Friday night, The Independent:
After weeks of watching increasingly ridiculous posts on craigslist wherein scalpers took advantage of Ween fans desperate to attend the sold-out show, I had completely resigned myself to a night of laundry. Until 3pm Friday afternoon, when my fairy godmother Aimee declared she had a +1 at the window thanks to a certain jerky ex-husband and it was mine all mine. So not only did I get in for free, I got a wristband that permitted me access to the balcony, where I could fully enjoy Ween well above the steaming mass of seething humanity on the floor. At some point in the middle of the show a perfect stranger offered me a pipe, but I made the universal sign for "I'd love for you to smoke me out but I'm a little congested".
"There is a documentary on BBC2 this evening about “Squawking Bird,” the leader of the Blackfoot Indians in the 1860s. Now this starts at 8:45 and goes on for approximately three-quarters of an hour."
"I’m sorry are you talking to me?"
"Indeed I am. Yes, now, is it possible for me to reserve the BBC2 channel for the duration of this televisual feast?"
"Why don't you talk properly?"
Saturday night, Cafe du Nord:
The Album Leaf
Michael Talbott
Lymbyc Systym
I ran into Mo and Patrick just after Lymbyc Systym's set and we all agreed: Who knew Phoenix, Arizona, could breed such good music? As for Michael Talbott, he's moving to New York soon so this was probably the last SF show for a while, and I was grateful to hear him play again. Bart Davenport was in the audience for that part of the show and I see him around enough he's going to start thinking I'm stalking him. The Album Leaf were exquisite, unsurprisingly. That's music that makes me grateful to be alive.
Sunday morning I arrived in Yerba Buena Gardens for the San Francisco Theater Festival in time to see the SF Shakespeare Festival perform "Beatles & Bard", a clever amalgamation of Beatles tunes and well-known Shakespearean speeches. They wrapped up with Puck's farewell from A Midsummer Night's Dream, which always makes me sigh wistfully. If we shadows have offended...
From Yerba Buena I took MUNI over to Stern Grove to hear the amazing Mavis Staples. Jackie Greene opened, this 25-year-old roots and blues wonderchild who had a few songs that wormed their way right into my perpetually cracked heart. It was a gorgeous afternoon, the first time I've seen the sun out in the Grove in years. Also, I need to share this conversation I overheard from the next blanket over:
"Who's performing today?"
"I think Gracy May."
"No no, Mavis Gray."
"Oh, I've been meaning to ask! Kevin will know this, he knows everything about music. Who sings Don't Worry Be Happy?"
"Bob Marley?"
"That's what I said!"
"Oh no I know! Bryan Ferry!"
"Yeah!"
When Jackie Greene started playing, opening his set with some unmistakably bluesy guitar, they reacted quite favorably: "Oh excellent, it's going to be jazz today!"
Then there were the dudes who sauntered over to my corner of the meadow before Mavis started bringing the gospel and plopped down right behind me.
Dude: Is anyone going to care if we smoke over here?
Me: Yeah.
Dude: Really?
Me: Yeah.
Dude: Well too fuckin' bad.
Nearby lady: No really, there's no smoking anywhere in the Grove.
Dude: God it's not like you people aren't breathing car exhaust all the time anyway. Well we'll just sit here and vibe out then.
Me: ...
Dude: Baaaaaaad vibe. Baaaaaaad Vibe.
Me: ...
Hookers and cocaine are fun!
Stephen Colbert manages to get Rep. Robert Wexler, D-Fla., to permanently wreck his career in politics. See for yourself how Colbert "nails" him.
Cheng Min-Sheng, Midspring. Peasant painting from the Huhsien County, China, c.1973