Thursday, September 25, 2008
You Can't Spell R-U-M-I-N-A-T-I-O-N Without Rum.
Very little sleep last night, and I've got three potential culprits. There were the two Americanos I had about three hours before I headed to bed. There was also the three hour nap that punctuated my afternoon... And there was also a stream of thought winding through the entire thing. So. My three choices are Caffeine, Sleep, or Thought. I'm going to say the nap was the primary mover and shaker of my sleep troubles. The caffeine was just an innocent bystander, while the thought was the logical following of lying awake in a dark room for three hours. So today, I'll lay waste to any thoughts of napping when I get home in favor of a night of deep, sound sleep.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
A Dischord of Symmetries
Things finally begin to settle in the new place. There's little necessary bits and pieces that are missing, but I'm at least starting to figure out what those little bits and pieces are. The largest piece to come together recently was the preparation of the hot tub for actual use.
For the past month, it's been a matter of getting everything unpacked, things organized, routines established, and preparation for Sectionals. On Sunday, after having returned from Burlington, I decided to spend some time getting acquainted with what needed to be done to get the hot tub operational (being sore, tired, and desirous of a soak in aforementioned hot tub was a great motivation for this). The first step, as I saw it, would be a matter of getting the hot tub clean. The owners of the house I'm living in had ignored the hot tub for a year, and this had allowed it to become a cold pool of floating odds and ends (an unlucky spider, long gone to Davy Jones locker, floated morosely along the bottom). I needed to drain the tub, scrub it, and refill it. Then the mystical process of treating it with whatever manner of chemicals such things need could begin.
My initial thought was that I was going to have to work with my land lord to start getting it siphoned, and then bail as much as was left with a bucket. Being home on a Sunday afternoon, with some time to kill, I thought I'd invest a little time with the bucket. Two bucket loads of water in, with no noticeable impact on the water level, I was discouraged. I needed some mechanical process to do the grunt work. I pulled up the benches in the sauna to start poking at the pump and the associated workings of the hot tub.
About a week before I had found that the water level could be raised by virtue of a pipe with a valve that was apparently tied into the house's inbound supply of water from the city. I traced the pipe into the pump and noticed what appeared to be a gate of some sort along the way with three settings. One went back towards the inbound pipe (this was where the switch was currently set). Another went directly into the pump. The third I traced further along to a set of pipes reminiscent of the U-bend in drains under sinks. This is where I decide to pursue a course of action that could either end up a) breaking the pump b) flooding my apartment c) do nothing or d) greatly speed the process of emptying the tub. I flipped the switch around to third position and watched. Simply setting the switch was not lowering the water. I found the switch for the pump and turned it on. Eureka! Suction! The hot tub's filter started sucking greedily at the water. In less then five minutes, the water was down past the filter, and continued to drain. Obviously one of the plastic bits down towards the bottom also acted in that capacity. In practically no time, the tub was empty.
Also, green. Evidently the year had not been kind to it. I grabbed some old towels to sop up the remaining water at the bottom. I stepped into the tub and slipped a bit on the film that seemed to cover everything. After sopping, I decide that I need to take a break from the chore.
I approach it again the next day (Monday). On my way home from work, I stop at a store that specializes in spas and wood stoves and speak with one of the folks there about the process of cleaning and balancing. Evidently, I just need to make a solution of water and whatever the tub is shocked clean with and scrub away. He also gives me a container to get a water sample to bring in, so they can help me figure out what chemicals I might be missing to get the hot tub going.
Once home, I slog back into battle with things foul, with the aid of a bucket and an over sized sponge. I scrub surfaces! I lustily throw about liquid death (for algae and what not), and don't stop til the surfaces of the hot tub are blue once more. My hands reek of chlorine, but another step in this cycle is done. I suck up any liquid that ends up in the bottom of the tub with a shop vac that I borrowed from a friend, and once everything is pristine, I flip the switch back into it's original position, turn the faucet on, and start filling the tub. It fills quickly with the cold water that's inbound. I grab a water sample and set it aside to bring to the store the next day (Tuesday).
Day 3 in my battle against the powers of filth and cold water is much simpler. I stop by the store and after about 20 minutes am sent on my way with 3 bottles of spa chemicals, and a list of instructions. I pour the specified amounts in, and leave the pump on for the first time. This should bring up the temperature, and bring the hot tub within the proper ranges of pH, alkalinity, etc... Now all that's left is to grab another water sample the next day, bring it by to figure out if any additional chemical tinkering is necessary and then tinker.
Today is the fourth day. I worked from home and at lunch headed over to the spa store with a water sample (which is now at a toasty 105 degrees, huzzah!). The guy at the store pulls out his various reagents and starts testing. 6 tests later, the water in the tub is said to be perfect (no more tinkering!) and I'm sent on my way with some maintenance instructions.
Once home, I head over into the hot tub/spa room, move the chemicals to a safe place (a closet that Lance won't get into. You know how young dogs are when bored and alone... They'll sniff, chew, or lick anything) and sink into the water for the first time. All the work from the past couple of days evaporates in a haze of heat, bubbles, and steam.
For the past month, it's been a matter of getting everything unpacked, things organized, routines established, and preparation for Sectionals. On Sunday, after having returned from Burlington, I decided to spend some time getting acquainted with what needed to be done to get the hot tub operational (being sore, tired, and desirous of a soak in aforementioned hot tub was a great motivation for this). The first step, as I saw it, would be a matter of getting the hot tub clean. The owners of the house I'm living in had ignored the hot tub for a year, and this had allowed it to become a cold pool of floating odds and ends (an unlucky spider, long gone to Davy Jones locker, floated morosely along the bottom). I needed to drain the tub, scrub it, and refill it. Then the mystical process of treating it with whatever manner of chemicals such things need could begin.
My initial thought was that I was going to have to work with my land lord to start getting it siphoned, and then bail as much as was left with a bucket. Being home on a Sunday afternoon, with some time to kill, I thought I'd invest a little time with the bucket. Two bucket loads of water in, with no noticeable impact on the water level, I was discouraged. I needed some mechanical process to do the grunt work. I pulled up the benches in the sauna to start poking at the pump and the associated workings of the hot tub.
About a week before I had found that the water level could be raised by virtue of a pipe with a valve that was apparently tied into the house's inbound supply of water from the city. I traced the pipe into the pump and noticed what appeared to be a gate of some sort along the way with three settings. One went back towards the inbound pipe (this was where the switch was currently set). Another went directly into the pump. The third I traced further along to a set of pipes reminiscent of the U-bend in drains under sinks. This is where I decide to pursue a course of action that could either end up a) breaking the pump b) flooding my apartment c) do nothing or d) greatly speed the process of emptying the tub. I flipped the switch around to third position and watched. Simply setting the switch was not lowering the water. I found the switch for the pump and turned it on. Eureka! Suction! The hot tub's filter started sucking greedily at the water. In less then five minutes, the water was down past the filter, and continued to drain. Obviously one of the plastic bits down towards the bottom also acted in that capacity. In practically no time, the tub was empty.
Also, green. Evidently the year had not been kind to it. I grabbed some old towels to sop up the remaining water at the bottom. I stepped into the tub and slipped a bit on the film that seemed to cover everything. After sopping, I decide that I need to take a break from the chore.
I approach it again the next day (Monday). On my way home from work, I stop at a store that specializes in spas and wood stoves and speak with one of the folks there about the process of cleaning and balancing. Evidently, I just need to make a solution of water and whatever the tub is shocked clean with and scrub away. He also gives me a container to get a water sample to bring in, so they can help me figure out what chemicals I might be missing to get the hot tub going.
Once home, I slog back into battle with things foul, with the aid of a bucket and an over sized sponge. I scrub surfaces! I lustily throw about liquid death (for algae and what not), and don't stop til the surfaces of the hot tub are blue once more. My hands reek of chlorine, but another step in this cycle is done. I suck up any liquid that ends up in the bottom of the tub with a shop vac that I borrowed from a friend, and once everything is pristine, I flip the switch back into it's original position, turn the faucet on, and start filling the tub. It fills quickly with the cold water that's inbound. I grab a water sample and set it aside to bring to the store the next day (Tuesday).
Day 3 in my battle against the powers of filth and cold water is much simpler. I stop by the store and after about 20 minutes am sent on my way with 3 bottles of spa chemicals, and a list of instructions. I pour the specified amounts in, and leave the pump on for the first time. This should bring up the temperature, and bring the hot tub within the proper ranges of pH, alkalinity, etc... Now all that's left is to grab another water sample the next day, bring it by to figure out if any additional chemical tinkering is necessary and then tinker.
Today is the fourth day. I worked from home and at lunch headed over to the spa store with a water sample (which is now at a toasty 105 degrees, huzzah!). The guy at the store pulls out his various reagents and starts testing. 6 tests later, the water in the tub is said to be perfect (no more tinkering!) and I'm sent on my way with some maintenance instructions.
Once home, I head over into the hot tub/spa room, move the chemicals to a safe place (a closet that Lance won't get into. You know how young dogs are when bored and alone... They'll sniff, chew, or lick anything) and sink into the water for the first time. All the work from the past couple of days evaporates in a haze of heat, bubbles, and steam.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Fickle, Fickle, Fickle!
So, I'm quickly finding that I need to change pace a little bit. As I started trying to dig into Emerson, I find myself losing traction. I need to throw a science/math/fiction curveball in to re-focus. So a trip to the Half-Price book store is upcoming. I've been meaning to read Neal Stephenson's The Baroque Cycle, so that may be up next.
But on to the meat. Quotes. After finishing Thoreau, I had two index cards, covered front and back with references to bits and pieces that I found quotable. And rather then retain a pair of index cards in perpetuity, digitization to commence. So on with that:
"Beware of all enterprises that require new clothes."
"To be devoured by the monsters that swarm all around him, while contemplating the monsters in a drop of vinegar."
"Our inventions are wont to be pretty toys, which distract our attention from serious things."
"This spending of the best part of one's life earning money in order to enjoy a questionable liberty during the least valuable part of it."
"The man who goes alone can start today; but he who travels with another must wait till that other is ready, and it may be a long time before they get off."
"Every man is tasked to make his life, even in its details, worthy of the contemplation of his most elevated and critical hour."
"Solitude is not measured by the miles f space that intervene between a man and his fellows."
"Not till we are lost, in other words not till we have lost the world, do we begin to find ourselves, and realize where we are and the infinite extent of our relations."
"Why should not a poet's cat be winged as well as his horse?"
"A farmer, a hunter, a soldier, a reporter, even a philosopher, may be daunted; but nothing can deter a poet, for he is actuated by pure love."
"Why is it that a bucket of water soon becomes putrid, but frozen remains sweet forever? It is commonly said that this is the difference between the affections and the intellect."
"We should be blessed if we lived in the present always, and took advantage of every accident that befell us ... and did not spend time in atoning for the neglect of past opportunities, which we call doing our duty."
"In a pleasant spring morning all men's sins are forgiven. Such a day is a truce to vice."
"The universe is wider then our views of it."
"Some can be patriotic who have no self-respect, and sacrifice the greater to the less."
"Rather than love, than money, than fame, give me truth."
"It requires more than a day's devotion to know and to possess the wealth of a day."
"What is it to be born free and not to live free? What is the value of any political freedom, but as a means to moral freedom? Is it a freedom to be slaves, or a freedom to be free, of which we boast?"
But on to the meat. Quotes. After finishing Thoreau, I had two index cards, covered front and back with references to bits and pieces that I found quotable. And rather then retain a pair of index cards in perpetuity, digitization to commence. So on with that:
"Beware of all enterprises that require new clothes."
"To be devoured by the monsters that swarm all around him, while contemplating the monsters in a drop of vinegar."
"Our inventions are wont to be pretty toys, which distract our attention from serious things."
"This spending of the best part of one's life earning money in order to enjoy a questionable liberty during the least valuable part of it."
"The man who goes alone can start today; but he who travels with another must wait till that other is ready, and it may be a long time before they get off."
"Every man is tasked to make his life, even in its details, worthy of the contemplation of his most elevated and critical hour."
"Solitude is not measured by the miles f space that intervene between a man and his fellows."
"Not till we are lost, in other words not till we have lost the world, do we begin to find ourselves, and realize where we are and the infinite extent of our relations."
"Why should not a poet's cat be winged as well as his horse?"
"A farmer, a hunter, a soldier, a reporter, even a philosopher, may be daunted; but nothing can deter a poet, for he is actuated by pure love."
"Why is it that a bucket of water soon becomes putrid, but frozen remains sweet forever? It is commonly said that this is the difference between the affections and the intellect."
"We should be blessed if we lived in the present always, and took advantage of every accident that befell us ... and did not spend time in atoning for the neglect of past opportunities, which we call doing our duty."
"In a pleasant spring morning all men's sins are forgiven. Such a day is a truce to vice."
"The universe is wider then our views of it."
"Some can be patriotic who have no self-respect, and sacrifice the greater to the less."
"Rather than love, than money, than fame, give me truth."
"It requires more than a day's devotion to know and to possess the wealth of a day."
"What is it to be born free and not to live free? What is the value of any political freedom, but as a means to moral freedom? Is it a freedom to be slaves, or a freedom to be free, of which we boast?"
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Spewing Quotes Like A Severed Artery
Finished Walden a little bit back, and I'll have some of those quotes to add when I get my bits of paper squared away, but in the mean time I've grabbed a few from Ralph Waldo Emerson as I start to read a book of his Essential Writings.
"All the world is taken in through the eyes, to reach the soul, where it becomes more, representative of a realm deeper than appearances: a realm ideal and sublime, the deep stillness that is..."
"The health of the eye seems to demand a horizon."
and one that I don't necessarily agree with:
"There is no object so foul that intense light will not make beautiful."
I'm not too far into Emerson yet, but am enjoying it thus far.
"All the world is taken in through the eyes, to reach the soul, where it becomes more, representative of a realm deeper than appearances: a realm ideal and sublime, the deep stillness that is..."
"The health of the eye seems to demand a horizon."
and one that I don't necessarily agree with:
"There is no object so foul that intense light will not make beautiful."
I'm not too far into Emerson yet, but am enjoying it thus far.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Bumbershoot. Day 3.
16 Bands. 2 t-shirts. 1 semi-riot. 1 Guitar Hero hat.
Bands Seen:
Head Like A Kite
Paramore
Monotonix
The Physics
The Offspring
Langhorne Slim & The War Eagles
Bedouin Soundclash
Two Gallants
J-Boogie's Dubtronic Science
Feral Children
Old 97s
Del The Funk Homo Sapien
Battles
Mike Doughty
Death Cab For Cutie
Minus The Bear
The mother lode of days. My friend Derek, who's been up in town for the Penny Arcade Expo, got a ticket for today, and has made it quite clear that he wants to hear at least 8 bands. I assure him, that such a task will be far easier then he imagines. The day starts a bit late. He set his alarm for 10pm (rather then am), and after getting back home the night before at about 2:30am, I hit the snooze button 15 or 16 times on my own alarm. We head out the door for Seattle about 11:00 and get parked and in the gate at about 12:10ish. I've been looking over the schedule and thought a good place to start would be the School of Rock: Northwest All-Stars. Apparently about half the folks in Seattle Center thought similarly and as we get to the EMP Sky Church, we're confronted by a line and a closed door. The house opened an hour ago, and the band is on, so this means that the venue's at capacity. With the line that's sitting there, we won't be getting into this one. So, we immediately turn around and head over to the Rock Star stage (with a quick stop at the booth to get tickets to the Main Stage in the evening - we hit the booth at a time that there wasn't a line, which was a first for me this weekend) to check out Chester French.
Somewhere along the way however, it appears that Chester French dropped from the lineup. As we're standing in the crowd waiting for them to come on the emcee comes up and introduces a band from San Francisco called Head Like A Kite. Apparently they got called some time the day before and drove through the night to come play at Bumbershoot. For a last minute acquisition, I was mighty impressed. The band was comprised of two guys: one sitting at a drum kit, and one moving from guitar to synth, to some other random bits and pieces. The music had a happy dance-fest vibe to it, that was much appreciated by the crowd. I enjoyed the hell out of it and we stuck around through the entire set.
Then we made our way towards the main stage to see Paramore (with a quick stop at the Guitar Hero: World Tour booth to get our RAWK on). Paramore was... angsty. Teen girl angsty. Looking down at the crowd, I was baffled at the presence of several mosh pits. Moshing? To this? About 3 or 4 songs in (all sounding quite similar) we decided to head off to grab some food and check out another act. I grabbed some African fare from the Horn of Africa booth (tasty!) and we headed over to the Fisher Green stage and caught a little bit of The Physics (NW hip hop) as we ate. Food consumed, an executive decision was made to head over to the Exhibition Hall to check out Monotonix, which was billed as an Israeli band that put on an amazing live show. On the way in, I ran into Dustin, a guy that's been coming out to Tacoma pickup this past summer/winter. He's a writer for a blog called The Consequence of Sound I found out, so he's got press credentials to wander about with.
To say that Monotonix puts on a "great live show" is somewhat of an understatement. A more accurate representation would be to say that they put on a great riot set to some killer music. Whereas every other band was setup on stage, Monotonix eschewed this formula and set themselves up on the floor of the exhibition hall. And not front in center, but right square in the middle. The crowd pressed in tight around them, radiating outwards. Near the center, you could see a handful of folks with their cameras in the air, aimed down at the action, recording video and snapping photos furiously. I could hear drums, but couldn't see the drummer. I was made aware of the singer as he prompted the crowd to lift him and sang as he crowd surfed. Then he gestured for a trash barrel, hopped inside and had the crowd surf him around in that for a bit (it fell, he hopped out, and kept going full steam). Then, guitarist was lifted atop the crowd, ripping through a solo while aloft. About three or four songs into the set (10-15 minutes), an event official hopped up on stage and cut the set short, and indicated that the crowd needed to disburse. A wave of one finger salutes were thrown up and things got a bit cagey until the singer hopped up on stage and in broken English apologized for the short set and let the crowd know that they were fantastic. The rambling, broken speech that the singer got into lasted about as long as the set did. We got herded towards the exit, and I promptly bought a Monotonix shirt. I need to see this band in a venue that is a little bit more .... open minded...?
We headed back to catch a little bit more of The Physics, and around 3:10pm, headed towards the main stage to see The Offspring. I've seen The Offspring before, and they put on a great show on both occasions. The crowd were packed in tight up near the barrier as they walked on to the stage. As they launched into their first song, the crowd erupted into a writhing mass. Circle pits spontaneously forming, nebulizing off into other areas. Hoses were pulled out a couple songs in and the crowd was sprayed down. At one point, a kid in a wheel chair got crowd surfed (in his wheel chair!). After that song was done, the band indicated that that was the most awesome crowd surfer they had ever seen. I would have to agree on that one. Their set was a solid mix of old songs (Bad Habit, Gotta Get Away, Self Esteem) and some of the new stuff (You're Gonna Go Far, Kid). We left towards the middle/end of the set to catch a little bit of Langhorne Slim and the War Eagles at the Starbucks stage.
We arrived for the last three songs of the Langhorne Slim set, and the little that I heard was good. He had a great rapport with the audience, and had some free form conversations during portions of the songs. After his set finished, we headed over to the Fisher Green stage to check out the Bedouin Soundclash, who apparently had gotten a Juno in 2006 for best new band of the year. The lawn area was full, so we pulled out our IDs and headed into the beer garden area, and spluttered through an awful tasting $7 beer (a bit skunky, and a small portion. Everything could possibly hope for when paying out the ass for a beer). The band was not good. Not particularly original and pretty blah stage performance. This called for an immediate chug and hasty exit.
We headed over to the Rockstar Stage once more to see Two Gallants (from the Bumbershoot web site write up - "combine American folk, country, and blues with an undeniably punk rock energy"). Not impressed by this one. I had high hopes based on the description, but didn't find them to live up to the whole "punk rock energy" thing. Also, I think one of their songs was essentially about being a big douche bag (although the whiny, slur made it a bit hard to tell).
We leave to head over to J-Boogie's Dubtronic Science, who put on a nice show. We sit down and take the opportunity to recuperate after the first half of the day. At this point, it's about 6pm, and we've exceeded Derek's goal of 8 bands. And we still have half a day to go.
Next up on the agenda is Feral Children in the EMP Sky Church. Thwarted at our earlier attempt to get in, we show up about 10 minutes early and find the venue to already be near capacity. We grab a spot near the back edge and slowly work our way in closer to the stage. The band comes on and the drums are front and center. Two sets in fact. The singer stands at one set, and the drummer at the other. They launch into their set and remind me a lot of early Modest Mouse. Another high point in the weekend, an we stick through almost the entire set. One of the best bands I've seen this weekend. As we leave, I buy another T-shirt.
The Old 97s! One of the bands that I've wanted to catch live for awhile! We get to the stage a bit late (their set overlaps with Feral Children) and find some real estate to occupy. The show is solid, and I hear a bunch of songs that I like, but after the energy of the previous show, it's a bit anticlimactic. Food is eaten, and another trip made to the Fisher Green Stage.
This time, Del The Funky Homo Sapien. I swear he makes a reference to "rhyming like a nocerous". Is Flight of the Conchords so pervasive? Or is Del independently getting there? This one is a quick stop for us. We head back towards the Rockstar Stage after a couple songs to here Battles.
Battles is math-rock. Or so says the information guide. If so, then I need to check out more math rock. They were fantastic. And definitely helped by the group of generous folks next to us who had sneaked in a bottle of whiskey. A few swigs later, and I'm feeling a nice warmth spreading through my chest while listening to some great music. We stick through the rest of the set (I had planned on checking out Sondre Lerche, but that stage was distant and the music here was good), and then head over to the Starbucks Stage for Mike Doughty.
Mike Doughty was just taking the stage as we arrived. He launched into his first song, and I knew immediately that we would be heading to another stage shortly. This felt a little bit too much like a low rent Dave Matthews. I'm not an immense fan of Dave, and Mike just wasn't doing it for me either. We gave him the benefit of the doubt and stuck through about 3 songs, but it didn't get much better. We moved on. To the main stage.
Death Cab for Cutie were next on our list. We hit the stadium and grabbed a seat. The stands were packed and we ended up pretty high up off to the left of the stage. They were solid, although much like STP I felt that the stage show was a bit off kilter from what they were playing. The band was jumping and moving like they were playing some intensely fast thrashcore. Which was not the case. And Ben Gibbard had this odd retreat and attack thing going on with the microphone. He'd throw some words into the microphone, then take 3 quick steps back with his head down as he played guitar, and then slide back up to microphone like a snake attacking a mouse. This was repeated over and over again through all of the songs we were there for.
We left after about 25-30 minutes to go see the last band of the day/Bumbershoot, Minus the Bear. When I was initially checking the line up for Bumbershoot, this was the show on Monday that I most anticipated. And I can happily say that I wasn't disappointed in the least. The set was satisfyingly long and the venue wasn't overly packed (back at the Rockstar Stage). This was the perfect way to end the festival.
It was close to an exit, so after it was over, we headed out without a whole lot of foot traffic obstructing us (Death Cab was on the other side of Seattle Center). We walked the 7 or 8 blocks to the car, hopped in, and started the drive back to Tacoma. We got home around 12. I had to get up for work the next day at 4:30am. Fuck it. A beer was needed to wind down on a hell of a weekend.
Bands Seen:
Head Like A Kite
Paramore
Monotonix
The Physics
The Offspring
Langhorne Slim & The War Eagles
Bedouin Soundclash
Two Gallants
J-Boogie's Dubtronic Science
Feral Children
Old 97s
Del The Funk Homo Sapien
Battles
Mike Doughty
Death Cab For Cutie
Minus The Bear
The mother lode of days. My friend Derek, who's been up in town for the Penny Arcade Expo, got a ticket for today, and has made it quite clear that he wants to hear at least 8 bands. I assure him, that such a task will be far easier then he imagines. The day starts a bit late. He set his alarm for 10pm (rather then am), and after getting back home the night before at about 2:30am, I hit the snooze button 15 or 16 times on my own alarm. We head out the door for Seattle about 11:00 and get parked and in the gate at about 12:10ish. I've been looking over the schedule and thought a good place to start would be the School of Rock: Northwest All-Stars. Apparently about half the folks in Seattle Center thought similarly and as we get to the EMP Sky Church, we're confronted by a line and a closed door. The house opened an hour ago, and the band is on, so this means that the venue's at capacity. With the line that's sitting there, we won't be getting into this one. So, we immediately turn around and head over to the Rock Star stage (with a quick stop at the booth to get tickets to the Main Stage in the evening - we hit the booth at a time that there wasn't a line, which was a first for me this weekend) to check out Chester French.
Somewhere along the way however, it appears that Chester French dropped from the lineup. As we're standing in the crowd waiting for them to come on the emcee comes up and introduces a band from San Francisco called Head Like A Kite. Apparently they got called some time the day before and drove through the night to come play at Bumbershoot. For a last minute acquisition, I was mighty impressed. The band was comprised of two guys: one sitting at a drum kit, and one moving from guitar to synth, to some other random bits and pieces. The music had a happy dance-fest vibe to it, that was much appreciated by the crowd. I enjoyed the hell out of it and we stuck around through the entire set.
Then we made our way towards the main stage to see Paramore (with a quick stop at the Guitar Hero: World Tour booth to get our RAWK on). Paramore was... angsty. Teen girl angsty. Looking down at the crowd, I was baffled at the presence of several mosh pits. Moshing? To this? About 3 or 4 songs in (all sounding quite similar) we decided to head off to grab some food and check out another act. I grabbed some African fare from the Horn of Africa booth (tasty!) and we headed over to the Fisher Green stage and caught a little bit of The Physics (NW hip hop) as we ate. Food consumed, an executive decision was made to head over to the Exhibition Hall to check out Monotonix, which was billed as an Israeli band that put on an amazing live show. On the way in, I ran into Dustin, a guy that's been coming out to Tacoma pickup this past summer/winter. He's a writer for a blog called The Consequence of Sound I found out, so he's got press credentials to wander about with.
To say that Monotonix puts on a "great live show" is somewhat of an understatement. A more accurate representation would be to say that they put on a great riot set to some killer music. Whereas every other band was setup on stage, Monotonix eschewed this formula and set themselves up on the floor of the exhibition hall. And not front in center, but right square in the middle. The crowd pressed in tight around them, radiating outwards. Near the center, you could see a handful of folks with their cameras in the air, aimed down at the action, recording video and snapping photos furiously. I could hear drums, but couldn't see the drummer. I was made aware of the singer as he prompted the crowd to lift him and sang as he crowd surfed. Then he gestured for a trash barrel, hopped inside and had the crowd surf him around in that for a bit (it fell, he hopped out, and kept going full steam). Then, guitarist was lifted atop the crowd, ripping through a solo while aloft. About three or four songs into the set (10-15 minutes), an event official hopped up on stage and cut the set short, and indicated that the crowd needed to disburse. A wave of one finger salutes were thrown up and things got a bit cagey until the singer hopped up on stage and in broken English apologized for the short set and let the crowd know that they were fantastic. The rambling, broken speech that the singer got into lasted about as long as the set did. We got herded towards the exit, and I promptly bought a Monotonix shirt. I need to see this band in a venue that is a little bit more .... open minded...?
We headed back to catch a little bit more of The Physics, and around 3:10pm, headed towards the main stage to see The Offspring. I've seen The Offspring before, and they put on a great show on both occasions. The crowd were packed in tight up near the barrier as they walked on to the stage. As they launched into their first song, the crowd erupted into a writhing mass. Circle pits spontaneously forming, nebulizing off into other areas. Hoses were pulled out a couple songs in and the crowd was sprayed down. At one point, a kid in a wheel chair got crowd surfed (in his wheel chair!). After that song was done, the band indicated that that was the most awesome crowd surfer they had ever seen. I would have to agree on that one. Their set was a solid mix of old songs (Bad Habit, Gotta Get Away, Self Esteem) and some of the new stuff (You're Gonna Go Far, Kid). We left towards the middle/end of the set to catch a little bit of Langhorne Slim and the War Eagles at the Starbucks stage.
We arrived for the last three songs of the Langhorne Slim set, and the little that I heard was good. He had a great rapport with the audience, and had some free form conversations during portions of the songs. After his set finished, we headed over to the Fisher Green stage to check out the Bedouin Soundclash, who apparently had gotten a Juno in 2006 for best new band of the year. The lawn area was full, so we pulled out our IDs and headed into the beer garden area, and spluttered through an awful tasting $7 beer (a bit skunky, and a small portion. Everything could possibly hope for when paying out the ass for a beer). The band was not good. Not particularly original and pretty blah stage performance. This called for an immediate chug and hasty exit.
We headed over to the Rockstar Stage once more to see Two Gallants (from the Bumbershoot web site write up - "combine American folk, country, and blues with an undeniably punk rock energy"). Not impressed by this one. I had high hopes based on the description, but didn't find them to live up to the whole "punk rock energy" thing. Also, I think one of their songs was essentially about being a big douche bag (although the whiny, slur made it a bit hard to tell).
We leave to head over to J-Boogie's Dubtronic Science, who put on a nice show. We sit down and take the opportunity to recuperate after the first half of the day. At this point, it's about 6pm, and we've exceeded Derek's goal of 8 bands. And we still have half a day to go.
Next up on the agenda is Feral Children in the EMP Sky Church. Thwarted at our earlier attempt to get in, we show up about 10 minutes early and find the venue to already be near capacity. We grab a spot near the back edge and slowly work our way in closer to the stage. The band comes on and the drums are front and center. Two sets in fact. The singer stands at one set, and the drummer at the other. They launch into their set and remind me a lot of early Modest Mouse. Another high point in the weekend, an we stick through almost the entire set. One of the best bands I've seen this weekend. As we leave, I buy another T-shirt.
The Old 97s! One of the bands that I've wanted to catch live for awhile! We get to the stage a bit late (their set overlaps with Feral Children) and find some real estate to occupy. The show is solid, and I hear a bunch of songs that I like, but after the energy of the previous show, it's a bit anticlimactic. Food is eaten, and another trip made to the Fisher Green Stage.
This time, Del The Funky Homo Sapien. I swear he makes a reference to "rhyming like a nocerous". Is Flight of the Conchords so pervasive? Or is Del independently getting there? This one is a quick stop for us. We head back towards the Rockstar Stage after a couple songs to here Battles.
Battles is math-rock. Or so says the information guide. If so, then I need to check out more math rock. They were fantastic. And definitely helped by the group of generous folks next to us who had sneaked in a bottle of whiskey. A few swigs later, and I'm feeling a nice warmth spreading through my chest while listening to some great music. We stick through the rest of the set (I had planned on checking out Sondre Lerche, but that stage was distant and the music here was good), and then head over to the Starbucks Stage for Mike Doughty.
Mike Doughty was just taking the stage as we arrived. He launched into his first song, and I knew immediately that we would be heading to another stage shortly. This felt a little bit too much like a low rent Dave Matthews. I'm not an immense fan of Dave, and Mike just wasn't doing it for me either. We gave him the benefit of the doubt and stuck through about 3 songs, but it didn't get much better. We moved on. To the main stage.
Death Cab for Cutie were next on our list. We hit the stadium and grabbed a seat. The stands were packed and we ended up pretty high up off to the left of the stage. They were solid, although much like STP I felt that the stage show was a bit off kilter from what they were playing. The band was jumping and moving like they were playing some intensely fast thrashcore. Which was not the case. And Ben Gibbard had this odd retreat and attack thing going on with the microphone. He'd throw some words into the microphone, then take 3 quick steps back with his head down as he played guitar, and then slide back up to microphone like a snake attacking a mouse. This was repeated over and over again through all of the songs we were there for.
We left after about 25-30 minutes to go see the last band of the day/Bumbershoot, Minus the Bear. When I was initially checking the line up for Bumbershoot, this was the show on Monday that I most anticipated. And I can happily say that I wasn't disappointed in the least. The set was satisfyingly long and the venue wasn't overly packed (back at the Rockstar Stage). This was the perfect way to end the festival.
It was close to an exit, so after it was over, we headed out without a whole lot of foot traffic obstructing us (Death Cab was on the other side of Seattle Center). We walked the 7 or 8 blocks to the car, hopped in, and started the drive back to Tacoma. We got home around 12. I had to get up for work the next day at 4:30am. Fuck it. A beer was needed to wind down on a hell of a weekend.
Bumbershoot. Day 2.
11 Bands. 1 Comedy show.
Bands Seen:
The Lonely H
Sage
Matt Jorgensen +451
The Blakes
The Tripwires
Howlin Rain
These Arms Are Snakes
Speaker Speaker
The Black Keys
Stone Temple Pilots
Tapes 'n Tapes
Comedy Show:
Michele Buteau
Janeane Garofalo
A different mode of transportation! As I had a friend crashing at my place, and he happened to borrow a car from his grandparents, and also was headed to Seattle (for Penny Arcade Expo in his case), I decided to do the noble thing and let him drive (for the sake of the planet and all that...). The Penny Arcade Expo was at the Convention Center in the middle of downtown Seattle, so I was still a short hop away from my destination. I walked down to third avenue and hopped a bus down to the Seattle Center. Time of Arrival: around 10:30am. Which meant I had a half hour to kill. I set myself in line (which already had stretched halfway down the block on near the Pacific Science Center, and pulled out Cryptonomicon, the book I had brought in anticipation of this excess bit of time available.
For those unfamiliar, Cryptonomicon is a rangy book that spans three narratives concerning 1) a World War 2 cryptanalyst, 2) a marine in a detachment that is created to protect the secret that particular enemy codes have been broken, and 3) a 20th Century tech start up involving the grandson of #1. Part war story, part primer on information theory, part treasure hunting adventure. And all of it's wrapped together that makes a math nerd squeal in delight. Unfortunately all this bound amazingness comes in an 1100 page package that would weigh down my pocket all day. Despite it's size, I'd highly recommend it though. Maybe not as festival going fare, but Neal Stephenson tells a mean story (see Snow Crash...).
The gates open, and the line gets moving. I'm swept inside with about an hour and a half to kill before the first band goes on. Luckily, I have two tasks to initially keep me occupied.
The first, is to get a ticket to one of the comedy shows. In particular, I had seen that Zach Galifinakis had pulled out, and I thought I had seen a reference to David Cross replacing him on Saturday. These tickets are handed out at a booth in the middle of the festival grounds, and I hurried in that direction, to be confronted with another impressive demonstration of queueing power. No reading here however, as the line moves efficiently forward. A mark of a sharpie on my ticket, and I'm guaranteed a spot in a show featuring Michelle Buteau and Janeane Garofalo (either David Cross only did the one day, or I misread).
Number two on my list is to get a main stage pass for the evening. Day two boasts both The Black Keys and Stone Temple Pilots on the main stage for Sunday night. Again, a brief walk, followed by an efficient line. I am spat out of the entire preparation process with my main stage pass and comedy show ticket in tow over by the EMP Sky Church venue (which is where the first band I'll be seeing is getting set up). The time is now 11:30. One hour til showtime. I grab a slab of concrete, pull out my book, and pray that the 30% chance of showers that I had seen in the forecast doesn't construct itself into reality.
The sky maintained its composure (although a few drops leaped to their dooms, they thankfully proved to be exceptions). About five minutes before the show, I headed into the venue and caught some rail space for The Lonely H. The entire band looked to be in high school (or just barely out of), but were decked out in full 70s rock star regalia. As they took the stage and launched into their first song, all I could think was that the 70s had thrown up on stage, and it was a good thing. Lots of energy from these guys. Everything that I like about classic hard rock wrapped into a shiny new veneer. I headed out about a forty-five minutes into their set to get over to the Rock Star Stage to check out a band called Sage.
Sage, per the event description, was a band reminiscent of the Red Hot Chili Peppers. I didn't entirely see the similarity, but they were a solid act. This was the band that I had thought I was going to start my day with, but their set was offset from that of The Lonely H by fifteen minutes giving me an opportunity to see both. And to their detriment, The Lonely H put on a hell of a show, which made the low key nature of their set seem a bit less impressive then it likely was.
Next up were comedians! In a theatre! I crossed the Seattle Center grounds to see a massive line in front of the theatre. Assuming default sheep demeanor, I hopped in and proceeded to stand. I got in the line 15 minutes before the show (which was supposed to start seating a half hour before the show) and proceeded to stand in one spot for the next 10 minutes. Something did not seem right...
The general mechanic for the comedy shows is apparently such. They distribute a finite number of tickets from the Comedy Pass booth every morning. These tickets fill up some percentage of the seats. In addition, a Standby line is formed at the entrance to the venue. Anybody can stand in the Standby line and gets the opportunity to fill one of the remaining seats. Once the seats are filled they tell the rest of the line to go to hell and all is dandy in the world of the comedy stage. Now when I arrived at the front of the theater, a sign was displayed near the venue saying that the entrance was in such a direction (which the line was originating from) and the exit was in another direction. After 10 minutes, I became suspicious. I hopped out of line (even if it was the ticket holder line, I was guaranteed a spot by the shiny piece of paper in my pocket) and headed towards the entrance along the side of the line to talk to one of the Bumbershoot staff folks.
As it turns out, a second line did exist for people with tickets, but this line had disappeared inside far earlier then I had arrived. The Standby line had thickened into a mass that obscured where this line had been. The staff folks walked me through the line of Standby people into the cool interior of the theatre. Having dodged that bullet, I made my way to a seat, and prepared for the show. The emcee came on, joked for about 10 minutes (introducing the phrase, "I was so excited, I Bumbershit my pants...") and introduced the first comedienne. Michele Buteau was from New York and her act had a primarily sexual bent. Amusing and also charming. Then it's time for Janeane. She comes on and starts immediately with politics. She is a seething ball of anti-conservative rage and most of her act is political satire laced with diatribes. In the middle of her act, a group of four or five folks stand up and leave saying loudly that they came "for comedy, not for politics". Did they not know who they were getting in to see? Janeane was on Air America! She's in the Satiristas show (at Bumbershoot), which is entirely political humor. She is the female liberal foil to whatever white male conservative dares to grace the airwaves. And on top of all this, we're in the middle of an election year! To assume that she's going to make nice about politics is possibly the least informed thought that you could have. And living in Western Washington, you have to expect a lot of yes-men for this type of thing (there was a lot whistling, clapping, and loud displays of agreement as she went through her bit. This was not a particularly conservative audience)
The walk out shakes her a bit. She falls back to some other topics, trying to get her feet under her. Babies (and her non-desire for them). Marriage (and her non-desire to be engaged in such). Then family. And this leads her back. Her dad is apparently conservative, so arguments come up, and she's right back into the flow of political satire. She does go off the crazy conspiracy end for a bit ("every cell phone, even if it's turned off allows the government to track your usage of certain words..."). As a whole I enjoy it thoroughly (although, as usual find that all political discourse comes down to a stark us vs. them breakdown, that's more invective then truthful representation).
Comedy show done, I head over to the Wells Fargo for some Northwest Jazz. The hectic artist to artist jumping portion of my day is about to begin. Matt Jorgensen +451 is a good band to ramp up for this. It eases me back into the music side of things and gives me a chance to grab some food sit down and masticate like a champ (jazz is approved by 5 out of 6 professional masticators for post-comedy mastications).
Then, a quick trip into the Exhibition Hall to see The Blakes. The Blakes were a solid entertaining group. Not quite on par with the high points on my weekend thus far (Beck, Throw Me The Statue, PWRFL Power), but definitely avoiding the basement. Now a jaunt over to the Sky Church again for The Tripwires, a band that is supposed to be "Beatles-esque". I don't get any of this vibe from them, and leave after two or three songs. I got more of a "bastard love child of the Cherry Popping Daddies and Sum 41" kind of thing out of it.
In any case, this sits lowest in my evaluation of the day until I arrive over at the Rockstar Stage to hear Howlin' Rain. And to borrow a phrase from earlier, it's like the 70s threw up on stage. This time though, it's not in a good way. I get the feeling that this group of guys has actually been playing together since the late 60s/early 70s. And where they didn't get huge initially (because they had X number of immensely talented psychedelia/funk/arena rock bands at the time), through a sheer battle of attrition, they have gotten to the point where the world demands Y number of psychedelia/funk/arena rock bands and they happen to be #Y on the list. I sit around for a bit (as there is a distinct lack of other things to check out in the next half hour) and get some more reading done.
As 5:00 pm rolls around I get up and head back towards the Exhibition Hall to see These Arms Are Snakes. I enter to see the singer shirtless, with the microphone wrapped around his neck, leaping around as if possessed. Hardcore. Indeed. This is the first show of the weekend where I see the band (actually just the singer) get down on the floor and interact with the crowd. He climbs the little barricade and hops out into the crowd for a bit of crowd surfing. The sound is schizophrenic. And I dig. 45 minutes of crazy later and I'm back outside with a half hour to kill before Speaker Speaker comes on at the Sky Church. I snack on free samples and then find a bargain in terms of food. A plate of basmati rice with Alo Chole (potatoes and garbanzo beans) from a booth serving up Indian food. With the addition of a Mango Lemonade, I'm ready to roll.
The information guide for the festival indicates that Speaker Speaker is a brand of pop-punk that is sonically close kin with Ted Leo (one of my favorite artists). Now this sets an expectation. And the expectation is the baseline for comparison. And this becomes a hurdle in the way of my enjoyment. The band plays well. They're definitely into their set and having a good time up on stage. I'm on the rail on the side of the stage that they come up from, and I hear the pre-show banter with some of the crowd they know. Talking about the show they had a week ago where 8 people were there (they had fun though!). MarioKart (I'm gonna bring those sparks!). But they aren't Ted Leo. More along the lines of The Ataris. And my dilemma here is that I've come in expecting Ted Leo, and gotten The Ataris instead. This is a bait and switch that leaves me a bit dissatisfied. I'm starting to think at this point that the informative little summaries of the bands are less then helpful for me. This realization comes a bit late though. I know the next three bands, and have known them for a significant portion of time prior to Bumbershoot.
Next in my schedule is Jakob Dylan, formerly of The Wallflowers. I get to the stage, look at the packed, shoulder to shoulder crowd, and decide immediately that I'd rather find some prime real estate for The Black Keys and Stone Temple Pilots then stick around. And given my anticipated proximity to the stage, I'm going to try and get out of the Stone Temple Pilots set early in order to catch a few songs by Final Fantasy and Tapes 'n Tapes.
More reading commences as I wait the half hour for The Black Keys to come on. The Black Keys are spectacular. There's only two of them, so they don't physically fill the space they've been given (the Main Stage is large), but their sound is huge and crunchy. The set goes by quickly. I'm in disbelief that an hour could pass that fast. T-minus thirty minutes until Stone Temple Pilots come on. The book comes out, and I read by cell phone light in the quickly fading half-light.
9:15 comes around. The filler song playing through the house system ends. There's a few second pause and the crowd noise swells in anticipation. Then, another song comes over the house system. The crowd subsides back to it's default dull roar. The song ends and goes quiet. 6 seconds. 7 seconds. This has got to be it! The crowd lets the decibel level climb again. And then another song from the house system. The false starts keep happening for about a half hour. The Stone Temple Pilots were supposed to be on at 9:15 and it's 9:20. 9:25. 9:30. 9:35. Around me the crowd thinks that it's got to be something with Scott Weiland. He's drunk. Throw some water on his ass and get him out here. No, he's back on heroin. He OD'd. A tour bus rolls in around 9:35ish. 10 minutes later STP takes the stage.
The music rocks. It rattles, jumps, and hisses. Lounge Fly, Creep, Vaseline, ...! I'm solidly gripped by it all (Purple was the first or second CD that I ever owned). One bit of eh? here. As the music is sonically pummeling the front rows of the audience, he sings and moves around. But it's almost like he's in the middle of an interpretive dance. He's moving at a different speed and level of intensity then everything around him.
I pop out of the set after 8 or 9 songs and head over towards the Wells Fargo stage to see if Final Fantasy is still on. He is not. I head in the opposite direction to catch the tail end of the Tapes 'n Tapes set. Happily I'm there for about 3 songs before their set ends. A good stage presence and some great songs leave me with some warm fuzzies at the end of day 2.
My friend is still up in Seattle, so I give him a call and meet him at a 7-11 near the Seattle Center. It's 11pm. Tomorrow's a holiday, and he's got a pair of friends in the car from Victoria. We head to Dick's to put a food cap on the evening. One Dick's Deluxe, fries, and milk shake later and all of a sudden the night needs some drinks. We drive around downtown Seattle looking for some parking. We abortively attempt to park in a garage and leave when we find out that they close in five minutes. Time is starting to dwindle til last call hours. We head back to the hotel that the Canadians are staying at. Parking here is on site, so we get inside the parking garage and start spiraling up looking for a spot. We head past reserved spaces aplenty. Then the handicap spaces pop up.
"Wait," I say, "This is your grandparents car." I look up in the visor, and sure enough, a handicap permit is present. Time saved (albeit through nefarious handicap space stealing ways), we touch down in the hotel bar. The waiter comes by to tell us that it's last call. Shit! The table orders before me. A beer each for the Canadians. A beer for my friend. I, being a forward thinker, order a beer AND a gin and tonic. The Canadians immediately change their drink order. My friend Derek retains his one beer as he'll be driving back. In a land that's about to stop serving alcohol, you've got to make the most of the time that you've got. We talk for a bit and then part ways. Time for sleep.
Bands Seen:
The Lonely H
Sage
Matt Jorgensen +451
The Blakes
The Tripwires
Howlin Rain
These Arms Are Snakes
Speaker Speaker
The Black Keys
Stone Temple Pilots
Tapes 'n Tapes
Comedy Show:
Michele Buteau
Janeane Garofalo
A different mode of transportation! As I had a friend crashing at my place, and he happened to borrow a car from his grandparents, and also was headed to Seattle (for Penny Arcade Expo in his case), I decided to do the noble thing and let him drive (for the sake of the planet and all that...). The Penny Arcade Expo was at the Convention Center in the middle of downtown Seattle, so I was still a short hop away from my destination. I walked down to third avenue and hopped a bus down to the Seattle Center. Time of Arrival: around 10:30am. Which meant I had a half hour to kill. I set myself in line (which already had stretched halfway down the block on near the Pacific Science Center, and pulled out Cryptonomicon, the book I had brought in anticipation of this excess bit of time available.
For those unfamiliar, Cryptonomicon is a rangy book that spans three narratives concerning 1) a World War 2 cryptanalyst, 2) a marine in a detachment that is created to protect the secret that particular enemy codes have been broken, and 3) a 20th Century tech start up involving the grandson of #1. Part war story, part primer on information theory, part treasure hunting adventure. And all of it's wrapped together that makes a math nerd squeal in delight. Unfortunately all this bound amazingness comes in an 1100 page package that would weigh down my pocket all day. Despite it's size, I'd highly recommend it though. Maybe not as festival going fare, but Neal Stephenson tells a mean story (see Snow Crash...).
The gates open, and the line gets moving. I'm swept inside with about an hour and a half to kill before the first band goes on. Luckily, I have two tasks to initially keep me occupied.
The first, is to get a ticket to one of the comedy shows. In particular, I had seen that Zach Galifinakis had pulled out, and I thought I had seen a reference to David Cross replacing him on Saturday. These tickets are handed out at a booth in the middle of the festival grounds, and I hurried in that direction, to be confronted with another impressive demonstration of queueing power. No reading here however, as the line moves efficiently forward. A mark of a sharpie on my ticket, and I'm guaranteed a spot in a show featuring Michelle Buteau and Janeane Garofalo (either David Cross only did the one day, or I misread).
Number two on my list is to get a main stage pass for the evening. Day two boasts both The Black Keys and Stone Temple Pilots on the main stage for Sunday night. Again, a brief walk, followed by an efficient line. I am spat out of the entire preparation process with my main stage pass and comedy show ticket in tow over by the EMP Sky Church venue (which is where the first band I'll be seeing is getting set up). The time is now 11:30. One hour til showtime. I grab a slab of concrete, pull out my book, and pray that the 30% chance of showers that I had seen in the forecast doesn't construct itself into reality.
The sky maintained its composure (although a few drops leaped to their dooms, they thankfully proved to be exceptions). About five minutes before the show, I headed into the venue and caught some rail space for The Lonely H. The entire band looked to be in high school (or just barely out of), but were decked out in full 70s rock star regalia. As they took the stage and launched into their first song, all I could think was that the 70s had thrown up on stage, and it was a good thing. Lots of energy from these guys. Everything that I like about classic hard rock wrapped into a shiny new veneer. I headed out about a forty-five minutes into their set to get over to the Rock Star Stage to check out a band called Sage.
Sage, per the event description, was a band reminiscent of the Red Hot Chili Peppers. I didn't entirely see the similarity, but they were a solid act. This was the band that I had thought I was going to start my day with, but their set was offset from that of The Lonely H by fifteen minutes giving me an opportunity to see both. And to their detriment, The Lonely H put on a hell of a show, which made the low key nature of their set seem a bit less impressive then it likely was.
Next up were comedians! In a theatre! I crossed the Seattle Center grounds to see a massive line in front of the theatre. Assuming default sheep demeanor, I hopped in and proceeded to stand. I got in the line 15 minutes before the show (which was supposed to start seating a half hour before the show) and proceeded to stand in one spot for the next 10 minutes. Something did not seem right...
The general mechanic for the comedy shows is apparently such. They distribute a finite number of tickets from the Comedy Pass booth every morning. These tickets fill up some percentage of the seats. In addition, a Standby line is formed at the entrance to the venue. Anybody can stand in the Standby line and gets the opportunity to fill one of the remaining seats. Once the seats are filled they tell the rest of the line to go to hell and all is dandy in the world of the comedy stage. Now when I arrived at the front of the theater, a sign was displayed near the venue saying that the entrance was in such a direction (which the line was originating from) and the exit was in another direction. After 10 minutes, I became suspicious. I hopped out of line (even if it was the ticket holder line, I was guaranteed a spot by the shiny piece of paper in my pocket) and headed towards the entrance along the side of the line to talk to one of the Bumbershoot staff folks.
As it turns out, a second line did exist for people with tickets, but this line had disappeared inside far earlier then I had arrived. The Standby line had thickened into a mass that obscured where this line had been. The staff folks walked me through the line of Standby people into the cool interior of the theatre. Having dodged that bullet, I made my way to a seat, and prepared for the show. The emcee came on, joked for about 10 minutes (introducing the phrase, "I was so excited, I Bumbershit my pants...") and introduced the first comedienne. Michele Buteau was from New York and her act had a primarily sexual bent. Amusing and also charming. Then it's time for Janeane. She comes on and starts immediately with politics. She is a seething ball of anti-conservative rage and most of her act is political satire laced with diatribes. In the middle of her act, a group of four or five folks stand up and leave saying loudly that they came "for comedy, not for politics". Did they not know who they were getting in to see? Janeane was on Air America! She's in the Satiristas show (at Bumbershoot), which is entirely political humor. She is the female liberal foil to whatever white male conservative dares to grace the airwaves. And on top of all this, we're in the middle of an election year! To assume that she's going to make nice about politics is possibly the least informed thought that you could have. And living in Western Washington, you have to expect a lot of yes-men for this type of thing (there was a lot whistling, clapping, and loud displays of agreement as she went through her bit. This was not a particularly conservative audience)
The walk out shakes her a bit. She falls back to some other topics, trying to get her feet under her. Babies (and her non-desire for them). Marriage (and her non-desire to be engaged in such). Then family. And this leads her back. Her dad is apparently conservative, so arguments come up, and she's right back into the flow of political satire. She does go off the crazy conspiracy end for a bit ("every cell phone, even if it's turned off allows the government to track your usage of certain words..."). As a whole I enjoy it thoroughly (although, as usual find that all political discourse comes down to a stark us vs. them breakdown, that's more invective then truthful representation).
Comedy show done, I head over to the Wells Fargo for some Northwest Jazz. The hectic artist to artist jumping portion of my day is about to begin. Matt Jorgensen +451 is a good band to ramp up for this. It eases me back into the music side of things and gives me a chance to grab some food sit down and masticate like a champ (jazz is approved by 5 out of 6 professional masticators for post-comedy mastications).
Then, a quick trip into the Exhibition Hall to see The Blakes. The Blakes were a solid entertaining group. Not quite on par with the high points on my weekend thus far (Beck, Throw Me The Statue, PWRFL Power), but definitely avoiding the basement. Now a jaunt over to the Sky Church again for The Tripwires, a band that is supposed to be "Beatles-esque". I don't get any of this vibe from them, and leave after two or three songs. I got more of a "bastard love child of the Cherry Popping Daddies and Sum 41" kind of thing out of it.
In any case, this sits lowest in my evaluation of the day until I arrive over at the Rockstar Stage to hear Howlin' Rain. And to borrow a phrase from earlier, it's like the 70s threw up on stage. This time though, it's not in a good way. I get the feeling that this group of guys has actually been playing together since the late 60s/early 70s. And where they didn't get huge initially (because they had X number of immensely talented psychedelia/funk/arena rock bands at the time), through a sheer battle of attrition, they have gotten to the point where the world demands Y number of psychedelia/funk/arena rock bands and they happen to be #Y on the list. I sit around for a bit (as there is a distinct lack of other things to check out in the next half hour) and get some more reading done.
As 5:00 pm rolls around I get up and head back towards the Exhibition Hall to see These Arms Are Snakes. I enter to see the singer shirtless, with the microphone wrapped around his neck, leaping around as if possessed. Hardcore. Indeed. This is the first show of the weekend where I see the band (actually just the singer) get down on the floor and interact with the crowd. He climbs the little barricade and hops out into the crowd for a bit of crowd surfing. The sound is schizophrenic. And I dig. 45 minutes of crazy later and I'm back outside with a half hour to kill before Speaker Speaker comes on at the Sky Church. I snack on free samples and then find a bargain in terms of food. A plate of basmati rice with Alo Chole (potatoes and garbanzo beans) from a booth serving up Indian food. With the addition of a Mango Lemonade, I'm ready to roll.
The information guide for the festival indicates that Speaker Speaker is a brand of pop-punk that is sonically close kin with Ted Leo (one of my favorite artists). Now this sets an expectation. And the expectation is the baseline for comparison. And this becomes a hurdle in the way of my enjoyment. The band plays well. They're definitely into their set and having a good time up on stage. I'm on the rail on the side of the stage that they come up from, and I hear the pre-show banter with some of the crowd they know. Talking about the show they had a week ago where 8 people were there (they had fun though!). MarioKart (I'm gonna bring those sparks!). But they aren't Ted Leo. More along the lines of The Ataris. And my dilemma here is that I've come in expecting Ted Leo, and gotten The Ataris instead. This is a bait and switch that leaves me a bit dissatisfied. I'm starting to think at this point that the informative little summaries of the bands are less then helpful for me. This realization comes a bit late though. I know the next three bands, and have known them for a significant portion of time prior to Bumbershoot.
Next in my schedule is Jakob Dylan, formerly of The Wallflowers. I get to the stage, look at the packed, shoulder to shoulder crowd, and decide immediately that I'd rather find some prime real estate for The Black Keys and Stone Temple Pilots then stick around. And given my anticipated proximity to the stage, I'm going to try and get out of the Stone Temple Pilots set early in order to catch a few songs by Final Fantasy and Tapes 'n Tapes.
More reading commences as I wait the half hour for The Black Keys to come on. The Black Keys are spectacular. There's only two of them, so they don't physically fill the space they've been given (the Main Stage is large), but their sound is huge and crunchy. The set goes by quickly. I'm in disbelief that an hour could pass that fast. T-minus thirty minutes until Stone Temple Pilots come on. The book comes out, and I read by cell phone light in the quickly fading half-light.
9:15 comes around. The filler song playing through the house system ends. There's a few second pause and the crowd noise swells in anticipation. Then, another song comes over the house system. The crowd subsides back to it's default dull roar. The song ends and goes quiet. 6 seconds. 7 seconds. This has got to be it! The crowd lets the decibel level climb again. And then another song from the house system. The false starts keep happening for about a half hour. The Stone Temple Pilots were supposed to be on at 9:15 and it's 9:20. 9:25. 9:30. 9:35. Around me the crowd thinks that it's got to be something with Scott Weiland. He's drunk. Throw some water on his ass and get him out here. No, he's back on heroin. He OD'd. A tour bus rolls in around 9:35ish. 10 minutes later STP takes the stage.
The music rocks. It rattles, jumps, and hisses. Lounge Fly, Creep, Vaseline, ...! I'm solidly gripped by it all (Purple was the first or second CD that I ever owned). One bit of eh? here. As the music is sonically pummeling the front rows of the audience, he sings and moves around. But it's almost like he's in the middle of an interpretive dance. He's moving at a different speed and level of intensity then everything around him.
I pop out of the set after 8 or 9 songs and head over towards the Wells Fargo stage to see if Final Fantasy is still on. He is not. I head in the opposite direction to catch the tail end of the Tapes 'n Tapes set. Happily I'm there for about 3 songs before their set ends. A good stage presence and some great songs leave me with some warm fuzzies at the end of day 2.
My friend is still up in Seattle, so I give him a call and meet him at a 7-11 near the Seattle Center. It's 11pm. Tomorrow's a holiday, and he's got a pair of friends in the car from Victoria. We head to Dick's to put a food cap on the evening. One Dick's Deluxe, fries, and milk shake later and all of a sudden the night needs some drinks. We drive around downtown Seattle looking for some parking. We abortively attempt to park in a garage and leave when we find out that they close in five minutes. Time is starting to dwindle til last call hours. We head back to the hotel that the Canadians are staying at. Parking here is on site, so we get inside the parking garage and start spiraling up looking for a spot. We head past reserved spaces aplenty. Then the handicap spaces pop up.
"Wait," I say, "This is your grandparents car." I look up in the visor, and sure enough, a handicap permit is present. Time saved (albeit through nefarious handicap space stealing ways), we touch down in the hotel bar. The waiter comes by to tell us that it's last call. Shit! The table orders before me. A beer each for the Canadians. A beer for my friend. I, being a forward thinker, order a beer AND a gin and tonic. The Canadians immediately change their drink order. My friend Derek retains his one beer as he'll be driving back. In a land that's about to stop serving alcohol, you've got to make the most of the time that you've got. We talk for a bit and then part ways. Time for sleep.
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