Make that 10,000 drunk jackasses, since I’m assuming not everyone in the sold-out 20,000-capacity amphitheater was as lit as my new best friend near the front who yelled at the top of his lungs all night while furiously banging on a strobing tambourine.

This, of course, is not Mellencamp’s fault. The 56-year-old rocker did his best to out-sing his zealous fans during what I realized was my maiden voyage on the good ship Mellonhead (as his hoarse-voiced diehard fans lovingly refer to themselves). While I knew Mellencamp from his two-plus decades of Americana hymns about hard times, rolling waves of grain and the gritty determination of the average Jack and Diane, I was surprised by the dramatic tenor of a show I assumed would be all rousing rockers and ’80s boot stomping radio favorites. Don’t worry, he busted all of those out too.

Backed by a huge patchwork quilt backdrop on which he projected flinty images of determined-looking Americans of all stripes, Mellencamp spent the first half of the show playing a kind of New Orleans funeral set that felt like a dance party at the edge of the apocalypse. Chewing furiously on his gum (I’ll assume it was Nicorette, since he is an inveterate smoker, despite some heart troubles), Mellencamp opened with the one-two punch of “Pink Houses” and “Paper in Fire,” songs that felt, like the optimistic “Check It Out,” a bit more ragged and tinged with more sadness than I remembered.

A solo acoustic set featured a few songs from his new Starbucks album, Life Death Love and Freedom, including “A Ride Back Home” — in which he wearily asks Jesus to open the car door — and “If I Die Sudden,” a grim mediation on mortality in which he begs, “Just put me in a pine box/ Six feet underground/ Don’t be calling no minister.”

During these songs, angry, ominous paintings of a skeletal Jesus and hollow eyed children flashed on the backdrop, ceding to gripping images of the civil rights struggle during the song “Jena,” Mellencamp’s controversial homage to the noose-hanging incident in Jena, Louisiana. Believe it or not, the women in front us were dirty dancing to this song, which features the refrain “Oh, oh, oh, Jena/ Take your nooses down.”

In the tradition of Woody Guthrie, Mellencamp has always been big on topical songs, but just as I feared that I’d gone to a rock show where a civics lesson broke out, Mellencamp turned the corner and let ‘er rip, wrapping a dark, edgy embrace around “Human Wheels” and telling the audience that now that he’d talked about politics and racism, it was time to dance. Slapping a bit of Indiana corn funk on “Crumblin’ Down,” he provided just the soundtrack, and plenty more with the crowd-pleasing double shot of “R.O.C.K. in the U.S.A.” and a soulful “Jack & Diane.”

And, for a minute there, I could almost hear him singing.

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I had no plans to attend the inaugural appearance of the Download Festival in L.A., but in an act of desperation, concert monopoly Live Nation had a sale: $10 gets you in the door of the “as seen on TV” Gibson Amphitheater, tucked into the sprawling back lot of Universal Studios. Walking into the 8,500 seat venue at 4:20 p.m. sharp, I was shocked at just how empty the place was. Perhaps everyone was off checking out “The Dark Knight,” but I found myself laughing at the fact that even with a large discount in ticket price, no one bothered to show up. Mi amigo and I found some seats and checked out the tail end of Brooklyn indie/experimental rock act Yeasayer. The three songs I heard reminded me of a modern-day Jethro Tull without a flute player. I am still not sure if that’s a good or bad thing.

Having seen the married PETA-supporting duo Mates of State in the past, we stayed just long enough to check out Kori Gardner’s legs (I love that whole boot/dress look) without her husband catching on. With the cavernous venue half empty, I knew I had to be careful. Once false glance and Kori’s husband, Jason Hammel, would use his mad ninja skills to send his drum stick right through my eyeball. Deciding to play it safe, we left before they could play that forgettable song from that forgettable TV commercial and headed outside to see what was going on at the 5 Gum Stage.

For as empty as the indoor venue was, the outdoor side stage was even less crowded. A damn shame, too, as I discovered Portland, Oregon, experimental indie-folk rockers Blitzen Trapper. Imagine Bob Dylan backed by Modest Mouse and you can start to understand this six-piece band. The highlight of their late afternoon set was the dude with the ginger afro rocking a mean cowbell solo. Well, that and the explosions coming from the theme park attraction next door.

We headed back inside for what would be the highlight of the festival: Ghostland Observatory. One look at the Austin duo’s MySpace page, and you will find that they describe their sound as a “Robot making love to a tree!” This is only somewhat accurate. My description of what these two create would never get past MTV.com censors in a million years, so I won’t even bother to try. Let’s just say I am walking a bit funny today, as I am still trying to figure out how two people can make so much noise. The set was perfect, and I am not just saying that because drums/synthesizer player Thomas Ross Turner sported a cape like he was Rick Wakeman of Yes back in the 1970s. During the final number of their 40-minute set, a fan made his way onto the stage. Untouched by security, the fan was free to dance to Ghostland’s psychedelic jams. But in the end, this fan summed up what everyone in the sparsely populated crowd was thinking. He got on his knees and did his best Wayne & Garth “we’re not worthy” bow to the mighty Ghostland Observatory.

After watching their “reverse” performance on “Jimmy Kimmel Live!” I picked up the self-titled album by New Orleans band Mute Math at a garage sale up the street from my apartment. It was one of the better dollars I have spent on promo CDs from this young Hollywood music biz type. In fact, they were the main reason I ended up going to Download. For as upbeat as Mute Math are, it was cruel to ask them to follow the electronic skull crunch that is Ghostland Observatory. It did not help that the band shot its wad rather early, choosing to play its biggest hit to date, “Typical,” as the second song. In fact, my friend who came along for the ride fell asleep. I snuck out for a few minutes to the side stage to see the Night Marchers, but they were nothing special. I quickly found myself back inside watching Mute Math go through the motions. I expected their set to be effervescent, instead it was lifeless and dull.

As the stage rotated, in front of the quarter-full venue, it quickly became obvious that the folks who had made the trek to Download were there to see post-hardcore indie emo heroes Brand New. For the first time all day, fans got out of their seats and stood. I only recognized the radio hit “Sic Transit Gloria … Glory Fades” but found the rest of the songs very enjoyable. While the cracking vocals of frontman Jesse Lacey sounded prepubescent, the interplay and layered riffs of the band’s three guitarists and duel drummers were more than enough to keep me entertained. I felt like I was in high school again, hanging in the back of the auditorium doing drugs while watching all the cool kids from a distance. I have always been a fan of the LOUDsoftLOUD sound, and Brand New excel at this. When all was said and done, the crowd chanted in unison for one more song. As the stage turned, the chants ended and the mass exodus began. An already half-empty venue quickly became a desolate ghost town.

I am just going to come out and say it: I don’t understand what the big deal about Gang of Four is. I realize that this English band has influenced everyone from the Red Hot Chili Peppers to Bloc Party. While I give them credit for rocking as if the venue was full, seeing these old farts play in front of at most 1,000 people was just sad. In fact, we were so unimpressed that we left, and went outside to watch roadies tear down equipment from the DJ set of Flosstradamus, and set up second-stage headliners Caribou. After watching about five minutes of Caribou (it was good till the singer started to sing), we returned to the main venue expecting Gang of Four’s set to be over. We instead discovered sweat-soaked lead singer Jon King beating a microwave oven with a baseball bat. Yeah, like I said before, I just don’t get it.

I like the Jesus & Mary Chain, but watching them come out onstage, and seeing the collective shocked look on their faces, was simply dreadful and depressing. Los Angeles is home to countless hipster bands who have ripped off the Jesus & Mary Chain all the way to the bank, yet the crowd inside of the cavernous venue paying respects to this once vibrant and important band could have fit inside any club over the hill on the Sunset Strip, with room to spare. The mood felt more like a funeral then a rock show, yet this did not stop the Scottish legends from doing what they do best — putting on a lifeless, fuzzed-out, distorted show. I realize these guys are up there in years, but would it kill you to move at all during the performance? We ended up leaving about 30 minutes into their set, which is much longer then most others made it.

To say the first-ever Southern California Download Festival was a flop is an understatement. The booking of post-Coachella reunion nostalgia acts making their third trip through the Southland was a disaster of epic proportions. With Brand New being the only act with solid drawing power on the bill, they should have been the last band to play, forcing their young fan base to soak in the geriatric history lesson that is the Jesus & Mary Gang of Four. Then again, maybe the dead souls on work release from the old folks home should have followed the advice given by the current torch bearers of modern rock Brand New: Die young and save yourself.

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I went in only knowing two bands in the lineup (Broken Social Scene and the Helio Sequence) and having not been to Coney Island since I was around 3 feet tall, so I wasn’t too sure what to expect. What I got was a lot of good music, a lot of heat, and a lot of hipsters. Actually, I shouldn’t be too hard on the hipster demographic because I was pleasantly surprised by the diversity of the crowd and the diversity in music.

There were two stages set in between the tossing and twirling rides of Coney Island, with a total of 14 bands gracing them throughout the day. From the smooth sounds of Annuals to the high energy of These Are Powers, there was something for everyone. I quickly found myself becoming a fan of all these bands that I knew nothing of, hence the beauty of these festivals: You don’t have to be insanely music savvy to enjoy yourself. You can go out there with no expectations, no prior knowledge, and come home with a list of bands to hunt down on the Internet.

So my verdict? New Yorkers don’t even know how lucky they are. The amount of talent, passion and festivals available in the area is unheard of by my standards, and the best part of it … it’s all free.

So, kids, next time you hear of a plethora of music available in your area, go out and take advantage of it. Whether you know all the bands, some of them, or none of them; rain or severe shine, get your game face on and hit the town. Really, what’s the worst that could happen? Well, except for a little sunburn.

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Get Loud! Be Heard! Send Us Your Concert Reviews! Stop hugging the wall and jump in the You R Here mosh pit. Upload your photos and text at YouRHere.mtv.com. The best stuff goes on this blog, gets promoted on MTVNews.com, and might even end up on TV!