the whole love

On June 26, 2015, the United States Supreme Court legalized gay marriage across the 50 states, the U.S. Women's National Team beat China in the quarterfinals of the World Cup, and Wilco played its first ever all-acoustic set at the fourth staging of the Solid Sound Festival. What a weekend it was!

Solid Sound Festival, June 26-28, 2015: Every other year: It's official now. Honestly, I'm glad for the schedule, and I'm sure the good people of North Adams don't mind not dealing with us on an annual basis. And it gives me something to look forward to when my local franchise doesn't win the World Series (though the NBA Finals were awfully fun this year). Anyway, you know the drill -- all the Wilco-related projects will come at the end.



For our gang, Solid Sound always starts on Thursday, not only with arrival and settling in, but a warm, welcoming dinner and a leisurely walkabout on the museum grounds before the crowds appear -- and the stages are set. The proceedings appeared slightly further behind schedule this time, but hey, Friday is kind of a soft launch anyway.

As such, Friday started with a jaunt around the museum, revisiting older installations and checking out newer exhibits. Not gonna lie -- we made a beeline for the Wilco stage setup, and it was fun to see the equipment up close, beating the view of even the most intimate shows. However, we could've used more consistency with the security detail. Early on, we were shooed off the rug, but later in the weekend, we saw various people donning instruments and even sitting on the drum kit. Hey, kudos to those who got through!

Also deserving of praise was Glenn Kotche's subtle bathroom installation. I didn't notice the chimes and gongs on first viewing, but they were impossible to miss once you knew where to look. You gotta love any project that lets you get your hands on the work, though germaphobes might feel differently. Conversely, a wag of the finger to the Wilco timeline project, which didn't open until Saturday. Why the lag?

Speaking of second takes, Francesco Clemente's paintings managed to raise eyebrows among our group, and it took a repeat trip to the loft to settle the debate. I can't even guess as to how we missed it the first time.

Mikael Jorgenson provided our first dose of music for the day with his solo set. Club B-10 indeed felt like a club, with a strict one-in-one-out policy when we arrived. After a short wait, we made our way in; it turned out the room was very small and simply couldn't accommodate a lot of people. Once inside, we watched as Mike spun a soundtrack to accompany a video playing in the foreground (a train journey during our segment), but alas, we didn't stay long, as the room was too hot and stuffy for our liking.

Back on the main stage, Real Estate opened the proceedings on Joe's Field, but IMHO, they weren't a great fit for the large expanse. Despite their lovely guitars, the songs tended to run into each other, and my mind wandered for much of their set. However, their all-instrumental after-hours show in the courtyard against the video display was fantastic. Funny what a change in venue, hour, and context can do for the music! If I weren't so tired, I could've stayed a lot longer.

Saturday is always the big day at the festival, and it required actual choices this year. After sprinting across the field to set down the hallowed tarp, many of us dispersed to our preferred acts. A few of us headed over to the comedy stage at the Hunter Center to take in Superego, which was high on my list of must-sees. Alas, it was the only comedy I caught for the day, but I got my HR Giger-Werner Herzog-Ayn Rand trifecta, so no complaints at all.

From there, I made my way to Bill Frisell and Sam Amidon in Courtyard C. I've wanted to see Sam Amidon for a while now, particularly since his appearance at the Watkins Family Hour last December, but their collaboration was surprising, to say the least. I guess I was expecting a more accessible set, but they were in their own world. At one point, Sam squawked like a bird of prey over the accompaniment of his violin and Bill's guitar. Still, their set was beautiful and haunting, and it didn't hurt that they closed with the Kinks "Tired of Waiting," albeit slowed and stripped down enough that it wasn't immediately recognizable. I'd be lying if I said I fully understood their set, but I appreciated the collaboration.

Back at Joe's Field, the acts had each been moved up an hour, due to reports of the coming storm. However, the order remained the same, so Richard Thompson took his slot to open the day. I first saw Richard Thompson about 20 years ago, opening for Crowded House, but I really have no memory of that performance, and I'm entirely the wrong person to talk to regarding his legacy, influence, and discography. My one takeaway from this gig: He's a tough, old rocker. Unlike, say, Real Estate, this three-man setup (occasionally joined by members of Tweedy) held our attention with a driving, immediate performance, and I imagine a sizable contingent of the audience were more than pleased to catch him and NRBQ, all on the same day. (Believe it or not, I'm a little too young and a little too female to qualify.)



In an abrupt change of pace, Mac DeMarco followed Richard Thompson. I didn't know a ton about Mac and his band before the gig, except that they were young, catchy, and prone to crowd surfing, but like many other attendees, I loved their set. Maybe in another album or two, they'll learn how to write a bridge, but the tunes were instantly enjoyable, and the band antics were mostly harmless. They lit up a gray Saturday and offered a silly, shambling, and altogether delightful appetizer for Wilco's show. Due to the rain, we couldn't stick around for Cibo Matto's set with Harmonium Mountain later in the night -- in fact, missing Cibo Matto was one of my main regrets from the weekend, but thus is the way of festivals.

Sunday is the relatively calm day, and Joe's Field was fairly empty in the opening hours, as the early birds flocked to the Wilco signing session (not to mention the fans who had to get back to their normal lives and couldn't linger for a third day). A few of us went to the Glenn Kotche and Jeffrey Zeigler session, though I didn't make it to the fan collaboration section. But in the segment I saw, Glenn's trademark playfulness and experimentation shone through, as he mixed everyday incidental sounds with his own cadences and innovations. It's a privilege to hear the world through his ears for a few minutes at a time.

The final trip to Joe's Field started with the Felice Brothers, who are regulars at Hardly Strictly, so I kinda feel like I've seen them a million times before. Up close, they reminded me a little of the Pogues and once again kept our toes tapping ahead of Tweedy. The gathered Felice Brothers fans seemed pleased by their set. Who am I to argue?

But what about Wilco, you ask? I'm getting there! The fest was broken up into three distinct headliner sets: Wilco acoustic on Friday, Wilco traditional on Saturday, and Tweedy and friends on Sunday. I hardly sweated the details; three nights of Wilco and/or Tweedy was all I needed to hear.

Get this: The blog tells me I haven't seen Wilco since Solid Sound in 2013, as if I weren't pumped enough over the occasion of the band's first ever all-acoustic show. It's kind of hard to believe so much time has passed on both counts -- not only since my last Wilco show, but that it took them so long to go the all-unplugged route. I know my reason; what's the band's excuse?

Anyway, Wilco has long opened up its setlist, so if you've seen the band enough or at least follow concert reports, rarities may not be rarities these days. I can only report on what jumped out at me, and right up there is "Bull Black Nova." As it turns out, I've heard it solo acoustic before, but it was still a huge treat to get the rest of the band on this killer track.

I suppose it's never surprising that any Jeff Tweedy-penned can be stripped to its acoustic roots, but certain songs are less expected than others. Take "Hoodoo Voodoo," which has become an all-out jamboree, but the band honored it nonetheless without sacrificing all the players' contributions.

At this point in my fandom, I live for old favorites, and the bluegrass version of "I Got You" is the fastest way to perk up my years. Add in the Sesame Street version of "Outta Mind" and the Daniel Johnston cover "True Love Will Find You in the End," and I'll leave an exceedingly happy camper.

Saturday was perhaps the most straightforward set, as the band delivered its usual electric output. The rain remained a light drizzle for most of the show, and only a few songs had to be sacrificed from the encore. The X factor for me could be summed up in three songs: "Secret of the Sea," which I hadn't heard in a long time; "Let's Not Get Carried Away," which may be too good to ever see an official release; and "Panthers" for sheer obscurity. Make that four -- "Either Way" popped up, and though it's not exactly an obscure tune, at least they finally played it at a show I attended. How do you like them deep cuts? By the way, the downpour delivered later in the night, but by then, we were full of pizza and other carbs.



Tweedy capped off the festival on Sunday with their typical set I've finally been able to see a number of times now. Their show didn't lose much on the larger stage, and the already stand-out tracks ("Diamond Light," "Love Like a Wire") shone even brighter. Then again, I first saw them at Hardly Strictly, so I shouldn't be surprised they could play to the bleachers.

Halfway through the proceedings, Jeff broke off into his solo acoustic segment, and the celebration really began. One by one, various friends and guests made their way to the stage for specially selected songs. The highlights are too numerous to name, but I'll cite a few anyway. I gotta start with "Into the Groove," which is a seminal track from my youth. I joked that Cibo Matto should plug in their groovy electronics for "Spiders," but they hit upon a much better choice on their own, even if Jeff pretended to have never heard of Madonna (even as he proceeded to John Prine with the Felice Brothers).

So many songs from this segment were simply beautiful, including "Harvest Moon" with Luluc; "Chinese Apple" with Glenn Kotche and Ryley Walker; and "Be Not So Fearful" with Wilco's own John and Pat. But if you're going to finish out a three-day festival, you gotta go with the singalongs. The one-two punch of "Give Back the Key to My Heart" and "California Stars" is hard to beat in this regard, with their numerous opportunities for solos, vamping, and all-out harmonies among a couple dozen(ish) musicians, not to mention the help of several thousand fans.



This weekend will be remembered for larger events, but I can't think of any place I'd rather be to celebrate history being made. See you in 2017!

See also:
» Solid Sound 2013: the boys are back in town
» Solid Sound 2011: you can tell that i'm not lying
» Solid Sound 2010: trees held us in on all four sides

extra sugar, extra salt, extra oil, and MSG

Where does the time go?? For starters, I had to survive both the NLDS and the NLCS, and now that the calm has temporarily descended until the World Series begins, I can turn my attention to loose ends. There's absolutely no reason for me to post this review -- other than for personal record keeping -- especially two weeks after the fact, but I might as well finish up my Hardly Strictly coverage with Cibo Matto at the Chapel.

Cibo Matto, the Chapel, Oct. 4, 2014: Speaking of the NLDS, we tore ourselves away from the game during the 14th inning to make our way across town to this show. On the 22 Fillmore, we got news of Brandon Belt's homer at the top of the 18th, but the walk down Valencia was a showcase of my most schizophrenic urges, as I stuck my head in every doorway with a TV, while at the same time denying I needed to watch the remainder of the game. Fortunately, we arrived at the Chapel during the last at-bat, where the Giants struck out the Nationals and capped a 6-hour-plus contest. The room erupted, and we were still in time to catch the opening band. I wonder if Cibo Matto had any idea how the audience might've welcomed them otherwise ...

I was excited for this show, as their set at Hardly Strictly the day before wasn't enough for me. To start, the night was a lot cooler, even in the Mission. The sold out crowd was probably at least as cozy, but based on overheard conversations and random chatter, it seemed a lot of us had NLDS energy to dance off.

As expected, Cibo Matto turned out a longer version of their festival set, bringing back many of the tunes and the banter (Big Sur, nature, water). At one point, Yuka's setup stalled, and Miho went slightly off-script to give her time, but I'm pretty sure the audience welcomed the extra chatter. I loved seeing Yuka and Miho's dance moves close up, and you couldn't help but smile at the sight of the entire band springing up and down in unison (kinda).

I have no idea why this surprised me, but judging by the fans directly around me, Cibo Matto has a fair-sized following among gay men. What can I say? It was the '90s, and despite obvious female and gay figureheads among the major recording artists, the indie rock scene was dominated by straight white men. Anyway, I had a blast to be disabused of my notions among this adoring, reverent, and energetic crowd.

No-brainer No. 2: I think this is the first time Nels Cline has officially toured with Cibo Matto, and his influence was all over their sound. Cibo Matto has always been known for its unusual, unpredictable hybrid rhythms, but Nels jolted the pace from time to time with hard notes and sonic slaps across your earholes. This should surprise no one that songs both old and new sounded almost exactly as you'd expect when you cross Cibo Matto and Nels Cline. However, if you're expecting the Nels Cline show, think again -- this was all Cibo Matto, albeit the 2014 incarnation.

On our way out, we ran into a few familiar faces scheduled to appear at the festival the next day. It was lovely to see them, but honestly, we had the equivalent of an 18-inning game awaiting us the next day. Still, "Birthday Cake" might qualify as a walk-off closer, as far as gigs go.

See also:
» summer noon

summer noon

Is this thing on? Eh, what's a little dust between friends? Now, onto the Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival, circa 2014.

Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival, October 3 to 5, 2014: Oy vey, three-plus months without a show -- not even a free one! Would you believe I've been going to baseball games? Though raised on football (and futbol, come to think of it) to the point where I checked out books about '70s-era Raiders (Kenny "The Snake" Stabler! Lester Hayes! Biletnikoff!) from my school library in an effort to bond with my father, I've finally fallen in love with the most old-fashioned of old-fashioned games. Granted, attending two World Series parades and working down the street from the ballpark the cutest catcher in the game calls home doesn't hurt. Still, what's not to love about this view?

Oh, right, Hardly Strictly! The timing of the festival couldn't be better, as the music assuaged all my anxiety over the playoffs and/or gave me a reason to stretch out of the fetal position I've been stuck in since the play-in game. Per usual, I'll proceed in chronological order.

For the first time in a while, I took the Friday off for the festival, with the vague goal of seeing one artist, but little else in way of set plans. Instead, I hopped a friend's blankets and coattails throughout most of the day. First stop: Rooster Stage, which has been an impregnable fortress every time I've casually passed by. Now I know the key is to get there early, if you want to give yourself a fighting chance. Friday at the Rooster Stage has become known as the Conor Oberst show, but I only wanted to see Waxahatchee, beloved by one of my Canadian tipsters. I had no idea what to expect, but they seemed to have great lyrics, and the duo's spare, acoustic performance eased us gently into the long, hot weekend of music.

Next up, over to Star Stage for Thao & the Get Down Stay Down, not only a rocking Vietnamese lady, but a local resident to boot. I'd seen her once previously and thought she was great. I haven't been able to get to any of her shows since, but it's cool to see her bloom and join in on one of the city's marquee events. She and the band sounded awesome, and by my count, she played four different instruments through the set.

Our paths led over to the Arrow Stage, which unfortunately was the hottest, sunniest spot in the entire field on this 90-degree day. I hadn't planned to, but I stuck it out for Hooray for the Riff Raff, who were fun, upbeat, and engaging -- not to mention spot-on politically for the crowd. To top it off, there was still room to do-si-do on Friday.

However, I had played hooky from work specifically for Cibo Matto, who followed Hooray for the Riff Raff on Arrow. I've had a chance to see the band in its reincarnation a few times now, but the twist on this tour was the addition of Nels Cline. I'll go into the tunes a little more in my write-up of the band's gig at the Chapel, but let me say this about the festival performance: Damn, that was fun! Thirsty, sweaty, hot, and sunburned (to varying degrees), we danced our butts off to Cibo Matto. With the musicians themselves jumping around, not to mention Miho and Yuka breaking out their choreography, how could we stand still? Overall, their set was a condensed version of their solo show, but they closed with perennial favorite "Birthday Cake," moving the woman next to me (a complete stranger) to exclaim, "I love that song!"

I don't go to enough festivals to know how the demographics shape up from event to event, but the Cibo Matto crowd warmed my bleeding heart. Clearly, Cibo Matto falls under the "hardly strictly" banner, and all the more power to them for it. Looking around, you could see Japanese visitors, the typical hippie contingent, Nels Cline gear heads, Gen Xers, and today's millennials, all looking for an excuse to dance around and yell out lyrics about BBQ. They were so good, I had no choice but to leave after their set and save what little energy I had left. It was going to be a long weekend! Even better, the Giants took game one of the NLDS around the same time Cibo Matto took the stage.

Saturday also started early and warm, but the wandering was over, as far as I was concerned. Instead, we set up at the Star Stage, and I (for one) stayed there throughout. The day began with Whograss, specially gathered for the festival. A fellow early bird gave me the heads-up on the ensemble: Local notables coming together to cover Who tunes in the bluegrass style. The roll call included Chris von Sneidern, Prairie Prince, and Peter Sear, among others, but my favorite guest was Chuck Prophet, who dropped in for "Pinball Wizard." Truth be told, the bluegrass was less than discernible, but you gotta hand it to them for closing with "My Generation."

If you've been to Hardly Strictly, you know the sets at Star and Towers of Gold are staggered, so you can easily listen to the entire roster from one location. We heard Red Baraat, who were probably incredibly entertaining, if not my cuppa. Back at Star, Bad Luck Jonathan -- aka Jon Langford and friends circa 2014 -- rocked out in ridiculous costumes that looked less than comfortable in the heat. The fashion plate among them was introduced as "the pope of Golden Gate Park," whereas Jon and company had to make do with looking like groomsmen at best. At least Sally Timms wore an appropriately summery dress.

I wouldn't have minded catching Deltron's set on Towers of Gold, but the maneuvering and jostling had already begun, so the PA would have to do. I may have been the only person to be surprised by the closer "Clint Eastwood," but I'm glad they got it in.

Justin Townes Earle was the first performer of the day I truly wanted to see. I'll discuss more in my review of his Great American show, but I'll point out one major difference between the two performances. At Hardly Strictly, he poured out his love and appreciation for his wife of one year. She aptly beamed from the backstage. He too performed a shorter version of his full set, but retained several highlights, including a new closing cover of Fleetwood Mac's "Dreams." I'm pretty sure I've already professed my love of the song on this blog, so there's one plus for the tune. He also mentioned it reminded him of his mother, as did the Replacements song he sang in earlier shows.

Mavis Staples rounded out Saturday's roster. Alas, no guests dropped in (we hear they were communing with nature up north), but Mavis hardly needed a helping hand. Love poured out to her, and she sent it right back to us. We sang along like fools and did all her bidding, as requested. Like Cibo Matto, Mavis drew a diverse crowd, from Baby Boomers (such as the man behind me who found a sudden store of energy to pop up from the stool he had brought along to stand on his feet, loudly requesting "I'll Take You There" at every opportunity) to college students and everyone in between. Obviously, I've seen Mavis in concert before, but this time, without the younger friends, she may have been even more powerful and moving than I expected. Thus, our Saturday at the park drew to a close -- we had a long Sunday ahead of us.

Seven years ago now, we enjoyed the best spot imaginable at the Banjo Stage, thanks to a friend's diligence and single-mindedness. That didn't happen again, though we managed to drag ourselves to the park early enough to learn exactly when you need to show up to grab the prime real estate. We did fine, staked right behind the disabled section; we figured most of the people in front of us would at least be sitting down. Also, the fog finally returned in the morning, and the temperatures dropped to a reasonable level.

I've stayed away from Banjo for a while now, so I wasn't prepared to be steeped in so much tradition -- but that's all on me, not Banjo. Granted, the day's first notes were traditional enough: Emmylou's sound check, which was a small concert in itself. She sounded lovely, and her guitarist reeled off "Hey Joe" before they left the stage.

Of the six acts scheduled for Banjo, two were less than doctrinaire. The first was Malawi Mouse Boys, who broke out at WOMAD last year and are now touring the globe. They had little relation to the rest of the music we'd hear for the rest of the day, other than perhaps the DIY, down-home roots, but I enjoyed their energy and harmonies first -- er, second thing in the morning.

I don't have a ton to say about Hot Rize, the Earls of Leicester, or Ralph Stanley, though I'm sure you can find words of appreciation elsewhere. They were all a twangy run-up to Tweedy, the highlight of my entire festival.

If you've been following this blog, you know I haven't seen a ton of shows this year, including my favorites -- Tweedy among them. I haven't been able to travel to the shows, but lucky for me, their only West Coast date this year (so far) was scheduled for my backyard.

One thought occurred to me as I watched the genre stalwarts fill up the day: Tweedy would be a marked departure. As far as I could tell, the band didn't even use a banjo! The stage's host remarked as much too, drawing a parallel to the old Ed Sullivan show and how we were in for something different. Well, he certainly knew his audience. Though perhaps not so different from Wilco, Tweedy took a hard left turn from the tradition we'd been hearing all day with "Diamond Light" and "Please Don't Let Me Be So Misunderstood." Alas, the hardcore fest-goers who had Emmylou on their minds didn't look particularly moved until later in the set, when Jeff went solo acoustic and broke out old Wilco and Uncle Tupelo tracks. I didn't realize this was part of the Tweedy show, but I always dig Jeff on his own -- which is how he first came to Hardly Strictly years ago.

If I had my way, the setlist would've included "Acuff Rose," mainly because a festival of this sort probably wouldn't be possible without it, but the two closers were well called: the Doug Sahm cover and the crowd-pleasing "California Stars," which finally got the masses up and dancing, including our distinguished emcee and an equally venerable friend.

On the musical front, I loved seeing the band craft the tunes in front of our eyes. Spencer Tweedy has enjoyed his share of the spotlight for this record -- for good reason. His work on the album belies his 18 years on earth, and his live skills measured up to the already elevated expectations. Jim Elkington and Liam Cunningham were surprises to me -- I had no idea Jim would take so many of the guitar solos, and Liam added lovely touches with his all-around contributions (backing vocals!). I hope they return to the West Coast, but until then, I'm beyond glad they landed at Hardly Strictly for this exclusive date.

Having made it this far, we stuck around for the one and only Emmylou Harris. I don't remember her set being as straightforward; then again, many of the veterans have passed, and several of her usual collaborators had moved on to their next tour dates. Still, count your blessings when Emmylou is the glue that holds your festival together.

See also:
» feels lucky to have you here
» upwards to the vanguards