the boys are back in town

Airlines! Am I right, people? That may have been my main thought upon arriving home from the 2013 edition of Solid Sound, almost two full days after originally scheduled, and of course the reality of going back to work set in, but a quick flick through various photos and Facebook messages reminded me of the weekend's brilliance. In my usual fashion, I'll recap non-Wilco events first, then wrap up with the band's portion of the fest. Skim and/or savor as you see fit.

Solid Sound Festival, June 21-23, 2013: Depending on your point of view, festivals are either about opportunity or compromise. As an avowed non-fest person, I'll take the latter tack. Odds are you can't see all the acts, and because of my obsessive priorities, I'm more than willing to sacrifice a performer here or there if it means the overall goal (that is, primo placement at the front of the stage) can be secured. Friday's limited schedule of activities meant we didn't have to make many choices, but unfortunately, I had to skip White Denim. No big loss, as I'd already seen them open several shows for Wilco back in early 2012.



Over in Joe's Field, the Relatives warmed up the crowd for the headliners, imploring us to to drop it low, then all the way to the ground. I did the best I could, but it's not so easy in a full field. Also, my knees began to hurt, but they were a ton of fun and an awesome inauguration.

On Saturday, the decisions weren't so straightforward, but I committed to the Comedy Cabaret. I had caught segments of the comedy performances at past festivals, but this time, I (along with Brianne and Evonne) firmly planted myself at the Hunter Center, lining up before doors opened and settling into pretty good seats. I'm an unabashed John Hodgman fan, and I hope we'll continue to see him at Solid Sound for, well, ever.



The first voice we heard in the Hunter Center actually belonged to Reggie Watts, as he introduced something called the John and Jen Show (or thereabouts), followed by the onstage appearance of the aforementioned John and Jen (Kirkman). Jen looked fairly LA in her black top, superskinny jeans, and wedge heels, whereas John bore a striking resemblance to the Unabomber, for reasons he never revealed to us (though he shared him with the crowd at the second show). They worked up the kind of banter typical of a morning TV talk show before easing into what sounded like a more earnest (and hilarious) exchange, touching on childhood bullying, fears, and other eccentricities, none of which I'll try to recap here.

In the midst of their conversation, Jen brought up the concept of an "indigo child," and they attempted to track down a definition of the term via crowdsourcing -- that is, by asking the audience. This went around the room for a while before a guy stepped up with an air of authority. Jen and John brought him up to discuss the topic, and in the midst of their talk, the audience member revealed, apropos of nothing, (1) he was an atheist, and (2) he didn't like kids, though his child was now 7 years old. Eventually, someone offered John an iPhone displaying the Wikipedia definition of the term. I do no justice to the exchange with my flat description, but the awkwardness of their banter suited the comedians' style beautifully.

John somewhat stuck to this model for each of the comedians, first teaming up for easy conversation, then ceding the stage to them for their routine. With Al Madrigal, John heaped a load of appreciation on the veteran comic for teaching him the ways of the road. Unfortunately, I can't really remember what John and Reggie talked about, though I enjoyed John's confusion over how to describe what Reggie does.



I'm a big podcast listener, and the comedians show up on my playlist all the time, but I haven't checked out their sets for myself. If John Hodgman was indeed in charge, he chose well (unsurprisingly). Jen was a little neurotic, but I loved her energy and her catwalk skills. Al Madigral was a true pro, and even with the constant profane asides to the 11-year-old in attendance, you could see how he's perfected the art of storytelling over the years. Reggie was, well, Reggie, with the songs and improv about large-scale installations, driving while high in Montana, elk burgers, and bringing your olds to a comedy show, among other topics.

As for the music, I totally confess to missing the boat on just about every act scheduled for the day, including pop-up performances. Therefore, no Dream Syndicate reunion, no Beth Orton cameo with Sam Amidon, no Foxygen meltdown, and no consummate excellence from Yo La Tengo or Low. It's my own damn fault, but at least I made it back to Joe's Field in time for Neko Case. Her backing band included familiar faces, such as Kelly Hogan and Jon Rauhouse, but Eric Bachmann from Crooked Fingers was a new addition on guitar and keyboards. Also in attendance: Her dog Liza!

I fell in love with Neko's music around the time of Blacklisted, which remains my favorite of her records, but her sound has changed a lot since then. She remains hard to pigeonhole; with her voice, you'll always want to place her among the great, classic singers, but her song structures and subject matter are anything but customary. Her records are slow burners for me these days, but I always want to listen.

Neko and her band tried out at least a couple of new songs, but don't ask me to describe them, though I think Kelly Hogan played a little contraption with a player-piano-like roll stuck inside. Additionally, they managed to squeeze in a bunch of old favorites, including, er, "Favorite," as well as "This Tornado Loves You," "Hold On, Hold On," and a song from The Hunger Games (what?). Overall, I noticed Neko's a more proficient guitar player than before, and of course, that voice is a treasure. For their final song, they went with the Shangri-Las' "Train from Kansas City," a lovely -- ahem -- vehicle for the lady singers. Too bad the the actual train passing right next to Joe's Field maybe 20 minutes before couldn't have been better coordinated with Neko's schedule.

Which leave us with with headliners: Wilco. You may have heard of them? This already lengthy account is about to go on for a bit longer, so settle in.



From the outset, Friday was touted as the all-request show, and our suggestions were encouraged. I guess all Wilco shows ostensibly take requests via the website, but I honestly don't know where people got the idea it would be anything other than a covers set. If you went to the website to place a vote, you saw open text fields that allowed you to type in your own ideas, unlike the drop-down menu for every other show. Then again, as the person who put together the Wilco/Tweedy covers compilation (Someone Else's Songs, if that rings a bell) a while ago, I'd hardly object to a whole set devoted to off-catalog tunes. Only a few songs into the show itself did it hit me that we might be in for more Wilco songs than I expected.

As it happened, my original instincts -- and the overall simpler explanation -- prevailed. The band opened with the deliciously appropriate "The Boys Are Back in Town," and the audience's backing vocals fell right in line (when we weren't busy cheering like fools).

The second song struck me like Cupid's arrow: "Cut Your Hair," by Pavement. You could've knocked over Judy and me with a feather right then, and I probably lost the majority of my voice on this song, thanks to shouting out the lyrics ("Korea! Korea!") and my overall appreciation. I remember casually asking Jeff for a Pavement song at one of our early basement shows, but he couldn't quite deliver. Still, my life had been incomplete without hearing Wilco do Pavement. Thank you, genius requester, whoever you are.

I could've gone home a happy girl at this point, but so many more delights awaited on the setlist. Jeff wryly thanked the person who requested "New Madrid," which turned out to be the only Wilco-related song this evening. A handful of other songs from the set have shown up at Wilco or solo Tweedy shows over the years ("In the Street," "Simple Twist of Fate," "Ripple," "James Alley Blues," "Don't Fear the Reaper," "Thank You Friends," "The Weight"), but they're still relatively rare on the band's setlist. I'm a huge fan of "James Alley Blues" and "Thank You Friends," and I always welcome their airing, and Jeff suggested we make a tradition of "The Weight" at Solid Sound. I doubt anyone would object to that motion.

Some tunes emerged completely out of the blue ("Dead Flowers," "Waterloo Sunset," "Waterloo," "Who Loves the Sun," "And Your Bird Can Sing," "Psychotic Reaction," "Marquee Moon," "Cinnamon Girl," "Surrender") and may have been the biggest gob-smackers. I fully support the band's decision to do "And Your Bird Can Sing" twice, even if the high notes sapped even more of my voice, and I probably don't need to rhapsodize about "Waterloo Sunset" more than I already have. Also, perhaps those two songs in particular will bring Wilco (Jeff) a little closer to making my Largo dreams come true. Don't worry, I'm not holding my breath for it. [Update: I can finally breathe!]

Just about every song was a highlight for me, but "Marquee Moon" hit me between the eyes, not least because I've been requesting it -- to no avail -- for years at Largo. Let's cut to the chase: Nels was transcendent on the track, and the band didn't back off from the song's sprawling glory. I'm not afraid to admit I didn't recognize "Dead Flowers," so by the same token, I hope "Marquee Moon" cast some light on, say, Television's influence on "Impossible Germany."

Finally, the Friday set had a lovely bonus of special guests. John Hodgman served as emcee, and it quickly became apparent that he and the band were in on a joke. In one of his early misdirections, he said something about "the band," which we mistook to mean The Band. I guess he took the cue from there because he later tempted us with "the human league ... of musicians" and "Shonen Knife ... would love this song." John did get in a request of his own for "Kingpin," in case you were wondering what lurks in the mind of the Daily Show's evil genius. My takeaway: He's a Being There guy! Score!

Yo La Tengo dropped in for "Tom Courtenay," which meant the setlist included two songs namechecking Julie Christie -- has that been done before?? Lucius played Agnetha and Frida on "Waterloo," but the biggest get had to be "Color Me Impressed," which brought out TOMMY FUCKING STINSON. The Replacements nerds among our gang loved it, and I don't blame them. We were all caught up in the thrill, especially watching Tommy tell Jeff "fuck you," while sidling up to Nels for ax man action. (Don't worry, Tommy and Jeff had huge smiles and hugs for each other by the end of the song.) For those keeping score at home, the expense and hassle of traveling to Solid Sound had been paid about a thousand times over at this point.



I haven't even covered my absolute favorite part of the show! I had a small mental list of covers that would instantly render me comatose if the band chose to do them, but I had submitted my own idea when the Wilcoworld email went out. At the time, I wanted to listen to only song, to the point where I sought out the hour-long remixes on YouTube to serenade me through the workday. You guessed it -- I (and millions of others) was hooked on Daft Punk's "Get Lucky," the best summer hit I've heard in years. I voted my conscience and, once we arrived in North Adams, reported that request to anyone who'd listen (whether or not they asked).

Cut to the Stump the Band portion of Friday night, minus the first two requesters. The third time was the charm, as the *cough* middle-aged, WFMU-shirt-wearing music nerd (aka Not Tom Scharpling) asked the band to play the very same song I had hoped for. Get this -- the band knew it!

Who can blame them? The tune has real musical chops, including Nile Rodgers' sublime presence on bass. I think Glenn might've started off the song before the others eased in. Jeff isn't exactly Pharrell, but we chipped in with the singalong as soon as we got our whoops and hollers out of our system. Perhaps best of all, Mike got his vocoder moment. To no one's surprise, it has emerged as the major talking point of the whole festival. I doff my hat to the WFMU dude for sharing my excellent taste on at least one song and two bands.



Saturday's set was closer to what we expect from Wilco, but even there, they pulled out some surprises, including the high-energy opener of "I Got You," "Dawned on Me," and "Box Full of Letters." Paul sometimes talks about the band's pacing, and I noticed it here, especially around the lurching middle segment. But I liked the mix of songs, as well as the sheer number of tracks. Julian Lage did beautifully on "Forget the Flowers" and "California Stars," and for the latter, the band was also joined by Lucius and Georgia from Yo La Tengo. It's always good news when the audience sings along, and I can report they chimed in on "You Are My Face" and "Summerteeth," among others. At this point, I consider only a handful of songs to be true Wilco live rarities, but the band actually hit one of them in the encore: "Just a Kid," albeit without the Blisters.

Sunday turned out to be a lazy day that also happened to be hot and humid. Between air conditioning breaks, we saw the Radiolab/On Fillmore performance, which was a lot of fun, though I still feel for the actor surely melting away in the Shrewdinger outfit. Out on Joe's Field, we briefly listened in on Os Mutantes and hung out for Martin Medeski & Wood long enough to catch Nels and Jeff's guest spots. It was the kind of leisurely repast we needed after our epic Saturday.

Over the course of the three-odd days, we also enjoyed the exhibits on display at Mass MOCA, including Xu Bing's Phoenix, the 1-minute movie film festival, and an exhibit on fan art whose title escapes me. Among the Wilco-derived installations, the Loft brought us up close with artifacts we've seen from afar, and a week away from the festivities, I'm able to laugh at the guys who gamely attempted to mete out some semblance of melody from Glenn Kotche's Earth Drums.

I'm skimming over huge swaths of memories from the festival, but I'd kick myself if I didn't mention one more aspect: the amazing camaraderie of old and new friends. I've run out of ways to describe the connection and bonhomie we all generate, except to know that I miss them as soon as the party ends, and I can't wait to see them again.

See also:
» Solid Sound 2011: you can tell that i'm not lying
» Solid Sound 2010: trees held us in on all four sides
» i am in paradise
» my mother's sister's husband's brother

that echo chorus lied to me

I've clocked an atrocious concert attendance record this year, and it doesn't look to improve a whole lot. But Julie's generous offer (again) and expert finagling helped get me to Neko Case's show at Stern Grove.

Neko Case, Stern Grove, July 3, 2011: Talk about a rarity--for the first time in a long time, you could see the Fourth of July fireworks in San Francisco. But before that waste of gunpowder and sky (lyrics courtesy of Aimee Mann), a related and equally isolated incident transpired: Stern Grove was luxuriously warm and sunny for Neko Case's show. What a country!

When we last left off, Neko Case played the Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival, but in the interim, she's shown up with the New Pornographers as well. You'd be hard-pressed to claim that she doesn't pop in enough, but it's still nice to chalk up another gig, especially under gorgeous, open skies.

One observation about Neko: She's not necessarily the most prolific artist. This is no complaint; I prefer artists to work at their own pace and put out their work when they're ready, not when they're expected. Thus, her concerts don't change a whole lot between albums, and we saw a similar performance to her Hardly Strictly set, minus the Shangri-Las' cover. Once more, she was backed by her faithful band, including Jon Rauhouse and Kelly Hogan, concentrating on tracks from the last two albums. She snuck in a couple of old standards from her back catalog as well, including "Favorite" and "Knock Loud." The latter came with an emphatic warning; they didn't do the song a whole lot. With this caveat in mind, the audience welcomed the song more as a treat than a dare--I completely agree!

Speaking of treats, they tried out two new songs on the crowd, but I can't characterize either title. However, I look forward to their official release, whenever that may be.

In between, Neko and Kelly shared their usual carefree banter, and I have to admit, in this open air setting, some of their words were lost to the winds and street sounds. In fact, I'm afraid the acoustics could've been a little better, but the show was, after all, free. Nonetheless, it was impossible to miss Neko and Kelly's repeated shout-outs to muttville.org in support of their long-standing love of dogs. I'm not sure if it's a San Francisco thing, but that's hardly the first time I've heard them laud some of the city's more pup-friendly attitudes.

The Dodos opened, and as was the case on the last tour with the New Pornographers, Neko joined them for a track, though I don't know the name. Their sound also suffered in these unusual environs, but the drums and guitar came across well. If I seem less than hyped about them, don't mind me--they have great melodies and I like the singer's voice, but I've contracted a huge case to musical ennui and can't seem to latch onto newer talent right now. If anything, Neko's seal of approval should be a strong recommendation to interested listeners.

See also:
» amateur
» form a line to the throne

amateur

The prospect of attending a huge, free musical festival featuring some of my favorite artists and several more appealing performers mere blocks from my apartment is both exhilarating and maddening. Even as my eyes grew wide at the sight of all those great names populating the bill, I knew that the explosion in talent would correspond to an uptick in audience. The question, then, becomes whether it's all worth the bother; for now at least, the answer is yes.

Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival, October 3-4, 2009
For my first couple of stints at the festival, I went with a plan, and it served me well, though I have a friend's fearless move to thank for my best positioning ever at the Banjo Stage. I'm never getting that close for the closing festivities ever again! With that concession fully banked, I flew under the radar last year, slipping in and out of the festival and catching the handful of acts that mattered to me. I had intended to do the same this year, but my twitchy nature won out, forcing a compromise. In a nutshell, Saturday, we wandered. Sunday, we camped.

Initially, I thought maybe the early acts of the day would be my favorites by default, just because the crowds had not yet convened. We wandered to the Star Stage in time to catch Jon Langford, Sally Timms, and the Sadies, filling in for Roger Knox, whose entry visa was denied, on Saturday, but Okkervil River delivered the true debut. Okkervil River largely reprised the set they played when opening for Wilco back in June, and much as they did then, they won over a good chunk of the audience with their impassioned, lively display. From the middle of the field, it was great to see the hands in the air and to hear Will Sheff work it the crowd as hard as he did earlier this summer.

In a similar vein, Elvis Perkins in Dearland threw the doors wide open on Sunday morning with a fun, brisk set. I've missed Elvis (who bore a striking resemblance to Abbey Road-era George Harrison) and crew more often than I've seen them, and that includes their last appearance in San Francisco. The mix-up isn't really worth explaining, except to say it ranks high among my ditz moments.



The band has written and recorded its fair share of moody, introspective numbers, but they opted for a mostly upbeat set for the festival, with their drummer strapping on the bass drum and moving to the front of the stage for several titles. For me, the highlight of their revue was a three-song stint featuring tunes from their forthcoming EP, out October 20.

The first selection was a spiritual called "Weeping Mary," but it was the transition to the second--whose title wasn't offered--that caught me by surprise. It was a full-on Eddie Cochran-style rave-up, and they followed up with a bluesy, soulful piece. That's going to be a great EP, I hazard. They closed with "Doomsday," thus killing my hope of hearing "Ash Wednesday," but their choice was definitely more appropriate for the hour and the setting. Note to self: Don't miss them again.

I've navigated some extreme measures to see my favorite performers, whether at a club, a festival, or elsewhere; by that barometer, I didn't do anything out of character to see my headliners at Hardly Strictly Bluegrass. In fact, you could say I dialed it back, for a change. But after Saturday's middling effort, I figured I'd need to invest a little more energy if I wanted to catch either Neko Case or Aimee Mann the way I wanted to see them. Long story short: Everything worked out.

As much as I appreciate the festival's expansion into different genres, I still wonder how certain groups will go over with the masses, and prior to Aimee's set, I was apprehensive over the outcome. Aimee is nowhere close to bluegrass in any regard, and though she's hit the festival circuit more in the last few years, I can't wrap my head around the idea of her playing to anything other than mannered, courteous indoor audiences--even though I've seen Aimee take on similar circumstances before.

I repeat: Everything worked out (despite the woman behind me who asked me to sit down because I wasn't in the standing section--of a field?! for a free show!?). A doting group gathered at the front of the stage for Aimee's set, and as always, the songs from Magnolia drew the biggest response. Aimee even got to throw out the fun fact of her losing an Oscar to Phil Collins' "monkey love song." In the witty repartee department, she also shared that her forehead felt like a big solar panel as they played directly into the the sun.

My guess is that much of the audience hadn't seen Aimee before, but zealots regulars saw a couple of fun changes. I'm not sure if I've heard "Nightmare Girl" before, but I know that was a rare outing. Also, Aimee and her band revealed new talents when they each took up woodwinds for the beginning of "This Is How It Goes." The only oddity may have been the hoarding of Smilers tracks ("Freeway" and "31 Today") until the very end, but overall, the audience took in a good overview of Aimee's catalog of songs.



I had no doubt that Neko Case, however, would have any problems with the crowd. For starters, she was hardly a stranger, having played a supporting role at the festival a couple of years ago. And though Neko's sound is less definable these days, it's closer to the festival's namesake genre than most of the acts I saw on Sunday.

Neko's band, including Jon Rauhouse, remained intact, and Kelly Hogan stood by her side. (Also of note: The musicians gathered on the side of the stage to watch them, including Billy Bragg, Will Sheff, and Scott McCaughey.) Neko and Kelly, as always, are so entertaining that I find it hard to believe anyone can resist their charms. The women repeatedly lauded the organizers for allowing dogs into the festival, and other topics of conversation included Neko's ill-fitting jeans and her self-proclaimed lack of an ass. Neko's pipes were as staggering as ever, but at other moments, she chose to speak in--for lack of a better word--a high-pitched squawk. I hesitate to guess at what inspired that tone, but believe it or not, I'd heard a lot of weirder things at the festival.

Neko and company bounded all over her catalog, from the country-ish early works to the rich, ornate style she prefers these days. In between, she and Kelly offered generous shout-outs to the Sadies and worked up two of the song they'd co-written. In a strange twist, Marianne Faithfull had sang "Hold On Hold On" at the stage immediately to the back of the setup just prior to Neko's set, but that didn't stop Neko from running with it herself. They closed with a cover of the Shangri-Las' "The Train from Kansas City," such a perfect selection that you wonder how we'd never heard it before.

Those are the sets I feel most comfortable blogging, but I caught or attempted to catch several more artists over the course of the weekend, with varying degrees of success, comfort, and interest--not to mention the acts I didn't bother approaching, for whatever reason (the crowds, the cold, the lack of willpower). However, I managed to squeeze in among the throngs to watch most of Gillian Welch's set at the overattended squall known as the Banjo Stage.

The conditions would probably qualify as hellish were it not for Gillian and David, but they rewarded the hordes with guest appearances by Emmylou Harris and Old Crow Medicine Show. Emmylou and "Go to Sleep Little Baby" were not a surprise, but I gasped when all the above parties assembled for "The Weight." I'm not going to hear anything approaching those harmonies for a long time to come.

News reports peg attendance at this year's festival at 750,000--almost the population of San Francisco itself--and I think I smooshed into every single one of them at one point or another during the weekend. Threatening equal parts intrigue and insanity, Hardly Strictly Bluegrass tempts me as few other festivals do. I'll have to wait and see what 2010 brings, but I'll keep October open.

See also:
» now I try to be amused
» feels lucky to have you here
» play one more for my radio sweetheart
» searching for light in the darkness of insanity

who led you to this hiding place

A mere 48 hours before Neko Case's show at the Warfield--er, I was waiting for a delayed connection in Salt Lake City. But a bit of change before that, I was about as far away from June gloom as you can imagine. One of the better substitutions for those sunny skies and warm rays? Neko Case's amazing pipes, of course.

Neko Case, the Warfield, June 10, 2009: Officially, it's been three long years since Neko's last solo appearance in San Francisco, but the truth is the Bay Area has been luckier than most regions, as she's clocked shows here at the Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival and with the New Pornographers. Still, it would be ridiculous to suggest that any of these are equal to seeing Neko in the spotlight.



That absence, though, has clearly proved fruitful. Few of the fans I know could've predicted Neko would be selling out theaters on this go-round, but these larger stages were hardly going to waste. Occupying a healthy chunk of real estate, in addition to the numerous guitars and instruments required by her band, was a video screen seemingly built in a forest, flanked on each side by painted trees and on top by a cordial crowned owl. Each song got its own gorgeous video treatment that was a surprise even to the musicians. (This is usually where I'd post a picture, but photography was forbidden.)

Neko brought back the old touring crew, including Jon Rauhouse and Kelly Hogan, along with one new face: Nora O'Connor, also from Chicago. Nora moved in and out for certain songs, but Kelly's role was much more pronounced, joking and quipping. Singing too--such glorious singing.

You'll never hear me complaining that I liked an artist when they specialized in a certain sound (i.e., before they sucked), and I'm not going to start now--but I have preferences. Thus, the selections from Blacklisted sent me swooning, even if Neko uncharacteristically forgot the words to "Deep Red Bells" and messed up the intro to "Lady Pilot."

Neko's newer songs, though, certainly showcase her skills as a songwriter in a way that her earlier performances had not. It was easy to assume she was just a voice--albeit an amazing one--so it's pretty sweet to see her picking up a guitar and leading the band. I don't suppose we'll see her kicking out the drums again, but I guess that was another life.

But the bottom line is that we came to hear Neko belt it out, and we weren't disappointed in that regard. The best musical moments of the night were probably any instance of Neko, Kelly, and Nora locked in three-part harmony, such as on "People Got a Lot of Nerve" or "That Teenage Feeling." But that list of highlights would also have to include the silly asides shared between Neko and Kelly, whether about cougars, drummers, or songs written about Kelly's dog. I wouldn't mind dropping in on their coffee klatch.

The opener was Imaad Wasif, previously seen in Folk Implosion and Alaska. Tonight, his band comprised two other people, one of whom I recognized: good old Bobb Bruno on bass. I didn't catch the drummer's name, but I can say that this band, Two Part Beast, rocked the fuck out. I'm not sure how their sound went over with the rest of the audience, but their jolt of a set was a great start for the evening.

See also:
» my own blood is much too dangerous
» feels lucky to have you here
» use it tonight

feels lucky to have you here

Not so long ago, if you wanted to watch me squirm, all you had to do was ask me one simple question: If Wilco/Jeff Tweedy and Jon Brion were playing the same night--and all other factors being equal--which would I go see? I still think it's an apples-and-oranges comparison, but I actually have an answer now.

Jeff Tweedy, Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival, October 5, 2007: Festivals are great in concept, allowing you to sample a smorgasbord of artists in one fell swoop. I used to travel to England to indulge in this summer tradition, but as my tastes have grown more, errrr, specific over the years, the mix-and-match nature of most festivals has become less attractive to me. Of course, there's always an exception, and if a free festival practically in my backyard with Jeff Tweedy as the headliner can't get me out the door, I don't know what can.

I have to hand it to the Hardly Strictly Bluegrass folks; they don't phone it in. This year, the stage had already been built and the fields prepared by the time we got to the park at a fairly early hour of the morning. All we had to do was walk right down to the sweet spot and spread out the blankets to mark our space, which gave us plenty of room to welcome Dr. Judy and her family when they arrived. Sharing the expanse were Trish, Sinead, Brianne, Andrew, and me--a far cry from last year, when I navigated Elvis mostly by myself.



Jeff was, in fact, the first performer we saw that day, when he emerged for a short soundcheck. Before he returned for his headlining slot, however, we took in the day's other artists. Augie March showed that they were capable of covering a good selection of musical styles, though it seemed like they left almost as soon as they began. Buddy Miller was an early crowd favorite, and he performed a cover of "Rock, Salt, and Nails," which I had no idea was in his repertoire until Brianne mentioned it earlier that day. T Bone Burnett and friends had several technical problems, but Neko Case sounded as amazing as ever. She did only three songs on her own before John Mellencamp joined them, at which point she was relegated to backup duties. Still, it was a kick to hear her singing harmony on "Pink Houses"--a song I never thought I'd hear live and in person, even when it was an MTV staple.



T Bone's set went a bit long, which made us wonder how Jeff would fare. Our concerns, as it turned out, were unfounded, as he was called back for an encore and went a good half hour past the supposed 7 p.m. curfew, delivering a truly satisfying selection of tunes. Early on, he attempted to downplay expectations by informing the crowd that there wouldn't be much bluegrass in his set. No worries there, especially when he's playing up some of the folksier angles, such as songs by Woodie Guthrie and Uncle Tupelo, as well as the twangier end of Wilco's spectrum.

I admit that I have a bias toward the older songs, such as "New Madrid," which I will never refuse an opportunity to hear. But aside from sentimental favorites, the two titles that certifiably lit up the evening were "Someone Else's Song," sung in that high register I love (see "Gun"), and "Summerteeth," to which we contributed some excellent backing vocals, if I do say so myself. But don't take my word for it--the artist chimed in with his agreement, and I may have spied some nearby faces in the audience smiling back at us when they realized what we were doing. No shushing here!



It was kind of weird seeing Jeff--the only solo performer of the day--all by himself on such a big stage. Fortunately, the Blue Angels had ceased their exercises long before his set started, so at least there was no overhead buzzing to distract us. Overall, he handled the daunting stretch of bodies well, joking with the audience and frequently looking toward his family, who were watching from the side of the stage. I just pray that he didn't resurrect "cock" with his brief foray back into that word's terminology. On the other hand, I can confidently say that "loves me some" and "true dat" will continue to live on for some time, despite his best efforts.

As for the rest of the festival, Brianne and I missed Saturday (check back later to find out why), but we returned Sunday, when Andrew had secured our amazing spot, thanks to his dogged determination, his convenient jetlag, and his sheer cult of personality, judging by all the new friends he had made while we were gone. Sunday was, for me, my first ever taste of bluegrass at this festival, and though it'll never be my music of choice, I can't tell you how far I've come aesthetically to be able to listen without prejudice.

Earl Scruggs and his six-piece band showed off the fullness of these supposedly simple tunes, while Doc Watson was charm and talent personified, playing alongside David Holt, as well as his grandson Richard Watson. Finally, there was the transcendent Emmylou Harris; I don't know if it was the setting, the company, or the songs themselves, but I found myself getting a little choked up when those multipart harmonies kicked in. When David Rawlings showed up to watch her set from the photographer's pit (and almost got kicked out by a well-meaning but uninformed security person because he wasn't wearing his badge!), an entirely different emotion, however, took over. Yowza!

See you next year!

See also:
» now I try to be amused

my own blood is much too dangerous

Oddly, I'm not feeling any PCD at the moment. It probably helped that just as I left Chicago, I was on my way to see a show featuring a bunch of performers with strong ties to that very town.

Neko Case, Bimbo's 365 Club, June 27, 2006: Neko herself claimed that she had never played three--let alone four--nights in a single city, but leave it to San Francisco to take her in, dust her off, and tell her to put her feet up. Some people in front of me were planning to go all nights, but I knew that Neko didn't change her setlist much, so I didn't feel the need to hit more than one show. My only miscalculation was that they added a fourth night (with Eric Bachmann from Crooked Fingers opening, no less) long after the initial run had been announced. Thus, I couldn't adhere to my rule about going to the final night of any multinight stand.

Neko's definitely not an artist I would've investigated if it weren't for my Wilco conversion, but boy, am I glad fate ran its course. It's all about that voice. Never mind the Grand Ole Opry and its silly ban on her--not even the Grand Canyon could hold Neko's pipes.

For this tour, Neko highlighted her most recent album, Fox Confessor Brings the Flood, devoting about half the setlist to the newer songs. In between, she interspersed older titles, such as the erstwhile opener "Favorite," which moved to the number two spot for the night. We also heard chestnuts such as "Set Out Running," "Deep Red Bells," and "In California." (Note to non-Californians: Everything in that last song is true.)

I've seen Neko a number of times now, both solo and with the New Pornographers, as well as accompanied by various backing bands. From what I can tell, she thrives in an environment when she's surrounded by strong personalities to inspire her hilarious banter and to give back as good as they get. One of her best foils is, of course, Carolyn Mark, but in her stead, Kelly Hogan fit in beautifully. (The other is Carl Newman, but that's a different story.) I think my favorite statement from Kelly was how she felt like a "pallbearer at a hooker's funeral," referring to the bustier she wore under the sound man's (?) blazer, in combination with her red fuck-me high heels. On the other side of the stage, Jon Rauhouse--master of all manner of stringed instruments but especially the pedal steel--threw out jokes at Neko. She in turn put him on the spot more than once, but it was all in good fun. Frequently during the show, Neko would look to him, confirming my suspicions that he's one of her most invaluable collaborators.

More important, both Kelly and Jon provided gorgeous backing for Neko's songs. Kelly's voice is ridiculously pretty, and Jon practically stole the show with his expressive, soulful riffs. By the time they ended with "John Saw That Number," you could feel the connection throughout the room--not only between the band members but with the audience as well.

The opener was the local singer/songwriter Sonny Smith, whose appearance belied his show. He started off modestly on solo acoustic guitar, then was joined on the second song by two guitarists--one of whom was Leroy Bach, formerly of Wilco. As Sonny's set progressed, more people joined him. Soon enough, he had a full band, and by the end of the set, when both Kelly Hogan and Neko Case also took the mic, we were in for a downright hootenanny. Sonny's songs were quite good, populated by vivid characters, all contained within rousing hooks and choruses. If you think folk music is boring or old-fashioned, this show could change your mind.

See also:
» listening for too long to one song
» you may be sweet talking, daddy