Well after sleeping til 10 to get caught up on sleep, and having the worst breakfast ever that didn't include Apple Jacks, I checked out the online news before heading to the festival. Brangelina are trying to nab, or adopt, their fifth baby. Some people collect art or rare coins, but if you're rich and famous enough you get to collect kids. I guess they're looking for one from every continent to get a matched set. Nothing like having a big family without ruining your figure. UT 21, Arkansas State 13? It was funny when Michigan tanked against Appalachian, but this ain't funny. That was almost as good as losing to North Carolina State; where were the five blocked punts? Look for the guys who took the points on that one-they'll be dropping past your window through the weekend. And another child star bottoms out in adulthood. The Family Ties kid that they added after a few seasons to make Michael J. Fox seem less like the smurfish curmudgeon, kind of like when they added Oliver on the Brady Bunch, nearly went for the trifecta. Right after getting out of rehab, he poured booze on his girlfriend in her sleep, choked her, and threw her down. That guy is one DWI arrest or an illegitimate kid and a good spin move to the basket from being in the NBA.
But I digress. On to the festival. First up, Black Rebel Motorcycle Club. They've been played on Little Steven's Underground Garage quite a bit, and they were pretty good. Kinda schtiky, with everyone wearing black and fake fog blasting the whole time. But they were pretty good, with surprising musicality. I think they're really folkies whose manager figured out a way to make some money off a good name. Then Kings of Leon. Supposedly they've opened for U2 and the Rolling Stones. This was a big disappointment. How to say this and stay classy? They, and their fans, are...poseur douchebags. They're like guys who learned how to play their instruments six weeks ago and just formed a band. The crowd, mainly kids with dirty feet and ratty clothes, loved it of course. Left there for the Holmes Brothers, who are three older guys who've been playing gospel-influenced blues since 1980. Highlight was a soulful, ballad-style rendition of Cheap Trick's "I Want you to Want Me." The hip replacement crowd loved it. After moving on, I hit the crafts booths, and bought some cheap "re-entry shields" sunglasses, to replace the DeNiro in Casino style sunglasses I had before. Next was a local band, Stars of Track and Field. Fair to average. Basically I remember them wearing long-sleeve shirts and sweating a lot (Jimmy Page used to sweat like a pig on stage, but then again, he was Jimmy Page). Nirvana they're not. Then on to Rose Hill Drive, who clearly won the day. I can't go on enough about this trio from Boulder. They're what every rock band should be-loud, musical, hard, and they looked the look. The lead guitar player had on an Humble Pie shirt. These guys had me at hello. Like Black Sabbath before the drugs ruined them, without all the Satanic lyrics (reminds me of David St. Hubbins of Spinal Tap complaining about all the other bands that "wear their Satanism on their sleeve" and Derek Smalls explaining that "a man's relationship with the devil is a very private affair."). Can't wait for their Behind the Music. I concluded my day with Apples in Stereo, who basically were a joke. They were billed as being like ELO, but they really were like someone on the Gong Show.
Some more observations about the festival. First, when did it become fashionable for the parents to go with the kids? I can hardly imagine Miss Birdie at the Grateful Dead in '81 at the Summit or Frank Zappa in '80 at the old Coliseum. Right around the time that Illiniois Enema Bandit came on that little excursion would have come to a screeching halt. Parents are parents, kids are kids, and they should stay in their respective space. If your 16 year old kid can't be trusted for 4 hours outside your sight, its all over. And the beach balls have to stop. That lost its novelty right around the time hacky-sack got old. Watch the damn show. If you want to play beach ball, go to the beach. Bumbershoot also has street performers, which is another highly irritating thing. Those people need to stay in the French Quarter where they belong.
I then went for a run on the Burke-Gilman trail near the UW campus. The "mountain was out," meaning you could see Mt. Rainier, and I went as far as the Gas Works Park, an old gas works converted into a public park. Sounds stupid, like the Exxon Refinery State Park or something, but its got an incredible view of downtown Seattle. Finally closed the night with watching Superbad at the Cinerama. As billed, its a renovated '50s theatre, with a huge curved screen, and other old-time interiors like fake stars on the scalloped ceilings and those colored circle cut outs on the doors. It reminded me of the Ridge Theatre in Vancouver, or the old Meyerland Plaza cinema in Houston where we saw movies as a kid in the early '70s.
Tomorrow-last day of the festival. Looking forward to Roky Erickson, of the old 13th Floor Elevators, Texas' only true psychedelic band in the '60s. Very glad to see old Roky doing well enough to play a gig.
But I digress. On to the festival. First up, Black Rebel Motorcycle Club. They've been played on Little Steven's Underground Garage quite a bit, and they were pretty good. Kinda schtiky, with everyone wearing black and fake fog blasting the whole time. But they were pretty good, with surprising musicality. I think they're really folkies whose manager figured out a way to make some money off a good name. Then Kings of Leon. Supposedly they've opened for U2 and the Rolling Stones. This was a big disappointment. How to say this and stay classy? They, and their fans, are...poseur douchebags. They're like guys who learned how to play their instruments six weeks ago and just formed a band. The crowd, mainly kids with dirty feet and ratty clothes, loved it of course. Left there for the Holmes Brothers, who are three older guys who've been playing gospel-influenced blues since 1980. Highlight was a soulful, ballad-style rendition of Cheap Trick's "I Want you to Want Me." The hip replacement crowd loved it. After moving on, I hit the crafts booths, and bought some cheap "re-entry shields" sunglasses, to replace the DeNiro in Casino style sunglasses I had before. Next was a local band, Stars of Track and Field. Fair to average. Basically I remember them wearing long-sleeve shirts and sweating a lot (Jimmy Page used to sweat like a pig on stage, but then again, he was Jimmy Page). Nirvana they're not. Then on to Rose Hill Drive, who clearly won the day. I can't go on enough about this trio from Boulder. They're what every rock band should be-loud, musical, hard, and they looked the look. The lead guitar player had on an Humble Pie shirt. These guys had me at hello. Like Black Sabbath before the drugs ruined them, without all the Satanic lyrics (reminds me of David St. Hubbins of Spinal Tap complaining about all the other bands that "wear their Satanism on their sleeve" and Derek Smalls explaining that "a man's relationship with the devil is a very private affair."). Can't wait for their Behind the Music. I concluded my day with Apples in Stereo, who basically were a joke. They were billed as being like ELO, but they really were like someone on the Gong Show.
Some more observations about the festival. First, when did it become fashionable for the parents to go with the kids? I can hardly imagine Miss Birdie at the Grateful Dead in '81 at the Summit or Frank Zappa in '80 at the old Coliseum. Right around the time that Illiniois Enema Bandit came on that little excursion would have come to a screeching halt. Parents are parents, kids are kids, and they should stay in their respective space. If your 16 year old kid can't be trusted for 4 hours outside your sight, its all over. And the beach balls have to stop. That lost its novelty right around the time hacky-sack got old. Watch the damn show. If you want to play beach ball, go to the beach. Bumbershoot also has street performers, which is another highly irritating thing. Those people need to stay in the French Quarter where they belong.
I then went for a run on the Burke-Gilman trail near the UW campus. The "mountain was out," meaning you could see Mt. Rainier, and I went as far as the Gas Works Park, an old gas works converted into a public park. Sounds stupid, like the Exxon Refinery State Park or something, but its got an incredible view of downtown Seattle. Finally closed the night with watching Superbad at the Cinerama. As billed, its a renovated '50s theatre, with a huge curved screen, and other old-time interiors like fake stars on the scalloped ceilings and those colored circle cut outs on the doors. It reminded me of the Ridge Theatre in Vancouver, or the old Meyerland Plaza cinema in Houston where we saw movies as a kid in the early '70s.
Tomorrow-last day of the festival. Looking forward to Roky Erickson, of the old 13th Floor Elevators, Texas' only true psychedelic band in the '60s. Very glad to see old Roky doing well enough to play a gig.
3 comments:
Glad to see you are getting back to your old self. But I would add that going to Seattle to avoid the hippies you dispise was a bad choice - if you didn't plan to turn into one.
Well, Dennis is going to see Megadeath this week. We will NOT be tagging along. First, I don't enjoy death in any quantities, therefore MEGA death is right out.
Also, the music sucks. :P I know music is a subjective thing, but it shouldn't be a relative thing, and I have serious doubts that it's really music at all.
im guessing the kid from family ties is not the "caring nuturer" type.
enjoy seattle. is grunge out up there, or did it die with cobain?
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