When I’m Stuck, I Turn To Duct Tape

La la la la la….

Friday.  Something To Do.  2 hour set.

Mike and Mickey, Al and Merle all joined us, and S2D sold some merch; we drank many Leinie Creamy Darks, and the Dancing King showed up and my mind was put at ease.  I had been concerned at not seeing him with his special personal style of Sweaty White Guy Dancing:

S2D really should be much better known.  I guess ska music isn’t fashionable or something.

Wandering  the fest Grounds, we parked for a while at the Pavilion and listened to Local blues-masters Steve Cohen (Leroy Airmaster) and Greg Koch (not one of the Evil ones) shred a little bit.  Even though the blues isn’t Wife Sublime’s thing typically, we stayed because these guys are so good and the place is so pleasant.

True story.  Back in the oldish days, when I was living with a troublesome (and troubled) roommate in a basement apartment under threat of eviction, I often would get out of the ill-fated dwelling unit by walking down to the Murray Tap for the Tuesday Blues jam with Leroy Airmaster squirreled onto a small stage mounted on top of the bar. Times were harder than they are now, and a largish dose of local blues musicians just worked.

Part of what made it pleasant, was that we FINALLY  located a beertender at Water Street Brewery who knew that filling it past that horrible horrible black FILL LINE is what earns them a tip:

Eventually, Zelmo showed (three days in a row!  STUNNING!) and we waited to see if Mike D was able to figure out text on his phone.  Alas, no, apparently, and Z had to leave to see if Mike could be located.

Waiting for the Mike

We got some unhealthy food, and ended the night at the Walkmen:

I wasn’t sure whether Wife Sublime would care for them or not, but after we found a spot where the vocals and higher registers weren’t muddled, it was OK.  We didn’t stick for any headliners, because the following day promised to be pretty severe (yes it is foreshadowing).


5 responses to “When I’m Stuck, I Turn To Duct Tape

  • ifthethunderdontgetya™³²®©

    U.S. Cellular Walkmen, please explain text to Mike.

    And then to me, if I ever get wanna them sell phones.

  • mikey

    So I’ve been reading along with yet another weeklong Summerfest adventure, and I find myself oddly disquieted by the narrative. But why, I ask myself – it’s music, friends and fun, along with beer and hot dogs. What could possibly be the downside? I mostly put those thoughts aside, as it wasn’t something I could make contact with, like an alien or a Weta or perhaps a furry.

    But in a brief but intense meeting with Sailor Jerry it has finally occurred to me. See, it’s about concerts. There’s three kinds of things:

    • Bands in Bars
    • Rock n Roll Shows
    • Teh Festival Experience

    I LOVE bands in bars. I have always been happiest in a bar, particularly one that wasn’t actively contriving to throw my pimply ass out, and the bands that play in that environment represent the real rock n roll. I could do that every night. Well, I could, when I had money, energy and something approximating mental health.

    Rock n Roll Shows? Meh, not so much. Oh, I’ve been to my share of ’em, from The Babys opening for Patty Smyth to the very first farewell show of The Who at Candlestick Park, but I don’t like crowds, I don’t like to be uncomfortable, and I don’t like to be unable to verbally communicate for extended periods. So these were something I decided to give up some time ago, as the experience was less than satisfying.

    But worst of all is the Festival. Loud, multiple stages, bad sound, angry, often violent crowds, a mad scramble to extract as much cash as possible while delivering a decidedly sub par experience. Now, I’ve never been to Summerfest, or anything like that, and I’m willing to accept that my experiences to not reflect that which they deliver, but, alas, I’m pretty sure I’ll never find out either…

  • zombie rotten mcdonald

    [edited for Canada-nice}

    ach, sorry mikey. All committed to the memory hole, I reacted poorly to a friend stopping by to tell my that my enjoyment of Summerfest and blogging of it was wrong.

    I’ll drink a beer to your honor when Tuesday comes and I can afford to go back down.

  • mikey

    Sounds like I missed sumpin’. Ahh well, that happens a lot these daze.

    But please don’t think that’s any kind of commentary on what you’re doing. I enjoy your Summerfest posts, they provide me with a kind of vicarious joy I used to get from porn. I just thought I’d do something unusual and talk about me. I guess I do that sometimes.

    Rock on, dood!

    • zombie rotten mcdonald

      yep, I figured it out. I was tired and cranky and took your post personally.

      Someone should write a blog post about how often that happens on the intertoobers.

      Anyway, I wrote a pissy comment and then took it back down.

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