I have always said that it would be a great thing if the world map was like an Excel spreadsheet, and we could just hide states and countries the way you can columns and rows. That way we could jump around and see friends and loved ones when we wanted, go to H & M whenever we felt the need (like, three times a day), and travel around in general without having to worry about airfare, lodging, a dogsitter, and taking time off of work. I realize that this fantasy is flawed, of course, because half the world would want to be in the same place at the same time and it would cause complete chaos....but one can dream.
I am conflicted, though, because anyone that knows me knows that anything that ends in "fest" gives me the heebee jeebies, number one because of the crowds, number two (heh heh) because of the porta-potties, and number three, because of the way that you always end up a mile away from the band that you want to see with some drunk and super high frat boy douchebag next to you pumping his arm to the music and going "WOOOOOO!", WOOOOOOOH!" so loud, and for so long, that you walk away wondering why you paid for a ticket and hating all of humanity with a serious passion.
Still, Bumbershoot is coming up and I want to go. To be honest, I could see most of the bands that are playing at Bumbershoot right in my own backyard at Monolith in mid-September..and I probably will. I don't know why I am so drawn to Seattle this year to see this particular festival out of all the festivals that have happened this summer. I think it has something to do with the location, just the right amount of bands I like, and the fact that there are a crap ton of great musicians that are in Seattle right now that I would love to see.
In any case, here are the highlights. You can click on the names to hear the artist's music:
I mean, holy crap. If you don't know Neko Case, I envy you. I envy you because you are about to hear her for the first time. If you do know her, then you know the sound of honey dripping on a 1956 Ford F-100 pickup truck with a bloodhound in the passengers seat holding tiger lilies, cupcakes and a loaded gun.
If my world were a Harry Potter book, Lucinda Williams would be Dumbledore. (Except she is totally hot, and she is almost sixty years old...sorry Dumbledore). Lucinda Williams is the daughter of Miller Williams, a literature professor and poet. Her voice is creaky and sad, even when she is belting out a loud song with a fast tempo; her songs are unbelievable. Someday, when I learn how to upload MP3s onto this bastard, I will share with you the magic that is "Side of the road", or "Something about what happens when we talk". You will then see. Stay tuned.
A singer-songwriter from Portland slash New Hampshire slash Portland. Most recently he recorded an album with Zoey Deschanel called She and Him. It's a great album, although I feel like I have heard every single song before, somewhere. That's not a bad thing, because they are both adorable and I love everything they do as separate artists.. I wasn't expecting my world to be turned upside down by their collaboration, but they came through with something awesome, albeit a bit predictable.
M. Ward's solo records, on the other hand, are like something I would put in my little space pod for the future in case everything else in the world went away. There is something uniquely comforting and timeless about his voice and music that I just want to hear no matter what mood I am in.
OMG...Dale Watson. I haven't even begun to get started on The Country Music in this little blog. Dale Watson is not a bad place to start. He invokes the spirit and sound of the Outlaw Country men like Waylon and Willie. I may know what you are thinking. Willie is still alive but why does he have to keep doing things like reggae albums and collaborations with Wynton Marsalis? It just doesn't feel right. It's like if Santa Claus started wearing Crocs and a Hawaiian Shirt all the time, or sporting tassle shoes with his costume instead of boots.
Anyways, Dale Watson has had a hard life and word has it that he did try to off himself some years back after the love of his life got in a car accident and died. Although I am loathe to know that anyone is in that kind of pain, I am glad he failed in that endeavor, because he is one of the last of the real country music singers. I am going to see him this Monday at the Laporte Swing Station in Fort Collins, so you can bet your ass I am going to write about that on this here blog.
Mark Pickerel was the original drummer for the Screaming Trees, which means he worked with my beloved Mark Lanegan. I recently re-discovered Mark Pickerel's music while trawling around myspace for something good. I think a friend and I had talked about him some months back but it never "took" for either of us. For some reason this time around he really got me, maybe because I have been watching a lot of film noir lately. His music is sexy and sad, a touch creepy and faraway. It feels like music that would be in modern film noir, and it is good.
Long story short, there is no way I am able to go to Bumbershoot this year, because I have other obligations. I can read all about it and remember that it will probably rain anyway, and there is nothing worse than waiting in a line for the blue toilets when it is pouring down and you are standing in muck. Dang, I wish I could go.
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