Tuesday
Where does "Layabout" fall in this list?
I'm just posting this link because it's fun to look at lists of occupations. You know, like Parade Magazine's annual "What do People Make" issue? I love that issue. This one is Money Magazine's top 50 best jobs in America - but they have a bigger list of like 150 so you can look yours up and see how you stack up. Don't you just love social comparisons? Oh - and college professor appears to be the second best job in America, FYI.
Friday
Anyone know how to fix a Magic Merlin?
As I have been approaching my 35th birthday for the last few years, one internal exercise I force on myself is to try to determine exactly what my reasoning is for choosing not to have children. There are many reasons, which I have known my entire life, but I like to torture myself by reviewing the reasons just to make sure I haven't decided anything rashly or prematurely (like, say, at age 10). One reason I have come to realize is that I absolutely cannot bear childhood disappointment. It's one of those things that tears me up inside, including the reliving of my own. The optimistic innocence and eventual dashing of childhood dreams is excruciating to bear witness to.
Anyhoo, one of the more trivial but nonetheless memorable disappointments of my own childhood involved my dream of owning a Magic Merlin. My parents seemed to have no idea what sorts of things I liked, along with an inability to read my mind and know that all I wanted in the world in 1980 (could have been 1979, not sure) was a Magic Merlin. I remember for Christmas that year there was even a box that looked about the right size for a Merlin, but I opened it and it was something else (probably a doll, and I didn't like dolls).
So fast-forward about 25 years, and for Christmas 2005 my best friend sent me a box with her own Magic Merlin inside (with the original instruction booklet!). Enclosed was the following note:
"Childhood dreams can always come true! I have been meaning to send you this - I didn't make the connection until a year or two ago. I only got a Merlin because of my Uncle, otherwise I do not believe my mom would have thought it the best. I have probably had this for 20+ years. Thought I'd share it with you as I remember playing it tons..."
She knew I had always wanted one and hadn't realized that she had one all this time. It was the best gift ever! Until I put the 6 batteries in it and it wouldn't turn on. Drat! So, does anyone know how to fix one of these? My 9 year old self would love you forever.
Tuesday
Joan Jett is comin' to town!
She's playing at the Republic of Texas Biker Rally (ROT Rally) on June 3rd. I think out at the Expo Center, not sure yet. I had a dream about it last night - I was there with all the bikers. And then there was this pasture with cows in it, and all the cows were sitting upright. It gets a little fuzzy from there.
Monday
RD analysis
In my last post I escaped without adding any analysis or point of view of my own, as I am want to do. But I will tag onto Rockabilachica's recent post about the subject, and be more specific about my unpopular view.
In theory, it shouldn't be hard to tell the difference between exploitation and empowerment in the public sphere. Isn't empowerment at the very least the absence of exploitation? But here we get into the age-old debate of whether someone is empowered because they think they are. I'm sure a lot of the girls and women in Girls Gone Wild think they are empowered (or at least they did initially). Who's to say they aren't? Well, I'll go out on a limb and and say that no, they aren't empowered by that. Am i imposing my dogmatic views on them? I guess so. What about the African American student who says that without a doubt, in her mind she has never experienced racism? Can someone be objectively exploited without subjectively experiencing it? I think yes. With roller derby, it is a lot less clear cut than GGW (which is clearly run by men for men), Suicide Girls (recent article here) - run by a man for men with the veneer of individual empowerment for the models, which is basically a marketing ploy to make alt-porn consumers feel better - and even the modern-day resurgence of burlesque.
Part of the problem is this business with "reclaiming." In one of the comments under Twisty's post, a roller derby participant points out that TXRD symbols like the mudflap woman and sexually derogatory team names like the putas del fuego are their symbols, their words. Are they really? I'm not so convinced. Nor am I convinced that we have reclaimed gender epithets like "Bitch" and "Cunt," and I'm not convinced that African Americans have successfully reclaimed racial epithets. Though I have no systematic data to support this, I would venture a guess that the use of these terms outside of individual, intimate communities of women and African Americans is still considered disrespectul and has a violent connotation. Another skater wrote that she couldn't imagine what was sexy about watching women fall down, and thus the appeal had to be about the athleticism. Hello? That's some serious denial. The whole point for some seems to be that when the woman falls down, the butt goes in the air, the skirt flips up.
I have attended many performances of non-mainstream, underground, alternative (whatever you want to call it) art and music that use reclaiming and irony as the key component of the show. I can pretty confidently say that the message is totally lost on the majority of the audience who see a woman on stage and just want to see some skin and come-hither moves, already. This is roller derby's potential problem - the intention may be noble - it IS athletic! it IS about tough, strong women! - but it doesn't quite get translated amid the spanking and pillow-fighting and skirts flipping up to reveal ruffly underwear. Indeed, the bouts are often marketed as "girl-on-girl action." Is that supposed to be feminist? Or athletic? Roller Derby enthusiasts defend these aspects by emphasizing the athleticism of the sport, and explaining that the players choose what to wear. I don't have the time or patience to get into a discussion about the existence of free will or how we choose or come to prefer things, but needless to say all choices are made in particular contexts. Feminism is not simply "women doing what they want." And even if MOST of the women wore regular shorts and tee-shirts, the face of Roller Derby would still be the sexy outfit - because that's what sells. Does it make a difference if there are equal numbers of women and men (of all sexual orientations and identities) in the audience? While it definitely feels good to see lots of other women there, and it does mean something that it's not 90% men, it's important to point out that the male gaze is not limited to men. We've all been conditioned to see women (including ourselves) through the male gaze, and being gay or feminist or any other patriarchally subversive identity does not exempt us from participating in patriarchal rituals from time to time - it's pretty much unavoidable, which is a source of much frustration for me personally.
What i have always had a problem reconciling is the unquestioned, inextricable connection between "Woman" and "Sexuality." Why must so many performances and images by/of women end up being about their sexuality? Why can't it be about showcasing their skill and mastery, period? Why is it so freaking important that women "express their sexuality" in all that they do?? I don't see men running around determined to express their sexuality (well, at least not to the same extent). In my opinion, all this does is add to the already entrenched view that women as individual, thinking persons cannot be separated from their mandated role to be "sexy" or whatever. Maybe we should all, as humans, be seen as complex creatures made up of both our intellectuality (I know that's not a real word, heh heh) AND sexuality, but until we are ALL seen that way, the fact that women are singled out for this puts us at a social disadvantage relative to males. I believe this is because our culture is a product of the centuries-old view of the male/female dichotomy of males as connected to the rational-abstract (i.e. more important things) and females as connected to the body-earthly (i.e. less important things). It pisses me off that no matter how much a woman achieves, in the end she is nothing more than something to look at and/or have sex with. I see this all the fucking time in the music world - especially the more male-dominated subcultures of music.
This is a really complicated issue, and there are at least 15 side-bars that could be written about the different topics it brings up. So my wishy-washy conclusion is that some aspects of Roller Derby are feminist, or potentially feminist, but most of it is not. And that is perfectly ok, it is what it is.
In theory, it shouldn't be hard to tell the difference between exploitation and empowerment in the public sphere. Isn't empowerment at the very least the absence of exploitation? But here we get into the age-old debate of whether someone is empowered because they think they are. I'm sure a lot of the girls and women in Girls Gone Wild think they are empowered (or at least they did initially). Who's to say they aren't? Well, I'll go out on a limb and and say that no, they aren't empowered by that. Am i imposing my dogmatic views on them? I guess so. What about the African American student who says that without a doubt, in her mind she has never experienced racism? Can someone be objectively exploited without subjectively experiencing it? I think yes. With roller derby, it is a lot less clear cut than GGW (which is clearly run by men for men), Suicide Girls (recent article here) - run by a man for men with the veneer of individual empowerment for the models, which is basically a marketing ploy to make alt-porn consumers feel better - and even the modern-day resurgence of burlesque.
Part of the problem is this business with "reclaiming." In one of the comments under Twisty's post, a roller derby participant points out that TXRD symbols like the mudflap woman and sexually derogatory team names like the putas del fuego are their symbols, their words. Are they really? I'm not so convinced. Nor am I convinced that we have reclaimed gender epithets like "Bitch" and "Cunt," and I'm not convinced that African Americans have successfully reclaimed racial epithets. Though I have no systematic data to support this, I would venture a guess that the use of these terms outside of individual, intimate communities of women and African Americans is still considered disrespectul and has a violent connotation. Another skater wrote that she couldn't imagine what was sexy about watching women fall down, and thus the appeal had to be about the athleticism. Hello? That's some serious denial. The whole point for some seems to be that when the woman falls down, the butt goes in the air, the skirt flips up.
I have attended many performances of non-mainstream, underground, alternative (whatever you want to call it) art and music that use reclaiming and irony as the key component of the show. I can pretty confidently say that the message is totally lost on the majority of the audience who see a woman on stage and just want to see some skin and come-hither moves, already. This is roller derby's potential problem - the intention may be noble - it IS athletic! it IS about tough, strong women! - but it doesn't quite get translated amid the spanking and pillow-fighting and skirts flipping up to reveal ruffly underwear. Indeed, the bouts are often marketed as "girl-on-girl action." Is that supposed to be feminist? Or athletic? Roller Derby enthusiasts defend these aspects by emphasizing the athleticism of the sport, and explaining that the players choose what to wear. I don't have the time or patience to get into a discussion about the existence of free will or how we choose or come to prefer things, but needless to say all choices are made in particular contexts. Feminism is not simply "women doing what they want." And even if MOST of the women wore regular shorts and tee-shirts, the face of Roller Derby would still be the sexy outfit - because that's what sells. Does it make a difference if there are equal numbers of women and men (of all sexual orientations and identities) in the audience? While it definitely feels good to see lots of other women there, and it does mean something that it's not 90% men, it's important to point out that the male gaze is not limited to men. We've all been conditioned to see women (including ourselves) through the male gaze, and being gay or feminist or any other patriarchally subversive identity does not exempt us from participating in patriarchal rituals from time to time - it's pretty much unavoidable, which is a source of much frustration for me personally.
What i have always had a problem reconciling is the unquestioned, inextricable connection between "Woman" and "Sexuality." Why must so many performances and images by/of women end up being about their sexuality? Why can't it be about showcasing their skill and mastery, period? Why is it so freaking important that women "express their sexuality" in all that they do?? I don't see men running around determined to express their sexuality (well, at least not to the same extent). In my opinion, all this does is add to the already entrenched view that women as individual, thinking persons cannot be separated from their mandated role to be "sexy" or whatever. Maybe we should all, as humans, be seen as complex creatures made up of both our intellectuality (I know that's not a real word, heh heh) AND sexuality, but until we are ALL seen that way, the fact that women are singled out for this puts us at a social disadvantage relative to males. I believe this is because our culture is a product of the centuries-old view of the male/female dichotomy of males as connected to the rational-abstract (i.e. more important things) and females as connected to the body-earthly (i.e. less important things). It pisses me off that no matter how much a woman achieves, in the end she is nothing more than something to look at and/or have sex with. I see this all the fucking time in the music world - especially the more male-dominated subcultures of music.
This is a really complicated issue, and there are at least 15 side-bars that could be written about the different topics it brings up. So my wishy-washy conclusion is that some aspects of Roller Derby are feminist, or potentially feminist, but most of it is not. And that is perfectly ok, it is what it is.
Thursday
Roller derby blues
I am compelled to repost this little gem, from the I Blame the Patriarchy blog, as it sums up my opinion of Roller Derby pretty well:
"Take, for example, that, despite the Rollergirls’ impressive skaterly talents, the 'sport' is only nominally about skating. You have already guessed what it’s actually about, but I’ll tell you anyway: sex. That’s right, sex, only not real sex, such as the kind we could all be having if Hugh Hefner hadn’t ruined it for everybody, but phony sex as defined by the horndog ideology of the pornocracy. The roller derby is an example of what you might, if you were me, call 'proto-porn'—a non-penetrative, G-rated, but nevertheless two-dimensional, stereotypical, and bogus picture of female sexuality generated from an amorphous plasma of cultural misogyny. It’s kindergarten burlesque."
Even though she's describing the specific activities of Austin's flat track league, I think her basic points apply to the banked track league too. It pisses me off that to be viable, they have to sexualize it and make it pleasing to the stereotypical "man." And in this case, much like the Suicide Girls, it's marketed to the alterno-punk-rocker man, who can feel like he's participating in something subversive when it's just the same old shit in a different wrapper.
"Take, for example, that, despite the Rollergirls’ impressive skaterly talents, the 'sport' is only nominally about skating. You have already guessed what it’s actually about, but I’ll tell you anyway: sex. That’s right, sex, only not real sex, such as the kind we could all be having if Hugh Hefner hadn’t ruined it for everybody, but phony sex as defined by the horndog ideology of the pornocracy. The roller derby is an example of what you might, if you were me, call 'proto-porn'—a non-penetrative, G-rated, but nevertheless two-dimensional, stereotypical, and bogus picture of female sexuality generated from an amorphous plasma of cultural misogyny. It’s kindergarten burlesque."
Even though she's describing the specific activities of Austin's flat track league, I think her basic points apply to the banked track league too. It pisses me off that to be viable, they have to sexualize it and make it pleasing to the stereotypical "man." And in this case, much like the Suicide Girls, it's marketed to the alterno-punk-rocker man, who can feel like he's participating in something subversive when it's just the same old shit in a different wrapper.
Tuesday
At last, my SXSW 2006 report
I am so behind on blogging. First I have to report on SXSW, which was like a month ago and nobody cares at this point, but here goes:
The week was decidedly low-key for me - sans wristband, which I determined last year to be not worth the money, I returned to my day-show/hanger-on moocher role of the past. Lovejoy's was home base of course, so if I was too lazy to seek out shows elsewhere, there was always music at the LJ. Here are the highlights of my week!
Wednesday, March 15: First off, and a pleasant surprise, was Secret Weapons, a local garagey band with a killer lady on lead guitar and vocals. And they have a song about the HEB on Oltorf & S. Congress. I recommend seeing them around town if you can. Here is a murky picture of them:
Next that day, still at Lovejoy's, was Militant Babies, led by LJ bartender Davis on drums (ex-Fivehead). They were ok; it got a little guitar-wankery for me at times, but the songs Davis sang on were great:
Thursday, March 16: One of the best things that happened to me that week was biking from S. Congress to Ms. Bea's on E. 6th street ostensibly to see Von Iva play in the afternoon, but instead finding Erase Errata setting up on The Rambler stage:
I fell in love with The Rambler, a mobile stage. Here's the lineup written on the side of the truck:
Later that night, I returned to Ms. Bea's to see Von Iva, at last. Ever the shameless groupie when it comes to anything 7 Year Bitch, I couldn't wait to see Liz Davis after 10 years of a 7 Year Bitch-less life. Of course being the shy girl, I admire from afar.... Von Iva, from San Francisco, was pretty damn good in their own right. Sort of punky with a blues feel on the vocals (think Mia Zapata), and a very fun live show. Unfortunately I had to endure some horrible bands that went on right before them (everyone on the patio actually left in droves when one "noise" band started playing.). I took a walk down E. Sixth to get away.
I swear she's not holding her boob - just gesturing:
Here's Liz (she plays with her eyes closed a lot). I remember all the women in 7 Year Bitch had the arm band tattoo you see here, and I was so entranced by that at the time (1994):
Also on Thursday (I was biking all over the joint that day!) was the Schuba's party at Yard Dog, a short bike ride from home. I had skipped this particular party in years past, thinking it would be too crowded, but it was pretty fabulous. All the Miller Lite you could drink (woo), and bands like KEXP darlings Tapes 'n Tapes from Minneapolis, and steady Chicago favorites the Ponys. I also found out that apparently Neil Young was at this party, too. Maybe even at the same time I was! The only celebrity sighting I have to report is the guy from the Outback Steakhouse commercials, who apparently is some wildly popular satirical folk singer from New Zealand.
Ponys! I was so close I was able to find out that the singer/head Pony has really, really, bad teeth.
Other half of the Ponys!
Finally, on Thursday night I witnessed one of those weird SXSW things that instantly become legend. A group of us was hanging around outside of the entrance to Lovejoy's watching the freak show, and all of a sudden there is this dude in the alley climbing into a bunch of plastic wrap and a motorized pump is filling it with air. It takes shape into a giant clear plastic bubble, with the dude inside. Some other dudes in blow-up creature suits are around him, and they all take off in a little march down sixth street, the dude walking in his bubble like a hamster. I admit, at first I was jaded and assumed the whole thing was a corporate publicity stunt a la Red Bull or Gibson Guitars, and scoffed at everyone who glommed around the guy snapping pictures like lemmings. But then, word spreads quickly that it's actually the lead singer of the Flaming Lips, Wayne Coyne, who was about to play a "secret" show that night at Eternal, around the corner from Lovejoy's. Ever the lemming, I managed to snap this picture as they trotted off into the night:
If you look really closely, you can see Coyne in the bubble.
Friday, March 17th: This day I took it super easy, sipping AJ Porter at LJ while some mediocre bands played. The earplugs helped. I had two things planned - catch The Divorce at some random magazine/label party down the street at The Drink (eww), and then run over to the Lucky Lounge to see Visqueen who were playing an unofficial party for a label called Justice Records. I got upstairs at The Drink with plenty of time to see The Divorce, from Seattle. This was the definite highlight so far -- and found myself a tad obsessed with the lead singer (really, did I need to take THAT many pictures of them??). Check out The Divorce's music at www.myspace.com/thedivorce. I luv these boys.
(check out the icky stripper poles on the stage - what the hell goes on at this bar?)
Exhilarated, I sprinted over to the Lucky Lounge and saw Visqueen on stage. I zoomed up to the front of the crowed, started rocking out, only to hear the last few bars of their last song. Thank you, good night! Rachel was in town to sing backing vocals for all of Neko Case's performances, and this was Visqueen's only show, alas.
Saturday, March 18th: This day was spent with M., as he was finally done toiling at Lovejoy's for the week. We biked over to Jovita's for the series of bands sponsored by Twangfest, a St. Louis festival. First up was Two Car Garage, from Columbus, Ohio. They play that hard rock twang that reminded me a lot of Radio Nationals, a Seattle band I used to like. They were really loud but in a good, stand up and take notice kind of way. We had this little rickety table right by the side of the stage where we ate migas and a taco salad and drank coffee. Yay for Jovita's.
Two Car Garage:
The main reason for going to Jovita's that day was so I could see The Long Winters, another great Seattle band. I hadn't seen them since the Capitol Hill Block Party in 2001 or 2002, and I admire John Roderick's songwriting a lot. They have various incarnations, but today it was just two of them, guitar and bass with vocal harmonies. Nice! I feel a sort of kindred relationship to Roderick, as he also grew up in Anchorage. He managed to become cool, though, unlike most of us. At one point in his life he walked from Amsterdam to Istanbul.
This day Roderick looked a bit like he was in the witness protection program:
Saturday night, thanks to one of M.'s friends who works at Stubb's, we were let in to the all-star show of the week: What Made Milwaukee Famous, Rhett Miller, Roseanne Cash, Lyle Lovett, and The Pretenders. I was so thrilled for WMMF - up on the big stage at Stubb's, bathed in lights...sigh. They sounded great, and will someone please sign them already? I heard rumors of Barsuk, but no news yet.
Rhett Miller, cute as a button as always:
Roseanne Cash (She sang a duet with Lovett while I was in the bathroom):
A grainy Mr. Lovett, who was the highlight of the whole evening, aside from the drunken assholes standing by us during his set. I love how all the band members wear suits:
Chrissy Hynde & The Pretenders!
Ms. Hynde, an animal rights activist, asked if anyone had ever actually seen a slaughter house (appropo as we were all standing behind a barbeque restaurant), and commented that it looked a lot like "this" - meaning all of us standing there crammed in to a fenced-in space. I have to say it wasn't quite that bad, as us humans could roam around quite freely and it was relatively clean that night - but I enjoyed her point. It was truly awesome to see her but I was pretty beat by then, so we left before her encore (I later heard there were two).
And that concludes my SXSW odyssey. I'm pooped just writing about it! It was all free, all fun, and I can't wait for next year.
The week was decidedly low-key for me - sans wristband, which I determined last year to be not worth the money, I returned to my day-show/hanger-on moocher role of the past. Lovejoy's was home base of course, so if I was too lazy to seek out shows elsewhere, there was always music at the LJ. Here are the highlights of my week!
Wednesday, March 15: First off, and a pleasant surprise, was Secret Weapons, a local garagey band with a killer lady on lead guitar and vocals. And they have a song about the HEB on Oltorf & S. Congress. I recommend seeing them around town if you can. Here is a murky picture of them:
Next that day, still at Lovejoy's, was Militant Babies, led by LJ bartender Davis on drums (ex-Fivehead). They were ok; it got a little guitar-wankery for me at times, but the songs Davis sang on were great:
Thursday, March 16: One of the best things that happened to me that week was biking from S. Congress to Ms. Bea's on E. 6th street ostensibly to see Von Iva play in the afternoon, but instead finding Erase Errata setting up on The Rambler stage:
I fell in love with The Rambler, a mobile stage. Here's the lineup written on the side of the truck:
Later that night, I returned to Ms. Bea's to see Von Iva, at last. Ever the shameless groupie when it comes to anything 7 Year Bitch, I couldn't wait to see Liz Davis after 10 years of a 7 Year Bitch-less life. Of course being the shy girl, I admire from afar.... Von Iva, from San Francisco, was pretty damn good in their own right. Sort of punky with a blues feel on the vocals (think Mia Zapata), and a very fun live show. Unfortunately I had to endure some horrible bands that went on right before them (everyone on the patio actually left in droves when one "noise" band started playing.). I took a walk down E. Sixth to get away.
I swear she's not holding her boob - just gesturing:
Here's Liz (she plays with her eyes closed a lot). I remember all the women in 7 Year Bitch had the arm band tattoo you see here, and I was so entranced by that at the time (1994):
Also on Thursday (I was biking all over the joint that day!) was the Schuba's party at Yard Dog, a short bike ride from home. I had skipped this particular party in years past, thinking it would be too crowded, but it was pretty fabulous. All the Miller Lite you could drink (woo), and bands like KEXP darlings Tapes 'n Tapes from Minneapolis, and steady Chicago favorites the Ponys. I also found out that apparently Neil Young was at this party, too. Maybe even at the same time I was! The only celebrity sighting I have to report is the guy from the Outback Steakhouse commercials, who apparently is some wildly popular satirical folk singer from New Zealand.
Ponys! I was so close I was able to find out that the singer/head Pony has really, really, bad teeth.
Other half of the Ponys!
Finally, on Thursday night I witnessed one of those weird SXSW things that instantly become legend. A group of us was hanging around outside of the entrance to Lovejoy's watching the freak show, and all of a sudden there is this dude in the alley climbing into a bunch of plastic wrap and a motorized pump is filling it with air. It takes shape into a giant clear plastic bubble, with the dude inside. Some other dudes in blow-up creature suits are around him, and they all take off in a little march down sixth street, the dude walking in his bubble like a hamster. I admit, at first I was jaded and assumed the whole thing was a corporate publicity stunt a la Red Bull or Gibson Guitars, and scoffed at everyone who glommed around the guy snapping pictures like lemmings. But then, word spreads quickly that it's actually the lead singer of the Flaming Lips, Wayne Coyne, who was about to play a "secret" show that night at Eternal, around the corner from Lovejoy's. Ever the lemming, I managed to snap this picture as they trotted off into the night:
If you look really closely, you can see Coyne in the bubble.
Friday, March 17th: This day I took it super easy, sipping AJ Porter at LJ while some mediocre bands played. The earplugs helped. I had two things planned - catch The Divorce at some random magazine/label party down the street at The Drink (eww), and then run over to the Lucky Lounge to see Visqueen who were playing an unofficial party for a label called Justice Records. I got upstairs at The Drink with plenty of time to see The Divorce, from Seattle. This was the definite highlight so far -- and found myself a tad obsessed with the lead singer (really, did I need to take THAT many pictures of them??). Check out The Divorce's music at www.myspace.com/thedivorce. I luv these boys.
(check out the icky stripper poles on the stage - what the hell goes on at this bar?)
Exhilarated, I sprinted over to the Lucky Lounge and saw Visqueen on stage. I zoomed up to the front of the crowed, started rocking out, only to hear the last few bars of their last song. Thank you, good night! Rachel was in town to sing backing vocals for all of Neko Case's performances, and this was Visqueen's only show, alas.
Saturday, March 18th: This day was spent with M., as he was finally done toiling at Lovejoy's for the week. We biked over to Jovita's for the series of bands sponsored by Twangfest, a St. Louis festival. First up was Two Car Garage, from Columbus, Ohio. They play that hard rock twang that reminded me a lot of Radio Nationals, a Seattle band I used to like. They were really loud but in a good, stand up and take notice kind of way. We had this little rickety table right by the side of the stage where we ate migas and a taco salad and drank coffee. Yay for Jovita's.
Two Car Garage:
The main reason for going to Jovita's that day was so I could see The Long Winters, another great Seattle band. I hadn't seen them since the Capitol Hill Block Party in 2001 or 2002, and I admire John Roderick's songwriting a lot. They have various incarnations, but today it was just two of them, guitar and bass with vocal harmonies. Nice! I feel a sort of kindred relationship to Roderick, as he also grew up in Anchorage. He managed to become cool, though, unlike most of us. At one point in his life he walked from Amsterdam to Istanbul.
This day Roderick looked a bit like he was in the witness protection program:
Saturday night, thanks to one of M.'s friends who works at Stubb's, we were let in to the all-star show of the week: What Made Milwaukee Famous, Rhett Miller, Roseanne Cash, Lyle Lovett, and The Pretenders. I was so thrilled for WMMF - up on the big stage at Stubb's, bathed in lights...sigh. They sounded great, and will someone please sign them already? I heard rumors of Barsuk, but no news yet.
Rhett Miller, cute as a button as always:
Roseanne Cash (She sang a duet with Lovett while I was in the bathroom):
A grainy Mr. Lovett, who was the highlight of the whole evening, aside from the drunken assholes standing by us during his set. I love how all the band members wear suits:
Chrissy Hynde & The Pretenders!
Ms. Hynde, an animal rights activist, asked if anyone had ever actually seen a slaughter house (appropo as we were all standing behind a barbeque restaurant), and commented that it looked a lot like "this" - meaning all of us standing there crammed in to a fenced-in space. I have to say it wasn't quite that bad, as us humans could roam around quite freely and it was relatively clean that night - but I enjoyed her point. It was truly awesome to see her but I was pretty beat by then, so we left before her encore (I later heard there were two).
And that concludes my SXSW odyssey. I'm pooped just writing about it! It was all free, all fun, and I can't wait for next year.
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