all get some real sleep and drive back safely in the morning.

For whatever reason, that plan wasn’t acceptable to them.

So I made a different proposal: I’d drive the rest of the way back myself, or I’d stay there and figure out my own way home.

Fortunately, they agreed to let me drive. Honestly, it wasn’t a hard sell 🙂.

I ran back inside the gas station, grabbed a couple Red Bulls and a protein bar, and we hit the road again.

The rest of the drive was relatively uneventful, aside from me being absolutely exhausted. They took turns staying awake to talk to me for fear I would nod off. I started feeling things get a bit dicey for myself around five in the morning, but then the sun came up and gave me a second wind.

We only had to stop one more time, right near the Ohio border.

After that, it was smooth sailing till I got back home around 10 am.

Ultimately, the trip ended up being a great time, and any tension that popped up during the day blew over as quickly as stage crews switching bands between sets.

And when you zoom out, I got to see one of the greatest lineups imaginable, with one of the world’s great cities rising on the horizon.

Doesn’t get much better than that.acing uncertainty and change.