Unfortunately, the drive north from San Francisco was quite a bit longer than I had anticipated (approximately 54 hrs.), so I missed the shows Thursday night (incl. Old Joe Clarks and Mountain Con). My first show was Polecat on Friday, and they were loud and actually pretty annoying. I swung over to catch 100 Watt Smile, who didn't grab me, so I arrived early for Barbara Manning, a review of which can be found elsewhere. On stage was Russ Tolman, accompanied by some guy playing this weird machine. I didn't know what to make of it.
After Manning, Map of Wyoming took the stage. I had heard good things about these guys, but, truth be told, they were quite bland. I dunno, they just bored me.
I had planned on catching the Pinehurst Kids, but I was tired so I hopped in the Saturn and slept for about 5 hrs.
Saturday afternoon, Tim Easton played an in-store show, which was cool...very loose and a nice preview for his show later that night at Tugboat. After the in-store, we headed over for a BBQ on the SW side. Ran into Peter Blackstock who says that the Sadies will never be covered in ND. Also saw Al "vodka" Millar, Miki, and the aforementioned Mr. Easton.
The evening began with Blue Spark at Ash Street (or "Blues Park" as the sign called them). They rocked pretty hard; Mike McCready joined them for a fantastic swing through "Powderfinger" (the band mentioned a "friend from Seattle"; cool how he didn't say he was from Pearl Jam; I don't think anyone knew). Next, it was over to the Tugboat for Tim Easton, who played the best set of the weekend. He mixed old ("All the Pretty Girls") and new ("Carry Me") and threw in a ferocious reading of an old Brownie McGhee/Sonny Terry blues tune. It was captivating.
The night had hardly begun, as we were next treated to Wiskey Biscuit at Union Jack's. This was the most rock and roll show of the weekend, as the band was accompanied onstage by strippers and smoke billows. Their lead singer is a star-in-waiting, with the swagger of Jagger joined by the charisma of Jim Morrison and a voice reminiscent of the Flaming Lips' lead guy. These guys RAWKED. Pick up the record.
Back up to Cobalt Lounge for Richmond Fontaine, who were much much better than I could have ever imagined they'd be, based on the postcard comments from last summer when they opened for Tweedy at Lounge Ax. Willy Vlautin asked me to get him a drink and I said "Who the fuck do you think you are, Willy Vlautin or something?" to which he chuckled. After RF, the night came to an abrupt end as neither the Walkabouts nor the Helio Sequence interested me enough to keep me from diving into my heated, legally-parked Saturn for a few hours of zzzzzs.
Lc.