Ah. The big gush and the streets are finally ours again. Overheard label execs whining, “It’s been fun. But I’m so ready to go home.” We were ready, too, Holmes. (Get outta me!) So, thanks for invading, thrashing, and then bolting, because we’re better for it – as we are every damn year.
So many good moments this year to make it all worth the traffic.
Like, starting the week off on the lineup of a very new musican’s cooperative The Music Gym. We were part of their first night open. Temporary liquor license. They didn’t even have water. But what they did have was Los Bastardos, a duo you don’t see often: a turntablist and a live drummer. Hot. Storm Shadow was there, too, of the Fresh Boy Crew. Some good hip hop.
Then there was rapping at a showcase with friends of my old band, The Earthworms. Used to be in The 40 Thieves, and they rap lots with those boys. While at that show, I met Rosetta Stoned, the married Home Slice investor I’ve always had a crush on, and many, many-a Lone Stars. Very formally.
The next night found me at a pool party on Willow Street, the East Side run over by well-dressed hip kids and the stylings of favorite deejays, local homeboy Ian Orth (of Learning Secrets) and Florida’s hottest and smiliest Diplo. Staying up late is great, even when you have to wake up early the next day …
The next day I saw Janeane Garofalo on SoCo, Patrice Pike’s ex-gf who I always wanna know, and Jack Passion, winner of the 2007-2008 Longest Natural Beard Competition. Then I rapped in an impromptu cypher with Blacklisted Individuals, a local hip hop group that sadly I had never known before. But will never forget.
But the crowning point of the whole weekend, for me, was Sunday’s FREE GaybiGayGay, where I was late (because Awthum Fest was supposed to be happening and we were supposed to be playing …) but I did get to see MEN (J.D. Samson and Johanna Fateman of Le Tigre) spinning some hot, hot, make-the-whole-damn-party-dance-type grooves. Then I got to see Hey, Willpower, who has made up synchronized dances for most of his songs and by the end, of the set, you wanna Jazzercize with this boy. Especially when he took off his shirt, shyly … “I’m a little fat ‘cuz I’m on tour.” Believe me, or any of the swooning gay boys dancing near me, he looked good. During Chainbow‘s set, my band convinced Silky to let us play and she said yes. But the cops came (just as Stanley Roy and the PIG Fuckers were sound-checking. I think the 5.0 sensed the pork prodding in the air) and then the rain started to, and the party was called to a close. Next year, they all said.
And, for real. I can’t wait. Shit, it’s a love-hate relationship, but, you damn crowded uppity music festival with yer platinum badges and VIP RSVP plus-ones … I just can’t quit you.
This article appears in March 14 • 2008.