Edgefield Outting
It's June 29th. The rest of the country's sweltering, but we're still wearing sweaters. It's okay. I mean when it rained the other night, everyone complained, but I liked it because nothing on earth smell's better than the summer rain.
And yet. I'm still askin: Summer, where are you?
Regardless, Miss Bousquet and I drove out along the gorge last night to see My Morning Jacket at Edgefield. A live outdoor performance surrounded by grapevines and herb gardens—a very summer thing to do. Jim James' voice washed through the beer garden. We sat at a picnic and drank ale.
I'm a simple person and so maybe my favorite part of the whole night was just the way the light looked cutting through the canopy.
bad scene, everyone's fault
Santa brought Jawbreaker, Dear You on vinyl this year. I was reading the song lyrics in the liner notes and taking a little trip back in time this morning. Remember "Bad Scene, Everyone's Fault"? I can't be entirely certain, but I'm pretty sure I've been to a party exactly like this. Maybe even recently.
Acoustic Greenhornes
Sometimes bands come through town that I really do want to see, but I know myself and realize that on these bleak, murky nights when it gets dark at 4:30, I realistically won't be awake when they hit the stage at Berbati's around midnight. All is not lost, though, because the good ones play at Music Millennium beforehand—for free! Aside from how rad it is to see a band fully plugged in and ripping holes in the airspace, this acoustic set by the Greenhornes was very warm and intimate. I just leaned up against the L-R section of cd racks and soaked it in.
Listen to this and see what I mean: My Sparrow
Afterwards, food at Dots, which, bedecked with ghostly colored lights, is looking very lovely at this time of year.
Diamonds and Rust
Good morning. Halloween is coming. Not sure if this happens everywhere, but in Portland people hang Halloween lights instead of Christmas lights. Yep. Strings of orange and purple lit up the night on our bike ride down to the beer store.
Anyhoo, I have something for you. Judas Priest, covering Joan Baez's "Diamonds and Rust." Sung by Joan or Rob, it's a great song—a bit of a poem about when she got dumped by Bob Dylan, or, like, frozen out by him, and how even a decade later, the ghost of it still lingers.
I can't listen to Joan Baez a lot. It gets a little operatic for me, or something. Not rockin' enough. But I do think she's a bad ass. If you don't agree, or even if you do, you should watch this—Joan Baez: How Sweet The Sound.
And without further ado:
For Melissa
Along with it being October 13th, today is the anniversary of my big sister's birth. So ... below, a song for her. Fifteen, covering Jawbreaker. This is to kick her morning in the ass. It's also as a tribute to the old days back on the front range, when she was at the 12th Street house and I was at the 20th Street house, and when we both lived on Marine Street, and when the nights were alternately too hot or too cold, and when Jawbreaker got us through the many disappointments of young adult life.
Happy Birthday Melissa!