The Story of George

Peripheral characters fill our lives. Sometimes they teach us things that our closest friends can’t reach and often their distance makes for more honesty, because who lies to a complete stranger?

I told the story of Nick before, the drunkard with a weak stomach and a shitty sense of direction. That moment was priceless.

Coachella brought a whole cavalcade of characters, including a wheelin’ and dealin’, mohwak rockin’ son-of-a-gun named George. He arrived with Cuzinmank’s extended group and it was his very first Coachella. People’s first Coachella’s have the opportunity to bring new and crazy experiences to the uninitiated and I’m jealous whenever I see the first timers all wide-eyed and bushy-tailed.

I met George on Thursday night and after a handshake here and a “How ya doin’” there, George was off to jump into an art car shaped into a cassette tape, roaming the campsite looking for party people to party it up. An hour or so later he came back, raving about how cool it was, just to run back to it like a kid hearing the Ice Cream Truck rounding the corner. I didn’t see him again until the next morning. He was wearing a tie-die t-shirt with cut off sleeves, 80′s style.

The next morning, he was wearing a poncho. I don’t know. I don’t get it either.

HIs main joy seemed to be partying it up at the Sahara Tent and then utilizing the bartering system set up throughout camp, trading this and that for that and this. Illegal substances would be upgraded, and also a couple of blown glass rocks would come into his possession and there was much rejoicing.

Then the entire weekend passed…you know, that whole amazing musical experience thing. Three days come and go and I don’t see George anymore. Not back at camp, not during any band, not even passing by the port-o-johns.

Cut to Sunday night, when Alisha and I are saying goodbye to our band of merry men and women, wishing all safe travels and sweet dreams. We hit up said portable outhouses one last time en route to our distant tent. In the distance, however, was a band of people not ready to call Coachella quits just yet. These people exist every year, trying to squeeze every last hoot and holler out of the desert, but they generally burn out quickly and shut up soon enough to let me go to sleep.

Our paths eventually crossed and the group of 30 or 40 stopped right in front of us, stretched a blanket out in a gigantic circle, started chanting and ran under it to great applause and uproar. I had no idea what was going on, but started clapping in its awe and excellence.

When I turn around, who is standing there but Sir George, wearing what looked to be a gigantic squirrel pelt from the pecs up, still rockin’ the mohawk. I shake his hand while uttering “Where the hell have you been this weekend?”

Before I can get an answer, he runs off, smacks somebody in the back of the head and yells “SPACE MONKEYS!”

What in the fuck….

And that is the story of George!

More Coachella Fallout…

So Saturday and Sunday is up over at Examiner. Over 1,000 words per review…boy are my arms tired.

Please head to Cuzinmank and Sir Erik’s flicker for much better photos than I can take, which makes sense when they are smuggling in some bad ass SLR cameras.

Also, I got an e-mail from a neighbor I slipped a business card to, inviting me to cover their band this Saturday in Costa Mesa. Hopefully they don’t suck!

Here are some random Coach videos I’ve uploaded….

I’m Alive!

Barely…

What a weekend it was, and now that Coachella has come and gone, reflection is in order.

The first review is up for Friday, and I’m currently tooling around with Saturday and Sundays write-ups.

I didn’t get to interview 2 of the three acts I was scheduled for, and the one I did interview didn’t get recorded due to super loud music and my dumb ass.

Either way, I got plenty of good pics and videos, the best of which have been uploaded onto youtube already.

More to come, soon, including good jesse effect stories…

Over and Out

Yesterday I got to interview Seth Avett of the Avett Brothers.

To date, this is the coolest interview I’ve ever done and the most fulfilling part of my low-paying journey as a journalist. He was honest, human, and didn’t make me feel like I was talking to someone who I’ve been admiring for years.

http://www.examiner.com/x-25680-Long-Beach-Local-Music-Examiner~y2010m4d13-Coachella-2010-Preview-Interview-with-Seth-Avett-from-The-Avett-Brothers

The interview lasted about 10 minutes, although it took me about 30 to transcribe it all. I hoped to talk to the whole band, as I wrote questions for their bassist, Bob, mostly because I felt like nobody ever asks him anything.

I also just found out that I will indeed be interviewing Portugal, The Man. It will be directly after their set on Saturday, and backstage as well. This is awesome, as this is another band I’ve been listening to since High School and have some cool questions lined up for these Alaskan badasses.

With those little tidbits, I will bid this blog adieu. I will return on Monday, but will have a gigantic report to write covering my entire weekend. With 38 bands to see, 2 bands to interview (hopefully more!), and the experiences that Coachella brings, it’ll probably take until the end of next week before I start writing here again. I plan on going back to my original format, reviewing albums and live shows, taken mostly off the list of albums I’ve been selling.

Thanks for the support everyone and have a good week!

THE NEW PHONE BOOKS ARE HERE! THE NEW PHONE BOOKS ARE HERE!

Coachella finally got around to releasing the set times…

http://www.coachella.com/event/set-times

Every year its a hassle to see EVERYONE you want to see, and with this year being probably the most jam packed inr ecent memory, the potential for disaster is at its highest.

But let’s see how they did….

The Motherlode

I sold the priciest item in my collection last week. Clocking in at $150, the import Judas Priest Box Set pictured below is a wacky boxset, to say the least. When i bought it, it had this awesome list of albums in the box.
When I opened it, it had two albums in it and a bunch of Styrofoam.

I call shenanigans! But instead of getting angry (it only cost me 20 bucks), I get completionistic. I bought the remaining albums and received some as Christmas/birthday gifts until I had the entire set save for one. Each album had one letter from the words “JUDAS PRIEST” on the bottom of the spine, so when your collection was complete the collection would spell out the band name.

I like Judas Priest. I really do. I think they have been largely forgotten by this era of metalheads and music fans, whether its because the music doesn’t translate well or Rob Halford is gay…I dunno.

Either way, I’m stoked to be rid of it, even though it cost me $10 to ship it out of here. I started to wrap it in christmas wrappings before my girlfirned laughed at me, took it away, and properly wrapped it in that awesome brown shipping paper. Much better.

Thanks, babe

Turn your attention

…to these links.

First off, feast your eyes on The Examiner’s Festival hub page, including yours truly sitting at the top of the featured writers. This will be the one stop shop for all things Coachella as the last week comes to a close. I have a dozen articles up already, highlighting a ton of different bands.

Luckily, I got to do my first Coachella-related interview with DJ Steve Porter. He was very cool and gave some excellent answers. I posted a video of his few days ago.

Also, for the internet impaired, those are all links to the things I’m talking about, so feel free to give them a click or two

How Rap Superstar Nas Made Me Late For Work

Working for a college newspaper allowed me certain perks and opportunities that I alone could not have received. I got into a lot of performances for free, some were good but most were not. I was allowed to ask random people random questions and played around with words and ideas that ultimately led to satisfaction for work I had done. When an artist would come to Chico, I often had the opportunity to interview them but only if they were willing and available.

Nas was both, but in a very limited way. Almost too limited…

Ke$hit

What the fuck, America?

I’m a huge proponent of the “To each their own” philosophy, but something must be said for worth. Just because something is popular does not mean it is worth anything. Worth is not inherent, nor does it represent value, rather it judges its existence with an unbiased eye.

What, I ask with bated breath, is the worth of a woman who represents partying, irresponsibility, and immaturity?

I need to stop myself here. As a metalhead, I often see the artists I hold near and dear accused of the same thing. Bands are confronted by moms and churches that believe that there is no worth to be found within a single note. They believe they corrupt the youth that follows their music and their lives become vapid because of it.

But at least those bands play instruments. They have a skill. You can say Nike makes some ugly shoes, but at least they produced something. It took someone some skill, somewhere.

And I understand the argument that music is a boys club, and dudes have been singing about all the same things for years. But I argue that the good majority of those bands blow, like the Motley Crue and Poison era of rock in the 80′s was all about excess and fun. It also wasn’t about talent and artistry.

This woman sings…poorly…and is auto-tuned to pitch perfection. Not a dancer, not an entertainer, merely a storyteller and a bad one, to boot. She was interviewed in a magazine I subscribe to, and her answers to basic questions insulted my intelligence.

I feel like the female youth of this nation needs another Rosie the Riveter, not Paula the Poledancer (although Paula would make 10x as much as Rosie these days). Much like when I posed my concerns with pop music, I have to do the same with female singers and songwriters: Where the hell are you?

For every Ani Difranco and Missy Higgins there are 20 Ke$has and 100 more rip-offs. What does it take for an original and genuine female voice to be heard in this industry of tits and noise? What makes Americans so perturbed by authenticity? Why do we gravitate toward nobodys instead of somebodys?

My brain hurts…

A Night of Firsts

Being a deadbeat music journalist is sort of wacky. I have the freedom to go where I want and talk about the thing I love most. But, I almost get paid in peanuts (if at all) and sometimes waste my time with artists or people that can’t deliver the goods.

My girlfriend is a makeup artist and is running a fashion show tonight. I’m excited to be a part of it, collect my press pass when I walk in, and snap pictures and interview folks attending this shindig. Apparantly, there will be a couple musical performances.

I get to see the legend, the icon, the former B2K singer and dancer, Omarion.

Don’t worry, I’ll wait for you to google his name in an attempt to figure out who the hell this guy is.

Full name: Omari Ishmael Grandberry

Grandberry. Seriously. And he’s not a legend.

He’s a host on America’s Best Dance Crew, part of the family of 100+ tv shows that start with “America’s.” We have a fascination with giving people awards and titles. I love it.

But I’m way more excited to be my own man. My press pass says “Cry Havoc” and since I’m part of the group that created that magazine, I’m technically representing myself. Not a company or newspaper, which does have certain implications such as how I can dress and act. I didn’t plan on getting drunk and throwing things, but I don’t represent a company that A) would have an image to protect and B) could fire me for fucking up that image.

Being my own boss creates these little conundrums. I can be the cool boss or the good boss. Luckily, I’ve been both in life and know the difference. Wearing the Flyers jersey and some clogs probably won’t go over to well…

Wish me well in my trip to LA without a GPS…yikes!