One would think I have had enough indie synth pop; there has been a lot of it for some years now. One would also think that facial tattoos are a bad idea, but that didn’t stop Mike Tyson. Somethings just don’t have an explanation.
These folks are out of Columbus. (Ahem, Ohio against the world!) And this song that’s currently getting all the Spotify love reminds me just a bit of Fitz and The Tantrums. It’s my first intro to them, but I will be looking for them in The Queen City from this point forward, hint hint, Kid Runner.
Will there be dancing at The Drinkery, Sunday Sept. 27 at 9:00. Giddy-up!
Right, so this gospel kick I am on? I blame MPMF for it. The bass groove driving this song and the huge vocals in the chorus? LOVE LOVE LOVE.
I am not a fan of Christian bands slipping Jesus lyrics into their indie rock songs. I always feel a little duped when I notice a stray lyric about grace or mercy. And oddly those are usually the telling words that cause me to scrutinize the lyrics further.
But gospel music is, well, gospel. They can Jesus all they want, and I will gladly vibe to all of it. These guys play at The Lightborne Lot right before The Ridges on Friday, Sept 25, at 8:45. Booking these folks right before The Ridges is an excellent flow. Cheers to you MPMF staff!
I’ve finally managed to get my photo editing situation under control. I’ve been on two hikes since I’ve been here. I climbed a mountain. Behold the absurd beauty.
Ok this is actually from my apartment deck. It’s not exactly nature, but it’s still pretty great.
Is it an accident, that Matthew E. White shares his last name with Barry White? Maybe, but I am going to continue thinking that it’s a natural inheritance of funk and soul passing across generations from a large furry black man to a large furry white man. Is this concurrence a thing? Maybe not, but it comforts me, so I am going to continue thinking it exists.
There’s a solid representation of Americana and Soul in this year’s MPMF line-up. My next pick (spoiler alert?) is another soul act, The Eagle Rock Gospel Singers. Who can resist gospel/soul backing vocals? And I have to concur that “rock and roll don’t have no soul… and everybody likes to talk shit…”
Warning: I can’t find him on the schedule so this could be a recent drop from the fest. The only weird thing is his tour stuff still says he’s coming. So, I dunno. I know that if he turns up, I am seeing him.
Shimmering, rich vocals backed by dark expansive synth beats and lyrics to burn; this is what Zola Jesus brings. The kid in me that was captivated by Bauhaus, Souxie and the Banshees, and Kate Bush is crushing hard on this music. The fact that I still return to these artists more than twenty years later speaks to the void that they left.
Put on your black eyeliner and black boots. Moody goth dancing is going to happen at 1215 in the Taft Ballroom on Sept 26 at Midpoint Music Festival. See you there.
I woke on Sunday morning to discover that I was not kidnapped and forced into sex slavery regardless of my oh so creepy motel experience. As stated in yesterday’s blog, I declared success without seeing the status of my vehicle. I also noticed that Henry had eaten all of the ample amounts of food and water that I left out for him. I was pleased to know my little guy, while displeased with his current station in life, was eating and drinking even if in secret.
While I was suffering through the trauma that was wrought on my sinuses, the clerk gave me a voucher for a free breakfast at the diner across the street the night before. I dressed and headed in that direction. On my walk I was relieved to see that my car was unmolested in the night. And to my pleasant surprise, the diner made all of their baked goods in house. So after wolfing down excellent greasy spoon eggs and bacon, I took a slab of sour cherry strudel with me for the road.
I was feeling relieved to get away from my Twin Peaks experience. I was even more relieved to know that if all went as planned I would be sleeping in my destination city that evening. With that I started my day seeing Montana in the daylight, which looked like this.
Montana was lovely.
Something seeped into my awareness as I was driving the long hours across Montana. South Dakota and Montana have some of the most naturally beautiful landscapes I have ever seen. With such a glut of natural beauty, I was dismayed to notice how little care seemed to be given to keeping it that way. Abandoned industrial and farm equipment littered the fields in view of the highway. Dilapidated structures were left to rust in place. Industrial garbage was allowed to sit where ever it was last left.
Before I continue with my observations, a word about something nerdy. Cities often have areas that are dedicated to a particular use. Industrial parks are allocated for warehouses and factories. Residential areas are allocated to private homes. Business areas house store-fronts that provide services and goods to those that walk in off the street. That’s what zoning is for. It’s to set up parameters on what land is to be used for.
As I was wondering about the lack of stewardship in keeping the land beautiful, I considered one of the unappealing aspects of Billings. While I intellectually understand the purpose of zoning laws, I didn’t truly appreciate their application until I witnessed a complete lack there of. Billings was configured in this way; take all of the structures in a city, shake them up together and scatter them haphazardly in no particular order. Residences were sprinkled among, warehouses, and bars. The local hardware store was flanked by a defunct printing facility, rail road tracks, and a four lane highway.
This looked awkward, but there are other negative effects aside from ugliness. Because walk-up businesses were separated from each other by long stretches of highway and industrial buildings, running errands could only be done easily by car. Based on the socioeconomic details I noticed, there are a lot of people living in Billings that don’t need to spend a whopping 30% of their minimum wage income on a car and all its trappings.
The libertarian in me was pleased by this freedom from regulation; the progressive in me was dismayed (that I have views in both camps makes all people hate me equally when talking politics). And that’s where I think both of these things are rooted. A lack of regulation due to valuing freedom over social responsibility. And this is what you get. Confused, illogically laid out cities, and industrial equipment left to rot, marring beautiful landscapes. And this brings me to the problem that libertarians often dismiss, and it’s that all of us, operating according to our own self-interests, can be unholy dicks. *steps off soapbox*
I drove though a hot minute of Idaho, and it was gorgeous. I wound through mountains covered with ancient conifers. I regret that I failed to get a picture. But I was only in the state for less than an hour, and at this point I was anxious to end my three days of driving.
I don’t know what I expected Washington to look like, probably Idaho, all mountains and pine trees. What eastern Washington state actually looks like is some alien land. The desolation there breathes and has teeth. And it gave me the most magnificent sunset I have ever seen as a welcome.
Eastern Washington state was just amazing.
The sun was so crisp and the sky so blue.
Driving into this sunset was just spectacular.
Henry and I powered through the last couple hours of driving with a little help from George in the form of pleasant conversation. When I finally rolled into Seattle Stef and David were ready to catch me with air mattress made up, pizza, and beer. It never felt so good to be in someone’s home.
I have thoughts about the journey, but I think I’ve done enough writing for one day. So those will wait for another blog entry. And just a note about the pictures, or lack there of – I decided not to get my DSLR out on this trip. Thinking with my photographer brain takes me out of the moment, and I wanted to be fully present for this journey. So all the pictures were quickly taken with my cell phone. However, I did take my DSLR up the mountain this past weekend, and have stellar shots to share in the coming days of the lush forests of the Cascade Mountains.
And here it is. My favorite song discovered in my MPMF15 listening.
I love this song so hard I want to marry it. That might be an exaggeration. That song would be difficult to cuddle with.
I am not often a fan of seeing electronic music performed live. Watching people work at computers isn’t a compelling visual for me. As one of my photographer friends said at Bunbury this year, “What’s pleasing to the ears is not necessarily pleasing to the eye.” And no better phrase can sum up my thoughts on seeing DJs or any other performer doing things with technology.
But I am curious to see what Amelia Meath makes of her vocal performance along side producer, Nick Sanborn. The duo come together in the most acoustically pleasing way with Meath’s vocals floating across time by laying the past on top of Sanborn’s modern beats. The contrast is alluring. If you love Portishead, this performance is a must.
Join me at Sylvan Esso on Saturday Sept. 26th at the Christian Moerlein stage at 1045.
I left Mason City, Iowa with a full belly, gas tank, and twelve hours of driving ahead of me. I made a reservation at a pet-friendly Best Western in Billings, Montana, so I had no choice but to clock the hours across South Dakota. I gave little consideration to the location of my hotel aside from the time calculations that indicated that Billings was in the general vicinity of my driving goal for the day. This turned out to be unwise.
After wrestling Henry back in the crate, he settled into peering at me warily from his crate in the passenger’s seat. We roared through what remained of Iowa and the southern section of Minnesota. Most of our time was spent slogging across South Dakota, a state that is a little less than 400 miles across. Luckily, the state is also beautiful.
This is a tourist trap. But they make their own ice cream, and it’s pretty good. The trip was not wasted.
That is the Missouri River. It seems a miss to not provide a place to pull off the highway and take a picture, but it seems South Dakota isn’t so great at recognizing its natural resources.
Tail end of South Dakota before heading into Wyoming.
This panorama shot in South Dakota was intended to show how big the sky is. But I’m not convinced it achieves the goal.
We roared into Wyoming. I regret hitting that state at sunset, because what I did see of it looked gorgeous.
And Wyoming was stunning.
I had to snap this picture shortly after crossing the state line. There was precious little day light left.
By the time I hit Montana, like the couple hours before close in a crappy bar, it was too dark for me to assess it’s attractive attributes. The dark drive to Billings was accompanied by Henry’s complaints. It only dawned on me then that he only got upset in the car after dark. I don’t know what offends the persnickety little man about night driving, but he is decidedly not a fan.
As I navigated to the hotel I learned that Billings is a larger city than the little town I had imagined. I also learned that Billings has a downtown that is less than appealing, and that my motel was located there. And this is when I was plunged into an immersive Agent Dale Cooper experience.
The odor that greeted me upon entering the motel office made me wince. It was though all the intensity of a Yankee Candle warehouse focused itself on this very small room. The receptionist was irrationally excited to see me at any time of day, but especially so at midnight. The check-in process seemed to take an eternity, but I am sure that is just my perception due to the sinus raping that was happening to my face. I fled the office with my key card feeling unsettled.
I pulled my car close to my room to unpack. While doing so a middle-aged man leisurely rode his BMX bike past me as though he had no particular place to be. At midnight. With his knees up in his armpits while pedaling because the frame was so small. He gave me a neighborly enough greeting, but this did nothing to remedy my unsettled feeling. It was at this moment that I noticed what seemed to be another motel guest lounging in a lawn chair intently watching me unload. I made eye contract several times thinking he would recover himself and attend to something else. Not so. The unsettling continued as I hurried to finish unloading.
The parking lot of the hotel was full. I had to park my car, loaded to the gills with stuff across the street in the less than desirable downtown of Billings. In and of itself this would be ok, but while walking away from my PLEASE-BURGLE-ME vehicle I noticed a couple screaming at each other at the end of the ally. Upon closer inspection the couple looked like crack heads (thanks OTR circa 2004 for helping me spot that) having a throw down, with a person … spectating? I don’t know what other word to use for this third, as he contributed in no way but his body language suggested he was in rapt attention.
At this point, my attention is drawn to the other end of the ally to see a trio of men. Two men are carrying a man between them. It seemed the man in the center had consumed a too much booze. The peculiar thing about them was that the incapacitated man was in a tux while his assistants were in shorts and T’s. They also waved at me as though I knew them. At this point the unsettled feeling is developing into alarm.
On the way back to my room, I run into another crack head couple arguing. They had the decency to pause their fight to greet me, a nicety that didn’t make me feel any better. At midnight. Once safely in my room, I felt compelled to search for a? What? A camera? A dead body? I don’t know. I didn’t find any of those things, but I did find what appeared to be blood stains on the carpet. My thought while falling asleep? If I don’t get kidnapped into a sex slave ring or worse tonight, I will call it success including if my car has been looted.
I packed as many of my belongings in my Mazda 2 as possible. I drove from Cincinnati to Seattle. There’s a whole other blog that will happen one day explaining how I came to be shoving all my belongings in my subcompact car with a cat named Henry and driving 2000 miles. Until that happens this will have to do.
I got a late start on Friday morning. Partially, because I had a late night on Thursday. Starting the trip with a sleep deficit seemed less appealing than making the time that I wanted to. I rolled out of Cincinnati at 11 AM. With this poor little guy.
Henry was not impressed with this adventure. To him this was much like his “adventures” to the vet, but of a significantly longer duration.
Henry didn’t start out as my cat but became mine. I can’t help but think that at this moment, he was really regretting where he ended up. I had a small litter box in the car for him. I let him out of the crate to use it when I would stop for gas. Turns out he can’t even with the bodily functions while in the car. He didn’t eat/drink/pee/poo in the car. I was at once worried and relieved when I noticed this pattern.
Henry was a surprisingly good travel companion, except that he would cry when the sun went down. I am afraid that I only noticed this pattern at the end of day two. I was hoping to get through Minnesota on my first day, but at 9 pm Henry had been serenading me for some time. I was done.
I found a Quality Inn in Mason City Iowa. I was perfectly happy to pay the ridiculous $120 dollars to stay there. Henry was beyond pleased to get out of the crate in the hotel room. Everything was uneventful except for one thing.
What is the purpose of that?
Seriously? What is the purpose of that?
Who needs a window in their shower? How did this happen? Is this a really poor attempt at a sexy clouded glass shower? But honestly, at this point I was so tired that I give this no thought whatsoever and fell into bed.
I climbed a mountain today. On the way down the mountain I saw a woman carrying what appeared to be a swaddled baby in her arms. The climb was strenuous. My first thought was – what the hell is happening here?
That was also my thought when I listened to TImothy Showalter’s, the dude behind Strand of Oaks, top four songs on Spotify. “Goshen 97” gives “Summer of ’69” a run in terms of a nostalgic anthem for all things about making music and being young. “Shut In” is dripping with big Bruce Springsteen feels. “JM” is all Iron and Wine goes electric that morphs into dark, pulsing rock. “HEAL” is a synthed-out Orgy/Bauhaus baby. See for yourself.
You will have to go to Spotify for the others. But that should be enough for you to pick up what I’m throwing down. So, back to my thought, what the hell is going on here? I don’t have an answer to that question. But I do know that I want to see this guy. I’m curious to see how the show holds together with music that is running across the board. Plus, Showalter’s lyrics are punching me right in the feels.
I do know what the hell was going on with the woman headed up the mountain with a baby. She wasn’t holding a baby. She had her jacket wrapped up in her arms and was cradling it, which killed my curiosity immediately. Maybe I never what to know what the hell is going on with Strand of Oaks and just enjoy it.
Kate's Queen City Notes 