When I left Thursday afternoon, I felt like shit with an ungodly case of mono and, apparently, Lyme disease. I thought I might die there, but by Friday, I felt much, much better. It may be stupidly-named, but Bonnaroo apparently cures all ills.
Monthly Archive for June, 2007
Most Indie bands are keen to put a record out as soon as they’ve been publicly acknowledged, and the result is often a garbled mess of poorly-rehearsed and selected nonsense.
This Indie-punk act is far less annoying than some of the shit bands that unfortunately receive air play these days.
I haven’t really tied one on for a few weeks, so apparently I was due last night. I went out (ostensibly) to eat some pizza with my friends, but they neglected to tell me that not only was it dollar slices, but it was dollar drafts as well. So I started pounding beers. Let me rephrase that: after my first beer was so refreshing and went down so easy, I started killing beers like they were trying to jump my land claim in a Clint Eastwood western. It really didn’t seem like I was drinking them, I just kept looking at my hand and there was always an empty glass in it.
Volume control and profanity became a problem, or an amusement, depending on who you ask. I flipped off all my friends repeatedly. I flipped of inanimate objects, including the new Dave Eggers book, which was gifted to me for no good reason by Katie, who also got flipped off. Everyone became motherfucker, or bitches (plural), and I was indiscriminate; males could be either, and females were wooed the same.
We drove to D.C. on a whim, twelve hours each way on 95, for Califone’s show at the Rock and Roll Hotel. Highway barbecue, coffee, a night in South Carolina where “Deluxe” still describes cheap motels. Slither on HBO. North to President Inn (’s not included) on New York Avenue near the arboretum. Capital Dome: I bare my ass to it in the window, more than they deserve, and Amy and I head out. The neighborhood is depressed, restaurants all closed or takeout Chinese or ff chain. We eat shrimp lo mein and fried rice and walk to the club.
Continue reading ‘Review: Califone; June 9, 2007 at Rock & Roll Hotel; DC’
photo by The Evil Angel
If you like Wilco’s music even a little, you need to see them before Jeff Tweedy retires. They combine seemingly boundless enthusiasm for playing with impeccable style and great talent.
Continue reading ‘Review: Wilco; June 15, 2007 at Murat Theater; Indianapolis’
