Paleo opened the Saturday by pronouncing “I am invoking Guest Privileges to insist that we see Roger Clyne and the Peacemakers, or there will be trouble….” Since I was on the same page, we had no trouble.
We had a fine breakfast at Ma Fischers, local greasy spoon institution, and then, it was time once again. The day was warm and beautiful, and as ever, the Emerging Artists series did us right, with an early set by Madison bluegrass outfit Wheelhouse. They sold me with a song called “No Hockey in Milwaukee (but a girl in St. Paul), which regrettably is not recorded yet. The singer hit me with the hard sell: “10 bucks for one CD, all three for 20, which goes to record that song!” Guess what I did. Also, Wheelhouse has their own whiskey. No, really. This is Wisconsin; we are serious about our drinking….
The following act was Chicago’s Humphrey-McKeown, which impressed Paleo, and they were giving their CD away. They don’t have their own booze, though. However, at this time, the Vikings landed:
Paleo insists that his tattoo says “Bite me”. I wasn’t going to look at his ass to confirm.
We watched Milwaukee locals Zach Pietrini Band for a while, but they didn’t really do anything for any of us, so it was guilty pleasure time; moving north 2 stages to see John Waite. Yes, THAT John Waite.
Since seeing his name in the lineup, I had been singing “Missing You” to myself occasionally, and the previous night I heard Wife Sublime listening to music previews on the Summerfest App, and since then the damn ear worm had latched itself on my cerebellum like that creature that crawled into Chekov’s ear in the Wrath of Khan.
But what I didn’t expect was just how MANY of his songs we knew. We had a swell time, sang and danced along; he was still in great form and we waited for the middle age white women to leave after he was done. Because next up on the stage was RCPM, and this was our mission.
As blog friend mikey will tell you, Roger Clyne is pretty awesome and this tour was in celebration of the anniversary of “Fizzy Buzzy Big and Buzzy”. And he was excellent, and the music was fun. That is until this dickwad showed up and climbed on the bleachers to stand in front of me. This was my view for most of the show:
Text exchange with Snag:
If I punch the guy standing in front of me in his fucking melon, will you defend me?
That’s a massive head. As your lawyer, I advise you to punch it.
To make matters worse, he and his friends were dropping all their empties on the ground at their feet. OF COURSE they were all light beers:
I feel certain that Big Melon Dude is a FIB. Paleo sums up my feelings perfectly:
Anyway, we still enjoyed RCPM quite a bit. We bought CDs, then hung out at the merch tent, because the only thing cooler would have been getting a picture with me, Paleo and Roger for mikey; but Roger never came out. We got some food, then realized that if we scampered, we could get to the liquor store and then sit on our deck drinking whiskey and shooting the shit. Which we then did.
Paleo hit the sheets and I did a blog post.