The second day of Bumbershoot opened with a whimper. I woke to the sound of pouring rain that sucked my will to wander festival grounds. As this happened to be a Sunday, I had the benefit of free parking if I was quick enough to the area. I zipped up to the area around my office (which is a handful of blocks from the Seattle Center) and located a spot that was 3 or 4 blocks from the Broad Street entrance. It was about 10am, and I felt that fortification against the weather would be a great way to pass the time until the gates opened and shows started.
Working in the area definitely worked to my advantage as I knew exactly the dive to swaddle myself in until the day was to begin. I headed over to the Five Points Bar (affectionately known as the Knife Point, after dark, apparently), and cozied into a booth in the corner. The surly server came over and dropped a menu on the table which I promptly refused, instead opting for a fortification of the liquid variety, namely a double gin and tonic. There may also have been coffee, but that was more of a garnishment then actual substance. The drink arrived and I sipped cautiously (hell, perhaps I wasn't that cautious...) at it. The booze was strong in this one. The gin was cut in the most ineffectual way by a splash of tonic, and a minuscule lime wedge perched ineffectually on the lip of the pint glass that it came in. This was going to be a quick descent into madness.
An older couple got seated at the booth next to me, and it was from them I heard of the Five Point's particular reputation. They both appeared to be pretty well soused when they sat down, and added more fuel to their own fire's by virtue of double bloody marys. I worked my way through the gin and tonic with a fighter's tenacity, and took a cue from them for my second (and final) drink of the morning. A double bloody mary arrived, and the server indicated that, "They were unable to fit all the booze in, so I brought a shot as well." As with the gin and tonic, the bloody mary was practically flammable as it arrived, and drinking it down enough to add the shot was enough to put me in a fine fettle for the day. I finished up at the Five Points, paid up, and headed towards the gate.
First up on my list had been Handful of Luvin', but I had opted to skip this in light of morning shenanigans. Instead I moved on to number two on my list, Hey Marseilles. I had wanted to see them at the Capitol Hill Block Party but had showed up a bit too late on that occasion. I arrived with plenty of time to spare this go around and thanks to the weather was able to secure a spot near the stage. It is at the Hey Marseilles set that I saw my first two gingers of the festival. The set was amazing. Definitely not a four piece ensemble here. Their songs pull in accordion, cello, and fiddle amongst others. Their sound makes me envision a Wes Anderson film.
Next on the list was Cold War Kids. Unfortunately, sticking around til the end of Hey Marseilles only left 15 minutes to get to the Mainstage and hear a song or two before they wrapped up their set. I caught about a song and a half before they wrapped up, and I made my way to the Rockstar Energy Drink stage to catch a little bit of Volifonix. This was pretty bleh in terms of what I saw. I took the opportunity to gorge myself on samples of the stage's namesakes energy drink, before heading back to the main stage for Yeah Yeah Yeahs.
The set was decent, but didn't have the same pull as the Hey Marseilles set. I hung around through 6 or 7 songs. Karen O definitely has a hell of a stage presence. A handful of songs I've heard pulling radio time (not "Maps" though) and I scooted towards the Broad Street Stage to catch the tail end of the Mt. St. Helens Vietnam Band. They finished up with "Albatross, Albatross, Albatross" which made for a gleeful terminus (and made me immensely glad that I cut out of Yeah Yeah Yeahs when I did).
At this point I had a hole in my schedule. I once again gorged myself on festival food and made my way to the line for Swollen Members. This was to be the hip hop leg of my weekend. The line took forever to wander into the Rockstar Stage venue. I saw three or four songs before I cut out on this one. Nothing particularly memorable. Almost more interesting watching security getting cues from their spotters on high and trying to find the sources of stray smoke at the indoor venue. At this point I found a spot near the Fischer Green stage where Common Market was playing. I took a bit of time to finish reading a book and hear a few songs. Definitely enjoyed this a bit more then Swollen Members.
Then a trip over to the Sky Church to stand in line for Sleepy Eyes of Death, which was quite different then what I thought it was going to be. Not completely unpleasant, but not quite as interesting as I thought it would be (and definitely not as interesting as the half hour spent in line.... its a shame that lines play so much into some of the venues. It definitely puts a bit more pressure on the band to make the wait worthwhile). I left early again to see Holy Fuck at the Broad Street stage.
This was a nice interlude. Holy Fuck is a band that plays around in that space called Electronica. I found a spot to sprawl out on a dry patch for a bit and enjoyed the energy that they brought to their set. An hour later I meandered on to see Brett Dennen.
Nothing unexpected here. I've heard Brett Dennen before and live he is much as he is on albums. Niceish songs sung by a nice kind of guy for nice folks to feel nice to.
I headed back over to the Broad Street stage for The Helio Sequence when that time rolled around and finished off the day in the same place as I had Saturday. The Helio Sequence wasn't quite in the same league as The Long Winters on my to see list, but they were a damn fine way to end Sunday. Definitely a close second to Hey Marseilles in terms of what I saw on Sunday.
I did not stay til the end of their set though. PAX had wrapped up earlier, and there was the promise of Munchkin, pizza, and beer at home with Derek and the Canadians that were to crash at our house that night. I rushed home after 6 or 7 songs.
Unfortunately, none of the three promised things were to be. Apparently some sort of plague had popped up at PAX and Derek was firmly entrenched in his room when I got back with said plague. Undaunted, I prepared myself for the final day of Bumbershoot, which had added a new wrinkle in that I now had the task of trying to sell his ticket as well.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Bumbershoot Day 1 or How I Definitely Did Not Find Myself Face Down In A Urinal. Nerd.
I've thought about how to present this and think I'll settle for the standard day 1, day 2, day 3 format. I wrestled with the idea of making it episodic content which would make for more digestible chunks of text, but there's some overhead associated with that I just didn't feel like tackling. So the somewhat stream of consciousness ramble will begin in 3...2....1.
Saturday started out as an exercise in herding cats. Or dogs. Actually. With Derek up at PAX for the weekend, I had the (dare I say?) privilege (on second thought, maybe not) of taking care of Nikita in addition to Lance. Because of the extended time away ( gates opened at 11am and the last show ended at 11pm, plus travel time), it seemed like a longish walk would be of some benefit on the not shitting and pissing on the carpet front (and oh how wrong I was). And after walking there was the feeding, and then trying to wrestle her into her kennel. And then scurrying about for schedules, water, anything that might need to be packed. I got out the door around 11 and laid a patch from a smallish side street in Federal Way all the way up into Seattle.
Have I ever mentioned how much I hate Seattle parking? Yes? No? Well, I do. Prior to last year, the previous Bumbershoot I had been to had resulted in my car being towed. On that occasion, I parked south of a sign that said "No Parking North of Here" only to find later that while the sign indicated one orientation, both were equally ticketable and towable. This time I didn't fuck around. I found one of the Pay to Park spots, which every where else in the world are free on weekends and holidays. I hopped out, double checked the meter and found that in the wonderful scheme of Seattle parking, they're free on Sundays and Holidays. Which meant they wouldn't suffice for free parking on that particular day. I roved the streets for a bit, and gave in to a pay lot, dropping $16 on parking for the day. I hopped out of my car, gave a Seattle Parking Enforcement officer the finger (with my mind), and began walking the handful of blocks to the Broad Street Entrance.
I have to admit up front that I had no specific plans for the early part of Saturday. Nothing in particular had stood out (although I had checked a few things off that I didn't think I'd care for .... Kristen Ward, Everest). I lucked myself into getting a ticket from KEXP for Telekinesis at their music lounge at noonish (a lucky turn of events, given later occupancy issues). They played a handful of songs and were damn good. I think I linked a KEXP performance of theirs in the post on the CHBP, so I'd direct your gaze down in that direction if you're inclined. The set was short, and left a bit of time before anything else that I had wanted to see.
So the next few hours were spent wandering and reacclimating to the locations of the various stages, food stands, etc... I caught a song by the Olympic Sound Collective at the Fisher Green Stage on my way by (decent, but didn't stand out enough to get me to stick for any more), and decided to head towards the Northwest Court Stage for the Not-Its.
The description that I had read indicated that they were punk. So with this bit of information in mind I rolled up to the stage. Two ladies and two fellas fleshed out the band. The lady-type folks were in pink tutu dealies. This of course was punk rock. In my mind. Not so much in reality. What I had failed to process from the write-up in the Stranger's Bumbershoot Guide was that members had been in punk bands in the past, but children, middle age, etc, etc.... had resulted in them playing some fucktarded brand of bubblegum punk for children. They were a kiddie punk rock band. Sing-a-long style. Calling out for the kids to perform dance type actions. There was no raging against machines here. No anarchy. Nothing of any substance. One song played and I hadn't quite had an aneurysm yet, so I decided not to press my luck, and hurried away from the stage towards the Broad Street Stage where Natalie Portman's Shaved Head was going on at 2:30.
Natalie Portman's Shaved Head didn't seem to have a very polished sound live, but they definitely had an energetic (read: great) show. They had a blast through the entire thing, and the crowd fed off that resulting in a happy happy bounce fest. And there was some kind of nautical theme going too. So happy happy sea captain-y bounce fest. Minus the scurvy, but plus a giant crowd surfing turtle. Hooray turtle!
Onwards the day went. This time I headed to the EMP Sky Church for Past Lives. Band bio wise, Past Lives apparently spawned out of the hardcore corpse of Blood Brothers. Not positive about this, but I'm pretty sure I saw Blood Brothers when I was going to UPS (and was far more hardcore - although, the next band up makes me feel way more hardcore now). All of this is likely besides the point, as I can't recall how I felt about the Blood Brothers if I in fact felt anything at all.
The new incarnation though is something that I can say tickles me in a way that is completely appropriate. Much like Feral Children last year, I ended up nodding along viciously. If there were a little person inside my head, it would have suffered an aggravated case of Shaken Baby Syndrome. If in fact they had CDs outside the venue, I would have purchased one immediately. Unfortunately, I never found the FYE booth associated with the Sky Church venue. So I didn't (but I will).
And then I had a brief intermission. Rather then go else where, and come back 30 minutes later for Akimbo, I just stayed in the Sky Church in between sets. I had a spot on the rail right in front of where the singer/bassist John Weisnewski was set up. Little details that stick out. On a piece of Weisnewski's equipment, a sticker that said I Love Lamp. The guitarist Aaron Walters reminds me of Judah Freilander (from 30 Rock), albeit way more ripped. And the drummer Nat Damm has a ridiculously amusing countenance. Also a lot of hair, which whips around like something alive as he beats his way through song after song. They finished their planned set list early and launched into a bunch of Black Flag covers to round out the time slot. Much like at the Capitol Hill Block Party, they smashed me in the face with their awesomeness.
Next up, Matt and Kim. Not quite sure what to expect here. I went in with very little in the way of expectations. The description in the Stranger's preview had been indicative of happy indie dance like things. Which I suppose was about spot on. The bit that really stood out for me were Kim's arms. She was the drummer in the drum and keyboard pair, and her arms definitely displayed a musculature that was intimidating. And as they flexed and strained through the powerful beats, she had this insane smile going. I was intrigued. Also, intimidated. I stuck around for a few songs. I feel sort of like this wasn't something that I'd get particularly worked up over, but wouldn't complain if I was bouncing around in a party like atmosphere with ladies of indie repute. I left early to see a folk singer Eleni Mandell and grab a beer over at the Northwest Court Stage. The beer was overpriced (and small) and the music was essentially the kind of thing that you'd catch in any coffee shop. The rain started up at this point and I huddled under an umbrella at a table in the beer garden through a song or two, before deciding that the meager protection of the table's umbrella wasn't worth hanging around for something I wasn't particularly enthused for. I headed towards the Main Stage.
The Main Stage on Saturday had both the Old 97s and Sheryl Crow. I was interested in seeing a bit of the Old 97s (not so much Sheryl Crow). I secured a seat in the stadium and waited for the set to start. An interesting bit. The crowd for the Old 97s was the smallest crowd that I saw for any of the main stage shows. The mass of people didn't even make it halfway back to the secondary barrier. The crowds at the Starbucks stage and the Broad Street Stage were larger for various shows. Which I suppose is a bit sad. Especially considering how good the Old 97s actually are. I was at the main stage for 5 or 6 songs. Rhett Miller is a fucking rock star. If Telekinesis weren't on at almost exactly the same time, I would have caught the entire set. But such was not the case.
And because I knew that the Sky Church was relatively small, I rushed over in its direction hoping to catch a longer set of Telekinesis. Alas, this was in vain. The venue was full. And I didn't get to see them. Instead, I found food, and drowned my sorrow in garlic fries. Basil Garlic Fries. Mmmm....
And I moved over to the Broad Street Stage for the last show of my night, The Long Winters. This was probably one of the best shows I saw all weekend. On top of the quality of the music, John Roderick is one hell of an amusing guy. I hadn't realized, but The Long Winters had apparently been on hiatus for a bit. The show at Bumbershoot marked their intent to put out a new album and start touring again. So, look forward to that in the near future. I got a call from Derek before things started up (he was over at PAX) and he said I should meet him and some of his friends for some beers at the Taphouse. I opted not to leave early, and said I'd meet them later. He said to call before heading over to see if they were still there. I said okay and through my phone in my pocket.
I singalong and all that fun stuff for over an hour and a half. When the set ends, I'm giddy. Minus The Long Winters, the day might have been much inferior. Instead, I'm ready for a beer or two with friends followed by a short night of sleep and another day of music.
I pull my phone out of my pocket to call Derek, and find it to be dead (I guess pictures and videos suck a lot of juice). Undaunted, I head to the Taphouse anyways. Or at least, in the direction that I think the Taphouse is (because Derek and Co. are operating without cars, I imagine that they're within walking distance of the convention center). I home in on its exact location using the valet of a hotel in the area. I wander about inside for a bit, and can't find them, so I sit down at the bar and grab a beer anyways. Then its back home, dog walking, etc...
Saturday started out as an exercise in herding cats. Or dogs. Actually. With Derek up at PAX for the weekend, I had the (dare I say?) privilege (on second thought, maybe not) of taking care of Nikita in addition to Lance. Because of the extended time away ( gates opened at 11am and the last show ended at 11pm, plus travel time), it seemed like a longish walk would be of some benefit on the not shitting and pissing on the carpet front (and oh how wrong I was). And after walking there was the feeding, and then trying to wrestle her into her kennel. And then scurrying about for schedules, water, anything that might need to be packed. I got out the door around 11 and laid a patch from a smallish side street in Federal Way all the way up into Seattle.
Have I ever mentioned how much I hate Seattle parking? Yes? No? Well, I do. Prior to last year, the previous Bumbershoot I had been to had resulted in my car being towed. On that occasion, I parked south of a sign that said "No Parking North of Here" only to find later that while the sign indicated one orientation, both were equally ticketable and towable. This time I didn't fuck around. I found one of the Pay to Park spots, which every where else in the world are free on weekends and holidays. I hopped out, double checked the meter and found that in the wonderful scheme of Seattle parking, they're free on Sundays and Holidays. Which meant they wouldn't suffice for free parking on that particular day. I roved the streets for a bit, and gave in to a pay lot, dropping $16 on parking for the day. I hopped out of my car, gave a Seattle Parking Enforcement officer the finger (with my mind), and began walking the handful of blocks to the Broad Street Entrance.
I have to admit up front that I had no specific plans for the early part of Saturday. Nothing in particular had stood out (although I had checked a few things off that I didn't think I'd care for .... Kristen Ward, Everest). I lucked myself into getting a ticket from KEXP for Telekinesis at their music lounge at noonish (a lucky turn of events, given later occupancy issues). They played a handful of songs and were damn good. I think I linked a KEXP performance of theirs in the post on the CHBP, so I'd direct your gaze down in that direction if you're inclined. The set was short, and left a bit of time before anything else that I had wanted to see.
So the next few hours were spent wandering and reacclimating to the locations of the various stages, food stands, etc... I caught a song by the Olympic Sound Collective at the Fisher Green Stage on my way by (decent, but didn't stand out enough to get me to stick for any more), and decided to head towards the Northwest Court Stage for the Not-Its.
The description that I had read indicated that they were punk. So with this bit of information in mind I rolled up to the stage. Two ladies and two fellas fleshed out the band. The lady-type folks were in pink tutu dealies. This of course was punk rock. In my mind. Not so much in reality. What I had failed to process from the write-up in the Stranger's Bumbershoot Guide was that members had been in punk bands in the past, but children, middle age, etc, etc.... had resulted in them playing some fucktarded brand of bubblegum punk for children. They were a kiddie punk rock band. Sing-a-long style. Calling out for the kids to perform dance type actions. There was no raging against machines here. No anarchy. Nothing of any substance. One song played and I hadn't quite had an aneurysm yet, so I decided not to press my luck, and hurried away from the stage towards the Broad Street Stage where Natalie Portman's Shaved Head was going on at 2:30.
Natalie Portman's Shaved Head didn't seem to have a very polished sound live, but they definitely had an energetic (read: great) show. They had a blast through the entire thing, and the crowd fed off that resulting in a happy happy bounce fest. And there was some kind of nautical theme going too. So happy happy sea captain-y bounce fest. Minus the scurvy, but plus a giant crowd surfing turtle. Hooray turtle!
Onwards the day went. This time I headed to the EMP Sky Church for Past Lives. Band bio wise, Past Lives apparently spawned out of the hardcore corpse of Blood Brothers. Not positive about this, but I'm pretty sure I saw Blood Brothers when I was going to UPS (and was far more hardcore - although, the next band up makes me feel way more hardcore now). All of this is likely besides the point, as I can't recall how I felt about the Blood Brothers if I in fact felt anything at all.
The new incarnation though is something that I can say tickles me in a way that is completely appropriate. Much like Feral Children last year, I ended up nodding along viciously. If there were a little person inside my head, it would have suffered an aggravated case of Shaken Baby Syndrome. If in fact they had CDs outside the venue, I would have purchased one immediately. Unfortunately, I never found the FYE booth associated with the Sky Church venue. So I didn't (but I will).
And then I had a brief intermission. Rather then go else where, and come back 30 minutes later for Akimbo, I just stayed in the Sky Church in between sets. I had a spot on the rail right in front of where the singer/bassist John Weisnewski was set up. Little details that stick out. On a piece of Weisnewski's equipment, a sticker that said I Love Lamp. The guitarist Aaron Walters reminds me of Judah Freilander (from 30 Rock), albeit way more ripped. And the drummer Nat Damm has a ridiculously amusing countenance. Also a lot of hair, which whips around like something alive as he beats his way through song after song. They finished their planned set list early and launched into a bunch of Black Flag covers to round out the time slot. Much like at the Capitol Hill Block Party, they smashed me in the face with their awesomeness.
Next up, Matt and Kim. Not quite sure what to expect here. I went in with very little in the way of expectations. The description in the Stranger's preview had been indicative of happy indie dance like things. Which I suppose was about spot on. The bit that really stood out for me were Kim's arms. She was the drummer in the drum and keyboard pair, and her arms definitely displayed a musculature that was intimidating. And as they flexed and strained through the powerful beats, she had this insane smile going. I was intrigued. Also, intimidated. I stuck around for a few songs. I feel sort of like this wasn't something that I'd get particularly worked up over, but wouldn't complain if I was bouncing around in a party like atmosphere with ladies of indie repute. I left early to see a folk singer Eleni Mandell and grab a beer over at the Northwest Court Stage. The beer was overpriced (and small) and the music was essentially the kind of thing that you'd catch in any coffee shop. The rain started up at this point and I huddled under an umbrella at a table in the beer garden through a song or two, before deciding that the meager protection of the table's umbrella wasn't worth hanging around for something I wasn't particularly enthused for. I headed towards the Main Stage.
The Main Stage on Saturday had both the Old 97s and Sheryl Crow. I was interested in seeing a bit of the Old 97s (not so much Sheryl Crow). I secured a seat in the stadium and waited for the set to start. An interesting bit. The crowd for the Old 97s was the smallest crowd that I saw for any of the main stage shows. The mass of people didn't even make it halfway back to the secondary barrier. The crowds at the Starbucks stage and the Broad Street Stage were larger for various shows. Which I suppose is a bit sad. Especially considering how good the Old 97s actually are. I was at the main stage for 5 or 6 songs. Rhett Miller is a fucking rock star. If Telekinesis weren't on at almost exactly the same time, I would have caught the entire set. But such was not the case.
And because I knew that the Sky Church was relatively small, I rushed over in its direction hoping to catch a longer set of Telekinesis. Alas, this was in vain. The venue was full. And I didn't get to see them. Instead, I found food, and drowned my sorrow in garlic fries. Basil Garlic Fries. Mmmm....
And I moved over to the Broad Street Stage for the last show of my night, The Long Winters. This was probably one of the best shows I saw all weekend. On top of the quality of the music, John Roderick is one hell of an amusing guy. I hadn't realized, but The Long Winters had apparently been on hiatus for a bit. The show at Bumbershoot marked their intent to put out a new album and start touring again. So, look forward to that in the near future. I got a call from Derek before things started up (he was over at PAX) and he said I should meet him and some of his friends for some beers at the Taphouse. I opted not to leave early, and said I'd meet them later. He said to call before heading over to see if they were still there. I said okay and through my phone in my pocket.
I singalong and all that fun stuff for over an hour and a half. When the set ends, I'm giddy. Minus The Long Winters, the day might have been much inferior. Instead, I'm ready for a beer or two with friends followed by a short night of sleep and another day of music.
I pull my phone out of my pocket to call Derek, and find it to be dead (I guess pictures and videos suck a lot of juice). Undaunted, I head to the Taphouse anyways. Or at least, in the direction that I think the Taphouse is (because Derek and Co. are operating without cars, I imagine that they're within walking distance of the convention center). I home in on its exact location using the valet of a hotel in the area. I wander about inside for a bit, and can't find them, so I sit down at the bar and grab a beer anyways. Then its back home, dog walking, etc...
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Music Forthcoming! Bumbershoot Three Day Pass, Take Two!
For the second year in a row, I've bullied myself into buying a three day pass to Bumbershoot. So, for the next few days, I'll be checking schedules, listening to random bits and pieces, crosschecking, collating, and dissecting the schedule in the hopes of giving myself some semblance of a game plan for the weekend.
The schedule doesn't seem quite as favorable this year (last year, I had no problems finding 12+ bands to see for all three days), but I'll be making some wild flailings in random directions to fill the days. Check back after the weekend (or possibly during the weekend...) for updates on who I saw, how they were.
The schedule doesn't seem quite as favorable this year (last year, I had no problems finding 12+ bands to see for all three days), but I'll be making some wild flailings in random directions to fill the days. Check back after the weekend (or possibly during the weekend...) for updates on who I saw, how they were.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Willfully Misdirected With A Chance of Broken Strings
An eventful weekend? Perhaps. After arranging dog sitting, I made my way northward to Seattle for Friday night/Saturday shenanigans in the city whose parking system hates me.
Friday was to be an afternoon of relaxing which led through the fiery pits of Wing Dome towards game night at Jared and Tessa's. I opted to try one of the level 7 wings at Wing Dome, which led to an extended period of watering eyes and complete lack of flavor on everything else I tasted for the next couple hours (not so bad for the tall boys of Rainier, more of a shame for the rest of the non-devil wings). Probably not going to do that again, as everything before that point seemed to taste great. Games went swimmingly, with Sommarstrom emerging victorious from a brutal game of Munchkin Cthulhu (I do believe I need to invest in the Munchkin games at some point. Always fun...).
The next morning started with a hangover, and my stomach protesting violently against the wing, which apparently had taken its sweet ass time to get there. I slept til 12pm with various false starts at getting up (consisting of me heading downstairs, grabbing water, sitting at my computer, and then deciding that another hour or so of sleep would do me good). Finally around noon I rolled out of bed for good, and watched the Sounders game with Sommarstrom and his mom.
The bands started playing at 2pm, but I stuck around through the end of the game and headed over to Capitol Hill at around 2:30. I missed the first round of music (including both Hey Marseilles and Awesome Color - whom I had wanted to see), but proceeded to have a grand time.
At the time I arrived, I wasn't sure if Hey Marseilles would still be on. So I wandered over to the Main Stage. It seemed like the next act had come on early (actually I think the sets were a lot shorter then I thought they would be), so I caught Moondoggies in the middle of the following:
I stuck through the one song (which I did in fact like), and headed towards The Pica Beats on the Vera stage. A pretty solid set with "Hope, Was Not a Family Tradition" and "Poor Old Raa" being the best of the lot. And here's a bit from the show. Courtesy of some enterprising camera wielding audience member.
The bass player amused me to no end. He kept rocking out too hard and knocking over the female singer's stuff. Too much glee in that one.
Next I strolled back to the Main Stage to catch The Pains of Being Pure at Heart. A solid set from them as well. I kept thinking that they were basically like The Cure. But happy. Also, the bass player reminded me of John Stamos. Also, one of my least pleasant memories. One of the songs, "High" to me sounded like the audio equivalent of a shattered stained glass window. Pretty at times, but flaying.
Again I cut out a bit early, to grab a drink at one of the bars in Neumo's and set up shop to see the stage for Akimbo. A gin and tonic took the edge off the heat, and I settled into the balcony above and to the left of the stage. Two songs in, and two words resonated through my head - "Fuck yeah." They rocked the hell out through the entirety of the 45 minute set. I found a few clips of them at the Block Party, but the sound quality really doesn't do them justice. So instead, head over here, and catch something of slightly better quality
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FpZ7VPyMRQ0
I headed out into the street, ears ringing and headed back to the Mainstage. This time, I caught a few songs from Pela. And for the life of me I can't remember much of them. I don't think I hung around for a whole bunch from them, as hunger started pushing its way to the forefront. I grabbed a pizza (nom nom nom!) and read at a cafe (an iced americano once again acting against the temperature) before heading back to the Mainstage for The Thermals.
Another good set. I had hoped for great, but time of day worked against them a bit. I was psyched for the two covers I heard ("Happy" from Nirvana, and "Basket Case" from Green Day). I think I'd definitely like to see them in a smaller venue. Or even not. Just not after a mid-afternoon energy crash.
I headed out of the crowd once more as the rain started to fall. Back to the cafe, where I grabbed another iced americano and, failing to find a seat inside, headed over to the Vera Stage to wait for Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros. I found a spot against the fence, and sat down with my book and coffee. And in a strange bit, someone with a camera came over and asked if I was really reading. Looking back down at the book and then back at her, I could only reply in the affirmative. She asked if she could take my picture reading, and I agreed, and got back to the book. She thanked me and headed off. No clue who she was with, but my bookishness appears to have put me in some random photo. Either for her book reading fetish website or some local paper. In either case, oddity.
Hur hum... Edward Sharpe then. Definitely another high point. Caffeinated and bemused, I tucked into a set that had accordions, backup singers, clapping, and a ridiculous energy. So weird, but so good. Posted this to Facebook already, but worth sharing again.
At the end of this set, I had one more stop. Sonic Youth. And I wish I had a bunch to say here, but I don't. The crowd was thick, people constantly trying to push through closer. I was packed in tight. Couldn't actually see the stage (thank you 6 foot plussers!). I spent most of my time joking with a girl that was shorter then me about visibility. That or on tip toes thinking that maybe, just maybe, I had seen the drummers hair through a crack between two heads. The music was good. Don't get me wrong about that. But the environment was a detriment. Again a different venue would have made a hell of a difference.
I headed out early. Hoping to beat the rush. I found my car, unticketed (surprise!) and found my way back to I-5. One more hiccup in the day. An accident, which apparently happened less then a quarter mile in front of me. The highway came to a stop. Emergency vehicles. People got out of their cars and walked towards the scene. We sat for an hour or so before they cleared a lane for people to go through (in the middle... there were cars on both the left and right side of the highway involved it seemed). I popped through eventually. Tacoma on the horizon. A bed to fall into. And sleep.
Friday was to be an afternoon of relaxing which led through the fiery pits of Wing Dome towards game night at Jared and Tessa's. I opted to try one of the level 7 wings at Wing Dome, which led to an extended period of watering eyes and complete lack of flavor on everything else I tasted for the next couple hours (not so bad for the tall boys of Rainier, more of a shame for the rest of the non-devil wings). Probably not going to do that again, as everything before that point seemed to taste great. Games went swimmingly, with Sommarstrom emerging victorious from a brutal game of Munchkin Cthulhu (I do believe I need to invest in the Munchkin games at some point. Always fun...).
The next morning started with a hangover, and my stomach protesting violently against the wing, which apparently had taken its sweet ass time to get there. I slept til 12pm with various false starts at getting up (consisting of me heading downstairs, grabbing water, sitting at my computer, and then deciding that another hour or so of sleep would do me good). Finally around noon I rolled out of bed for good, and watched the Sounders game with Sommarstrom and his mom.
The bands started playing at 2pm, but I stuck around through the end of the game and headed over to Capitol Hill at around 2:30. I missed the first round of music (including both Hey Marseilles and Awesome Color - whom I had wanted to see), but proceeded to have a grand time.
At the time I arrived, I wasn't sure if Hey Marseilles would still be on. So I wandered over to the Main Stage. It seemed like the next act had come on early (actually I think the sets were a lot shorter then I thought they would be), so I caught Moondoggies in the middle of the following:
I stuck through the one song (which I did in fact like), and headed towards The Pica Beats on the Vera stage. A pretty solid set with "Hope, Was Not a Family Tradition" and "Poor Old Raa" being the best of the lot. And here's a bit from the show. Courtesy of some enterprising camera wielding audience member.
The bass player amused me to no end. He kept rocking out too hard and knocking over the female singer's stuff. Too much glee in that one.
Next I strolled back to the Main Stage to catch The Pains of Being Pure at Heart. A solid set from them as well. I kept thinking that they were basically like The Cure. But happy. Also, the bass player reminded me of John Stamos. Also, one of my least pleasant memories. One of the songs, "High" to me sounded like the audio equivalent of a shattered stained glass window. Pretty at times, but flaying.
Again I cut out a bit early, to grab a drink at one of the bars in Neumo's and set up shop to see the stage for Akimbo. A gin and tonic took the edge off the heat, and I settled into the balcony above and to the left of the stage. Two songs in, and two words resonated through my head - "Fuck yeah." They rocked the hell out through the entirety of the 45 minute set. I found a few clips of them at the Block Party, but the sound quality really doesn't do them justice. So instead, head over here, and catch something of slightly better quality
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FpZ7VPyMRQ0
I headed out into the street, ears ringing and headed back to the Mainstage. This time, I caught a few songs from Pela. And for the life of me I can't remember much of them. I don't think I hung around for a whole bunch from them, as hunger started pushing its way to the forefront. I grabbed a pizza (nom nom nom!) and read at a cafe (an iced americano once again acting against the temperature) before heading back to the Mainstage for The Thermals.
Another good set. I had hoped for great, but time of day worked against them a bit. I was psyched for the two covers I heard ("Happy" from Nirvana, and "Basket Case" from Green Day). I think I'd definitely like to see them in a smaller venue. Or even not. Just not after a mid-afternoon energy crash.
I headed out of the crowd once more as the rain started to fall. Back to the cafe, where I grabbed another iced americano and, failing to find a seat inside, headed over to the Vera Stage to wait for Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros. I found a spot against the fence, and sat down with my book and coffee. And in a strange bit, someone with a camera came over and asked if I was really reading. Looking back down at the book and then back at her, I could only reply in the affirmative. She asked if she could take my picture reading, and I agreed, and got back to the book. She thanked me and headed off. No clue who she was with, but my bookishness appears to have put me in some random photo. Either for her book reading fetish website or some local paper. In either case, oddity.
Hur hum... Edward Sharpe then. Definitely another high point. Caffeinated and bemused, I tucked into a set that had accordions, backup singers, clapping, and a ridiculous energy. So weird, but so good. Posted this to Facebook already, but worth sharing again.
At the end of this set, I had one more stop. Sonic Youth. And I wish I had a bunch to say here, but I don't. The crowd was thick, people constantly trying to push through closer. I was packed in tight. Couldn't actually see the stage (thank you 6 foot plussers!). I spent most of my time joking with a girl that was shorter then me about visibility. That or on tip toes thinking that maybe, just maybe, I had seen the drummers hair through a crack between two heads. The music was good. Don't get me wrong about that. But the environment was a detriment. Again a different venue would have made a hell of a difference.
I headed out early. Hoping to beat the rush. I found my car, unticketed (surprise!) and found my way back to I-5. One more hiccup in the day. An accident, which apparently happened less then a quarter mile in front of me. The highway came to a stop. Emergency vehicles. People got out of their cars and walked towards the scene. We sat for an hour or so before they cleared a lane for people to go through (in the middle... there were cars on both the left and right side of the highway involved it seemed). I popped through eventually. Tacoma on the horizon. A bed to fall into. And sleep.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
A Little Bit More Music
Concert season, for me, appears to be starting. I had been relatively indifferent to the presence of the Capitol Hill Block Party in the past few years. I didn't really go looking, nor did anything about it jump out at me. This year however, I was presented with two reasons to go.
First, as I was tracking down some new music from a KEXP podcast, I caught wind on the band's website that they'd be playing at the Block Party. The band is The Thermals, a Portland outfit that made me dance around my apartment when I heard the song on the podcast ("Now We Can See" which is the title track on their new album). This alone was intriguing, but $23 for a band that I could see for a fraction of that?
Then #2 came along. An email from Sound Magazine with additional lineup details. And one band headlining that sealed it for me. Sonic Youth are hitting the Mainstage on Saturday. I had a single Sonic Youth album in high school, Dirty. It didn't really hit me particularly hard at the time. But times and tastes have changed, and Sonic Youth has staked out some brain space for itself.
Thus was my ticket purchased. I'll be heading up to Seattle on Saturday, and hope to catch the following:
Hey Marseilles
Awesome Color
The Pains of Being Pure at Heart
The Thermals
Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros
Sonic Youth
And of course there's some time spread out to wander and hear random bits and pieces.
First, as I was tracking down some new music from a KEXP podcast, I caught wind on the band's website that they'd be playing at the Block Party. The band is The Thermals, a Portland outfit that made me dance around my apartment when I heard the song on the podcast ("Now We Can See" which is the title track on their new album). This alone was intriguing, but $23 for a band that I could see for a fraction of that?
Then #2 came along. An email from Sound Magazine with additional lineup details. And one band headlining that sealed it for me. Sonic Youth are hitting the Mainstage on Saturday. I had a single Sonic Youth album in high school, Dirty. It didn't really hit me particularly hard at the time. But times and tastes have changed, and Sonic Youth has staked out some brain space for itself.
Thus was my ticket purchased. I'll be heading up to Seattle on Saturday, and hope to catch the following:
Hey Marseilles
Awesome Color
The Pains of Being Pure at Heart
The Thermals
Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros
Sonic Youth
And of course there's some time spread out to wander and hear random bits and pieces.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Extra! Extra! Noah Baumbach Movie More Awkward Then A Your Mom Joke at Your Mom's Funeral
Thanks to the inestimable Dinsky, I saw the movie Margot At The Wedding by Noah Baumbach yesterday. In a bit of strangeness, I apparently have never seen a Noah Baumbach movie. I am moved slightly to do so in the future (in regards to The Squid and the Whale and Kicking and Screaming), so as to get a better handle on his quirks and determine if the nature of Margot was an overarching trajectory of his writing and directing, or if it was simply a study in meta-awkwardness.
That phrase. Does it mean what I think it means in this case? My perception of the film as a whole was that on every level Baumbach sought to inject awkwardness. If that was his goal, he succeeded. Which could be genius. Or maybe it was unintentional. In which case its just poor writing, storytelling, filming, etc.... The real beauty is that you can't really tell. Even if I watch his other movies and see the same overarching sense of WTF developing, it could indicate a kind of artistic integrity. Or, once again, ineptitude. In any case. Awkwardness.
Individual lines would crackle with it (what would be the most fucked up word I can throw in to this one line).
Conversations were derailed with it (what one sentence could single-handedly cause this conversation to take a detour into awkward country - a place much like flavor country, but with far less puffing and cowboys, and more shoe gazing, shoulder hunching, and unavoidable silences).
Awkward family dynamic? Check. Not only is there an Oedipus complex thing going - I swear the thirteen (fourteen?) year old son got more facefuls of mom nipple then a breast feeding baby does in its first year of life. And, how often does a mom kiss her thirteen year old son on the lips? It appears to happen in almost every other scene here. At one point in the movie it looks like -for a moment- cousin love is blooming, and that shit looks rational and non-awkward compared to the other family stuff preceding it. Which is awkward in itself. To think that cousin love is less fucked up then the alternative? And that's just the sexual portion of it.
You also have the fucked up hyper-critical shit that Margot throws in her son's direction. My recollection of the movie has him crying once at the things that she's saying to him (although I think there's a bout of frustrated screaming in between train cars at the beginning - at the time presented it was so out of context that Maya asked whether we had missed something. Nope. They were just sitting silently on a train. He gets up. Heads between cars and starts screaming. Obviously he's got some issues. Which we find to be a truth fact as soon as his mom has her first line of dialog)
Awkwardly shot scenes? Check. At one point Margot is sharing a bed in a hotel with her sister, and it's framed as if the scene is going to devolve into the sisters making out. I asked Maya what the most awkward thing that could happen there would be and her response was indeed of the "I think they're going to make out" variety. But with the scene framed the way it was, that would be too much of the logical conclusion. Instead it lets you draw your own conclusion about what might be going down and then shifts in a different direction altogether.
Awkward pacing? Check. The narrative seems crafted to jump up and down in a way that keeps your eyebrows arched in perpetual what-the-fuckery.
Awkwardly ended? Of course. The ending is practically not an ending at all. It jumps at you at a surprising moment. When it happened, I knew it was the ending only because I asked myself, what would the most awkward way to end this be. The answer was of course if it cut to credits at that moment. And boom. Credits.
And despite all that, I can't say that it was awful. In fact, through the entire thing it kept me guessing at what the next source of awkwardness would be. And I felt a sense of self-gratification every time my answer to the question "What would make this more awkward?" actually manifested itself on the screen.
That phrase. Does it mean what I think it means in this case? My perception of the film as a whole was that on every level Baumbach sought to inject awkwardness. If that was his goal, he succeeded. Which could be genius. Or maybe it was unintentional. In which case its just poor writing, storytelling, filming, etc.... The real beauty is that you can't really tell. Even if I watch his other movies and see the same overarching sense of WTF developing, it could indicate a kind of artistic integrity. Or, once again, ineptitude. In any case. Awkwardness.
Individual lines would crackle with it (what would be the most fucked up word I can throw in to this one line).
Conversations were derailed with it (what one sentence could single-handedly cause this conversation to take a detour into awkward country - a place much like flavor country, but with far less puffing and cowboys, and more shoe gazing, shoulder hunching, and unavoidable silences).
Awkward family dynamic? Check. Not only is there an Oedipus complex thing going - I swear the thirteen (fourteen?) year old son got more facefuls of mom nipple then a breast feeding baby does in its first year of life. And, how often does a mom kiss her thirteen year old son on the lips? It appears to happen in almost every other scene here. At one point in the movie it looks like -for a moment- cousin love is blooming, and that shit looks rational and non-awkward compared to the other family stuff preceding it. Which is awkward in itself. To think that cousin love is less fucked up then the alternative? And that's just the sexual portion of it.
You also have the fucked up hyper-critical shit that Margot throws in her son's direction. My recollection of the movie has him crying once at the things that she's saying to him (although I think there's a bout of frustrated screaming in between train cars at the beginning - at the time presented it was so out of context that Maya asked whether we had missed something. Nope. They were just sitting silently on a train. He gets up. Heads between cars and starts screaming. Obviously he's got some issues. Which we find to be a truth fact as soon as his mom has her first line of dialog)
Awkwardly shot scenes? Check. At one point Margot is sharing a bed in a hotel with her sister, and it's framed as if the scene is going to devolve into the sisters making out. I asked Maya what the most awkward thing that could happen there would be and her response was indeed of the "I think they're going to make out" variety. But with the scene framed the way it was, that would be too much of the logical conclusion. Instead it lets you draw your own conclusion about what might be going down and then shifts in a different direction altogether.
Awkward pacing? Check. The narrative seems crafted to jump up and down in a way that keeps your eyebrows arched in perpetual what-the-fuckery.
Awkwardly ended? Of course. The ending is practically not an ending at all. It jumps at you at a surprising moment. When it happened, I knew it was the ending only because I asked myself, what would the most awkward way to end this be. The answer was of course if it cut to credits at that moment. And boom. Credits.
And despite all that, I can't say that it was awful. In fact, through the entire thing it kept me guessing at what the next source of awkwardness would be. And I felt a sense of self-gratification every time my answer to the question "What would make this more awkward?" actually manifested itself on the screen.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
I Am Not Ashamed
I have a confession to make. I. Was. A high-school metalhead. There. It's out in the open. Surprising. I know.
I suppose I should clarify. When I say that I was a high school metalhead, I must admit, that I was somewhat unlike other high school metalheads. I did not have a mullet. Nor did the recklessly defined curves of an IRocZ grace my drive way. Metal to me was not a lifestyle choice, but a musical one. So I listened to a lot of things that growled and grunted their way to some part of my brain that made me move my head up and down in a distinct banging motion. I even (heavens no!) went to a Metallica centric festival.
Towards the end of high school (and the beginning of college), the focus slowly shifted towards punk. The speed metal of Corrosion of Conformity (the first CoC albums I had were later albums, and had a more distinctly more melodic metal character. As I started buying their earlier stuff, I became aware of this particular facet of their "metalness") eased me into a very open place (albeit in a limited sense) musically, and to be frank, punk took advantage of me. I said no (not really), and it blasted through my brain anyways. The old Green Day tapes got replaced with CDs. I became familiar with Mr. T Experience. The Ataris. Ted Leo (still one of my favorites). Minor Threat. I was a punk/metal DJ at KUPS for four years, and failed to play any metal during that span. To have fallen so far....
And since then, things have moved further! Punk led to emo(ish) led to indie led to any number of things that I would have thrown anti-horns (anti-horns being the polar opposite to the horns that you see at a metal show. I suppose that would involve a single finger salute...) at in my raging high school metal days.
In any case. That's not the point of all this. The point is to reaffirm the metalness. Something that's popped up more in the past year or two. It seems that I've swung around full circle and am re embracing that particular part of my musical roots. But with a slight change. I seem to be more interested in the more cerebral metal. Odd time signatures. Complexity. Etc... Isis. Mastodon. Et. al.
And also a bit of hardcore. If you haven't heard Between The Buried and Me, it may be worth a listen. I'd be lying if I said that I had heard of them prior to randomly playing a song by them in Rock Band (the song was "Prequel to the Sequel"). It reminded me a lot of An Endless Sporadic which I heard (and loved) initially in Guitar Hero 3. But harder. And with growling.
I suppose I should clarify. When I say that I was a high school metalhead, I must admit, that I was somewhat unlike other high school metalheads. I did not have a mullet. Nor did the recklessly defined curves of an IRocZ grace my drive way. Metal to me was not a lifestyle choice, but a musical one. So I listened to a lot of things that growled and grunted their way to some part of my brain that made me move my head up and down in a distinct banging motion. I even (heavens no!) went to a Metallica centric festival.
Towards the end of high school (and the beginning of college), the focus slowly shifted towards punk. The speed metal of Corrosion of Conformity (the first CoC albums I had were later albums, and had a more distinctly more melodic metal character. As I started buying their earlier stuff, I became aware of this particular facet of their "metalness") eased me into a very open place (albeit in a limited sense) musically, and to be frank, punk took advantage of me. I said no (not really), and it blasted through my brain anyways. The old Green Day tapes got replaced with CDs. I became familiar with Mr. T Experience. The Ataris. Ted Leo (still one of my favorites). Minor Threat. I was a punk/metal DJ at KUPS for four years, and failed to play any metal during that span. To have fallen so far....
And since then, things have moved further! Punk led to emo(ish) led to indie led to any number of things that I would have thrown anti-horns (anti-horns being the polar opposite to the horns that you see at a metal show. I suppose that would involve a single finger salute...) at in my raging high school metal days.
In any case. That's not the point of all this. The point is to reaffirm the metalness. Something that's popped up more in the past year or two. It seems that I've swung around full circle and am re embracing that particular part of my musical roots. But with a slight change. I seem to be more interested in the more cerebral metal. Odd time signatures. Complexity. Etc... Isis. Mastodon. Et. al.
And also a bit of hardcore. If you haven't heard Between The Buried and Me, it may be worth a listen. I'd be lying if I said that I had heard of them prior to randomly playing a song by them in Rock Band (the song was "Prequel to the Sequel"). It reminded me a lot of An Endless Sporadic which I heard (and loved) initially in Guitar Hero 3. But harder. And with growling.
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