Bonnaroo, 2011

Nothing rings truer than the old addage, "third time's a charm." I can adamently say that this was personally the best Bonnaroo yet.

Katy and I drove to Kelsey and Sam's house in Murfreesboro on Wednesday night to meet up with the rest of the caravan. Now, I wasn't sure how many of us there was going to be, but I was more than pleasantly surprised by our fleet: John and Katy Rosa, Sam, Kelsey, Adam Carmona, Peter Sherrill, Bonnie, Caitlin, Tori, Mary, Deejay, Matt, Casey, Sarah, Hannah and Cynthia, and Dylan were included in the fun-bunch. I hope I got everyone right there.

At midnight, I led the caravan down 55 to the 'secret' entrance to the festival. I felt like a king or some shit, leading that many people. The festivities in the house before we left helped play a part in that feeling, also. Watching everyone sticking together from my sideview mirrors was elating.

The wait was several hours, but a charged up iPod and ridiculous playlists get you through the wee hours of the mornin'. 'Safety Dance' was heard more than once. No regrets.

Waitin' in line! 4am

Not only did everyone stay together on the interstate, we also made it in the festival grounds together and set up the most badass canopy/tent tunnel as the sun rose. Matt's "BONNAROOOOOO" wails were increasingly hype.

Thursday morning! Hannah and Kelsey

Some of us slept, most of us didn't. I think I ran on two hours of sweaty ant naps for the rest of the day. We saw the sun rise, fall, and rise again Thursday. No doubt that was the longest day of the weekend.

Party Horn! Sam

"Well I'm pa-roud to be an Americaaaan! Where at least I know I'm freee!" Katy

Baby Mary takin' a cat nap

A recreation of the 2009 original below. I think Katy has too much emotion, and I have not enough, haha. I was way more pumped than my face lets on. Good to see I've lost weight! We both look way more grown up!

Damnnnn girl!

The one-and-only Tori. Such a class act.

I saw me some Karen Elson, J. Cole, and Sleigh Bells as Thursday night rolled around. I tried to get pumped for Beats Antique, but an hour of standing inside of a big glittery heat bubble until they came on didn't sound pleasant to me at that point of the night. Instead, Katy and I mosied over to the On Tap Lounge to hear the sweet sweet sounds of David Mayfield. His lil' sis Jessica Lea hopped on stage for a song, which was an unexpected treat. I bet even when they argue it still sounds like folk magic.

Dust babies; Hannah, Tori, Katy

Katy and I chillin' with not one, but two Santas!

Miss America!

Friday finally arrived. Oh my god. I can't even think of a better way to spend a Friday. It was beautiful start to finish. The line into Centeroo was ridiculous in the morning, so I had to miss Jessica Lea Mayfield's set unfortunately.


Rollin' ... cigarettes.

Takin' a pee, super stealthy.

Showers? We don't need no stinkin' showers!

Katy, other Sam, and I made it to see Bela Fleck and his original Flecktones (Victor Wooten, represent) on the Which Stage. They were granola jam bandin' it a little too hard, so Katy and I left for Justin Townes Earle at The Other Tent.

(In between all this, Katy and I chilled in the VIP lounge for a bit. There I saw Donald Glover get interviewed, and Ray LaMontagne walked by. My heart skipped a beat.)

We stopped for water on the way and ended up standing there for an hour. No go on Justin, but rail spot Abigail Washburn, then Wanda Jackson directly afterwards. Now, Abigail Washburn was incredible. Her multi-instrumentalist band member Chris Hughes was not only extraordinarily talented, he was a sexy beast too. Wailin' on that trumpet, shit. Bela Fleck came on stage for a couple songs, too. Apparently he and Abigail had a hush-hush wedding. Perfect union. But, Wanda Jackson. My god, that woman is everything I dream of being and more. Such a badass! Not only did she sing "Fujiyama Mama" and "Let's Have a Party" and fucking "Tunnel of Love", she spouted off little anecdotes about her career. Stories about 1950s hunkalicious Elvis, anyone? Quote, "He asked me to be his girl. And I said, I'll have to think about that. I'm just kidding, I said yes! I wore his ring around my neck for a year." I'm sorry Mrs. Jackson, woooo, I am jealous.

Abigail Washburn


The First Lady of Rock'n'Roll, Mrs. Wanda Jackson

We stayed for her entire set, then jubilantly skipped over to the Which Stage again for the end of Ray LaMontagne. I got to hear "God Willin' and the Creek Don't Rise", a cover of "Blue Canadian Rockies", "Trouble", and "Jolene" as I waited in the Primus-pit line. It wasn't the triple-digit weather that was making my swoon. Ray-Ray has a voice like chocolate covered strawberries. You can hear his hurt three counties over.

Before I go on, I want to give a shout out to my three girls: Molly, Mary Jane, and Lucy. They were always there for me. I love you guys.

Katy, Peter, John, Adam, Sam, Kelsey, and I waited in line to get into the pit for Primus. It was fucking hot. That's the way it goes though. I said hi to Lucy before they let us inside the pit. Alright, you guys. Primus rocked my fucking face off. Whamola, pig mask, "Jerry Was a Racecar Driver", inflatable astronauts with subliminal short films projected on their masks, Les Claypool's little bass dance circle thing, AND, GLITTER CANNONS FELL FROM THE SKY. THERE WERE PARACHUTERS. WHAT THE FUCK. It was insane. Ineffable. It was overwhelming. Kelsey ended up getting a set-list (with an original Les Claypool doodle!!) and the lyrics for a new song they performed! She is a fucking go-getter.


Right after Primus; Favorite picture. I love you guys more than anything.

The above pictured crowd staggered our way to catch the end of Arcade Fire near the food tents. Adam's enthusiasm was adorable. And after eating nachos to Arcade Fire? BIG BOI. BIIIIGGGG BOOOIIII. He played in the Other Tent (which, I think, nailed it; The Other Tent was bumpin' all weekend long). I dance for at least seven hours Friday night. Big Boi had a stage full of dancers, ranging from a six year old boy crumping, to four fat dudes doing choreographed numbers. He pulled ladies up on stage, he had a live band complete with horn section. HE PLAYED SO FRESH AND SO CLEAN. AND I LIKE THE WAY YOU MOVE. AANNNDDD GHETTO MUSICK. I was dying!

Bassnectar played at the same time, so we headed to This Tent to watch some of that. I don't like that kind of music normally. Wait, I retract that. I like "Time Stretch" and "Basshead". I get why other people go fucking nuts for it, though. It's obvious. I was still talking to Lucy at this point, so I was so impressed by the power this man had over at least 25,000 people. It was the biggest party I have ever witnessed. When that bass kicked in, people would throw handfuls of glowsticks in the air; I was buggin'. It was amazing to watch. I danced my ass off.

I tried to jump up and take a picture. Made sense at the time, haha.

I would say I made it back to camp at 3:30 in the morning. I fell asleep with a big-ass grin on my face.


On to day three. Saturday was glorious, also. There were some crushing lows, but if they hadn't have happened, two of the most magical moments of my life wouldn't have happened either. Sometimes things just pan out. I don't do the whole 'fate' thing, but shit works out when you least expect it to sometimes.

Katy and I met up with her fam in the morning on the tour bus her mom hitched a ride on. I ate banana-bread-peanut-butter-filled-chocolate covered birthday cake with Gina Gershon in the air conditioning. I am probably the luckiest gal ever. Sometimes I just have to close my eyes and think about all the awesome shit that happens to me. I am very grateful.

The lovely family that is Katy, Tracy, Steve, Sam, and Gina.

Katy and I chilled in the VIP lounge until the afternoon. As we were leaving, I spotted David Mayfield and introduced myself and shook his hand. I told him, "You're great. Your music is great." He said he really appreciated it and thanked me. Swoon.



We caught some Man Man in This Tent at 5PM; they were alright. They sound much more sinister recorded. It was kind of disappointing to hear how poppy they were live.

The dynamic duo, Sam and Kelsey


Me and Tori after our speedy Mushroom Fountain shower. Check out my hair, haha. So gnarly.

Then I had to make a sacrifice. Katy and I decided to wait for Loretta Lynn instead of wait in line for the Black Keys to get a pit spot. We were on the rail for Loretta, but it was suprisingly underwhelming. Her daughters opened with a tacky Tootsie's song with this goofy Honky Tonk row band. Loretta finally came on, but the damage was done. She wasn't even in to it. I got to hear "You Ain't Woman Enough to Take my Man" and "Fist City", so it wasn't a total loss.

The country queen

We headed to the What Stage for the Black Keys, but there were around 40,000 people already there waiting. It was crazy; Last year they played in This Tent, and now they're headlining. It was almost too similar to the Kings of Leon debacle. We decided we'd be really sad the whole show if we stayed, so Katy and I left. As soon as we made it to the Centeroo exit, they opened with 'Thickfreakness', and we both cried uncontrollably. It was a low low. To remedy our heartache, we chose the 'proud mother' path and walked back to camp. Two blitzed gay guys ran into us, and we ended up chatting about dick piercings and everclear. It was a mood lifter for sure.

We ended up about-facing and headed back in for Bootsy Collins and the Funk University in The Other Tent. Apparently he went on at least an hour late, so the crowd was minimal enough that Katy and I fanagled our way front and center. Bootsy is a GOD. A man in an Indian headdress beside me needed a lighter for his Chillum, and because I offered him one, I got to partake a couple times. Hell yes.

Near the end of the set, Bootsy parted the crowd like a funk Moses, and hopped in to 'touch the people.' Katy and I were on either side of the part, and lo and behold, we both got to hug him at the same time. WE HUGGED BOOTSY. BOOTSYYYY! HUGS!!!

BOOTSY COLLINS AND THE FUNK UNIVERSITY

The set ended, we were ecstatic, and then we waited. It was fucking worth it, because we were hands-on-the-rail center. Gogol Bordello went on at 2AM in the same tent; Eugene Hutz 'curated' the tent all day, so there was some insane foreign punk stuff going on from 12PM until Gogol played that morning. I'd like to give a shout-out now to the gentleman named Andrew who was beside us that helped us through the wait.

Slightly edited! Thanks Andrew!

A man named Omar Souleyman played at 1AM, and we had the absolute pleasure of watching that madness. I was high on life at this point, so it was extra insane. Omar Souleyman is a 5'4" Syrian man in full gear (kafiyeh, etc.) with sunglasses and a mustache. I will have to describe the music as traditional-Arabic-singing-coupled-with-two-keyboards-and-nine-circling-speakers-played-by-a-pock-marked-Julio. That seems fitting. And there was a translator who looked straight out of a Wes Anderson film.

Omar Souleyman

Then, to cap the night off, Gogol played. I cannot even describe to you to proximity in which Katy and I were to Eugene Hutz. You couldn't be any closer. That was the most intense, challenging, taxing show I've ever been a part of. Imagine 20,000 people pushing you against a steel barricade (that would slightly tip from time to time) while militant punk is being screamed in your face by a mustachioed jack-in-the-box. I was lifted off my feet at one point. I feared for my life at least five times. I got kicked in the face three times by crowd-surfers being violently yanked out of the crowd. Katy almost broke her wrist. This was all worth it when Eugene jumped on top of the barricade, on top of me, Katy, and the one other girl up front. We held his thighs as he sang inches away from our faces. It was absolute euphoria. I did end up getting swept back two rows in the middle of the set. I'm telling you, it was on the verge of violence in there. I don't think I've ever been more uncomfortable in my life. Bathing suit was a bad choice, in heinsight. I may have flashed some people. I know Katy did, haha. The show ended, and a dude called us over as I was frantically searching for my backpack. Before Gogol started, the security guard said we couldn't put our backpacks on the other side of the rail because they were safety hazards, so we put them in front of our feet. Naturally, I got separated. Dude tells us that it was in his way, so he put it on the other side during the show. A security guard then grabbed it, and chucked it into the swirling, sweaty mass. I was dumbfounded and on the verge of tears upon hearing this. I mean, money, wallet, keys, camera, water. Gone. So, I paced around the rail just hoping it would appear out of thin air. Mr. Eugene Hutz himself walks out. There are maybe ten people still waiting around. Katy and I plaster ourselves to the rail once again to say hi. Katy tells him, "Eugene, my friend lost her backpack and she needs a hug." To which he replies, "I am-a ti-yerd" then gives me a big ol' hug. I whispered "wonderful show" into his ear, he said, "A-thank you" and sauntered is sweaty drunk Ukranian beautiful ass off to the side of the stage once again.

The whole backpack losing thing? Worth it. No diggity.

And, I ended up getting it the next day at Lost and Found. Minus the $30 that was in it, but no fucking worries. See what I mean? Shit pans out.

Reunion!

Sunday was perfect too. Katy and I ended up with Gina's passes to get sidestage for anything. I told you, I am a lucky girl. Mavis Staple's soothed our souls as we danced in the rafters on the What Stage. She blew us kisses.

Mavis Staples and her awesome band that included Buddy Miller and Patty Griffin


We swayed to Iron & Wine three strides away from the band on the Which Stage, and then headed to Cold War Kids in This Tent in the afternoon. I heard 'We Used to Vacation' in all of its squirrely decadence.

Then, on to the big guns. Robert Plant and the Band of Joy played on the What Stage at 6PM. He opened with 'Black Dog'. I bawled my little red eyes out three seperate times. Just unadulterated joy. 'Misty Mountain Hop' and 'Ramble On' followed later. I could've have died right then and there and life would have been perfect. Life is perfect.

I never thought I'd see the legend that is Robert Plant live in my lifetime. Katy and I did our best-friend handshake at every show on Sunday. We were two highly emotional gals.


And, fucking after Robert Plant, the day still wasn't over! We went back to the Which Stage to see The Strokes finish up. We unfortunately couldn't get sidestage for them, but (another shit-pans-out moment) that's alright. We stood directly behind the stage for the last couple of minutes. The Strokes walked off, saw us still clapping and cheering on our lonesome, and Julian Casablancas put his hands together and bowed to us. Instant melt. I swear to sweet baby Jesus. AND THEN JOHN WATERS WALKED BY IN A SKULL SUIT.

We had a Thai iced tea-cap afterwards (a tradition at this point) and walked back to our campsite. I don't think 'walked' is the right word. I think we floated. It was with a heavy heart that we had to leave. I want to thank all whom we camped with, it was a fucking blast. This, once again, was the best Bonnaroo yet. That's not the best conclusion ever, but it's hard to put it into words. I love music, I love my friends, and I love Tennessee.

Manchester, Tennessee, you're alright with me. From the left: Dylan, Peter, Cynthia, Kelsey, Kasey, Sam, Katy, and me, lookin' tan as a mug.

Summertime, and the livin' is easy.

Things are goin' great right now.
That's all.
I really have no qualms about anything at the moment.
This is good.

Queen Bee

I worked at a kitten and puppy adoption store when I was thirteen and fourteen. There was always this one type of dog that no one wanted, every two months or so, that got too big to stay in the raised puppy cages and had to be moved to the floor kennels. And there it would stay, save for a few vet visits. Ultimately, they would disappear somewhere. I feel like those dogs sometimes.


"I get sentimental over the music of the 90s. Deplorable, really. But I love it all. As far as I’m concerned the 90s was the best era for music ever, even the stuff that I loathed at the time, even the stuff that gave me stomach cramps."
— Rob Sheffield (Love Is a Mix Tape)

and

"When we die, we will turn into songs, and we will hear each other and remember each other."
— Rob Sheffield (Love Is a Mix Tape)


Rob Sheffield makes me sentimental.



Things that are alright:

1. I got three new records. As irresponsible as it may have been to spend $30 in the middle of the month, I always feel better about it after I sit down and listen to them. Maddox Brothers and Rose (a Capitol classics reissue; http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maddox_Brothers_and_Rose), The Flying Burrito Bros 'Live From Tokyo', and 'Underground Blues', a conglomeration of John Lee Hooker, Lightin' Hopkins, and Howlin' Wolf for the most part.

2. My photography professor said she really likes what I've been doing, and that I just need to be more confident in it. This was said at the 2011 graduates' BFA Opening Show. I only have two more years until that time comes.

3. The weather is enjoyable once again.

4. My brother and my two best friends visited me in Memphis this past weekend. Friday night we saw Gogol Bordello at Minglewood Hall, drank a lot of rum, and may have dabbled in some other things. I took a lot of weird long exposure photography, finished a roll, and promptly lost it. Saturday, we recovered in the park and Ross and I tried to fly a kite. Then we ate chili and tamales at Blues City Cafe and walked them off on Beale Street. There was a fleet of Top Gun Elvises. Then we spent the night in our friend's swanky Mud Island apartment and went drunk swimming. They all left Sunday morning, and I took a four hour nap with the windows open and the ceiling fan on.

5. I learned how to use a large format camera. I can't load the film into the processing tank to save my life.

6. I have acquired a roll of color 120 film that is six years expired; I am going to take portraits downtown tomorrow. I am excited.

7. My skin is relatively nice thanks to the weather and that drunk swimming.

8. Heidi got a bumpin' sound set-up in her itty bitty convertible and it's amazingly fun.



A wild pack of family dogs came runnin' through the yard
As my little sister played, the dogs took her away
- Modest Mouse

The saddest day in music history.

My most favorite band of all time, The White Stripes, officially broke up on this day of February 2, 2011.

"The White Stripes do not belong to Meg and Jack anymore. The White Stripes belong to you now and you can do with it whatever you want. The beauty of art and music is that it can last forever if people want it to. Thank you for sharing this experience. Your involvment will never be lost on us and we are truly grateful.

Sincerely,
Meg and Jack White
The White Stripes
"

The White Stripes' music will always belong to me; It is a great loss to the musical community, but they are right in wanting to preserve the beauty of the band. Long live Jack and Meg, and keep on bettering Nashville, Mr. White.

Snow.

Monday, January 10, 2011

1:20 AM

An excerpt from my journal

It is almost completely silent outside. I'm sitting on the front porch with two fleece blankets and a pack of cigarettes. All I can hear is my pen scratiching, wind far off in the distance, and the hum of a freight train. One lone car just drove down McMurray I assume. The static buzz of light snow is falling in front of the streetlamp like dying moths. My smoke travels upwards and vanishes. I can't properly document it. I took two pictures, and an eleven second recording on my cellphone. It is eerily peaceful. I see snow hit the already covered monkey grass, but I can't hear it. It is beautiful. I don't even feel cold, but my fingers sting. It is picking up now. Bigger flakes. It may snow for the next two days, in spite of my loneliness. The parking lot is already blanketed. The old man next door just coughed in his sleep. I assume their bedroom is on the second floor. The high-pitched zap of the television just rang in my right ear. A train is blowing its horn miles away. A sedan fish-tailed slightly on Edmondson. The snow is now obscuring the streetlamp. My ears are rubbing the inside of my hood.

I walked down the road to the mailboxes to take more pictures. I've lost enough weight now that I can zip my camera up into my big coat. Who knows if they'll come out, but that 400 CN black and white film picks up some really wonderful detail. I made a snowangel in the middle of the parking lot, but it won't be there in the morning. I don't even like Elliott Smith but it's all I'm listening to at the moment. He reminds me of snow. Tomorrow I hope to shoot Katy around her house with a black metal vibe, similar to the satanic Vogue spread that I've seen pictures of. The landscape at her house is odd. There's a big church and sparse trees. Her dog, Dali, is stark black. I'd like to have her running around; That would make for a pretty interesting figure. My winter break has been partly nice, hanging out with some people and drinking too much champagne. But the other part has been numbingly sad. I sit in my dad's abandoned town home and watch Sundance movies I got from the library. The thermostat is on the economy setting, so sometimes it will chill me to the point I feel sick. I don't know what I expected from this break anyway, I suppose. A smidge of the unordinary would be greatly welcomed. I want to take a mini one-man adventure but I don't have the funds for gas. Maybe I'll get some weird gig where I can make $100. The snow may ostracize me from the world though; I'm not great at driving in it. I'll just take more pictures. That keeps me insanely sane.

A photo from my "Sleep" series.

One of my best photographs to date.

My relatively new hair.

"Stormy weather

The kids are making a racket

In the wilderness

The wild lives are so mild

And I get caught up in the moonlight

Reaching out for a rotten egg

I don't want to beg

It's crystal clear

Your time is almost gone."

-Beck, Mutations (1998)

10 Things I Like, Have Done, or Enjoyed these past months:

1. Trip to Michigan for Festivus; Saw the whole fam and shot my final for Digital Imaging. It was wonderful and all I did was guzzle Busch beer for four days and make leftover bowls and they all love me anyways.

2. Got the free iPod I somehow accquired up and running; It's only 4 gigs, but that's okay because it's blue, free, and in working order.

3. Treated myself to some records today because I finished one of the hardest courses I have ever taken: Bed on the Floor (Woody Guthrie, 1965), Gone Gone Gone (Everly Brothers, 1965), The Father of Bluegrass: Bill Monroe and His Bluegrass Boys (1974). And, I absconded with a slew of 33s and 45s from my grandma's attic including Harvest (Neil Young, 1972) and Tapestry (Carole King, 1971).

4. Kodak Professional Black and White 400 CN film. Oh god

5. Reverend Horton Heat, Legendary Shack Shakers, and Split Lip Rayfield at the Exit/In in November. J.D. Wilkes is one of the most extraordinary front men I have ever seen.

6. Went to Little Rock for the weekend to celebrate my roommate Heidi's birthday. There, we: went to the CIRCUS, drank coffee, I rode her sister's hornery Walker, shot a really strange photoshoot, ate Chinese food with her grandma, and became mentally recharged in time for finals week.

7. Cut my bangs real short and kind of found my hairstyle stride.

8. Pall Mall Blues, though these are kind of a constant.

9. Netflix television binges and Saturday Night Live catch-up marathons.

10. New mustard convertible gloves, purple knit hat, red ear warmer band thing, and an olive anorak coat with plaid quilted lining and a furry collar with snap buttons.

Currently listening to: Muffled Vanilla Ice from our upstairs neighbors.

Currently drinking: Ugly Mug coffee (Memphis, represent!)

Currently thinking: Blogging is better than printing at school, school ends in a week, and DAMN, it's cold in here.

This was me running across Cooper with my shutter open.






Well, I'm lonely. Not so much I'm-forever-alone-and-I'm-ugly-and-terrible-and-I'll-die-a-sad-spinster, but like I-want-to-watch-The Notebook- and-cry-but-Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron-made-me-cry-not-but-a-couple-of-days-ago-so-that-kind-of-cancels-it-out-and-come-Halloween-I-will-dress-sexy-so-maybe-something-will-happen kind of lonely. Who am I kidding. Get me a whopper! Now I'm quoting Burger King commercials. This is bad. Aretha? Where are you? Sing me a song. If Leonardo daVinci came back to life and wanted to make a tricycle, he would pick me to help because I am the greatest third wheel in history.





Reasons I'm A Great Third Wheel:


-I can keep the conversation going when you can't.


-I will be genuinely interested in what the prospectful new beau is saying.


-I am nonthreatening lookswise; I will not steal your man, and he will not be distracted.


-Since I'm not trying to impress anyone, I will be goofy and entertain the two of you.





Tricylces are important. To toddlers, and alternative motorcycle men. People who need to make money pulling people around town on a bike. Bears in circuses like them.





Crybaby.

Oh, and since this is mainly a music blog as of late, I've been listening to 98.9, Music For Generation X, a lot because my tape deck broke my Don Mclean cassette and now I don't trust it. Can't lose Roy, too, because then I'd surely be sad. I like hearing "Say My Name" and Blindmelon songs all day. Sometimes "Tootsie Roll" comes on and I know it will be a good day.