I pulled a double-header last night, which is something I may be getting too old to do unless I take the next day off, but it was pretty well worth it. I started the evening in Durham at Motorco with Ash, for the pre-party for this weekend’s two day 60 band Death To False Hope Records 2 Year Anniversary festival. If I could be in two places at once, I would be there this weekend, but I can’t be. Maybe you should be, though, and if you can’t be, you should definitely read about how fantastic Scotty, DTFH, and this festival are going to be. I met Scotty through Ash, and he is a truly excellent, brilliant human being.
(I wish I could be in two places at once. Or three, or four, sometimes, actually. I gotta get on that cloning thing. It would also solve the Brian Fallon still hasn’t brought me coffee problem that Martha and I suffer from occasionally, as well.)
Because I had to scoot back to Chapel Hill for a show at the 506, I didn’t get to stick around for the two bands I really wanted to see — Arliss Nancy, and J Kutchma of Red Collar in his solo incarnation (which, from Ash, I hear he was fantastic as always) — but I did get to catch Bobby’s Fever, a straight up punk trio, and Jeff Rowe, a solo punk-with-an-acoustic-guitar of the variety of which I am terrifically fond. Both were excellent; Bobby’s Fever in particular made me want to see more punk, which Ash is happy to oblige me on, both because sometimes you just want your face rocked off, and because punk is hella fun to shoot. As a photographer, punk is a goldmine, and when the music is good, like Bobby’s Fever are, it’s even better. Rowe played a bunch of originals, and the guy’s got a huge voice on him — he sounded fantastic. Then he got a few shots in him, and, as he said, punks doing shots always devolves into punks doing covers; one from a Boston band that neither Ash nor I could identify, a fairly trainwrecky but hilarious Bouncing Souls cover, and a sing-along version of “American Girl” that sent me out of Motorco on a high note. It was a great set, and I’d love to see him again.
(Ironically, while I was at a punk show, Pam and her mohawk were in Chicago seeing Drivin’ and Cryin’, a fact that I found so riotously funny that I had to sit down and put my head between my knees to keep from hyperventilating. I don’t think I can explain the humor inherent in that to anyone who isn’t me or Ash or Pam, but trust me: fucking hilarious.)
I will be elsewhere tonight and tomorrow, but if that schedule up there looks good to you, you can’t beat the price ($25/two days) and the celebration and the bands and the locations. So since I won’t be there, maybe you should be. (It’s already started. What are you waiting for?)
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I dreamed this morning that you and I were about to perform a great Rock Band version of “Centerfield” but the alarm went off before we could start – boo.