My Olympus recorder (the one I use for all my interviews) is getting pretty full, so before sitting down to do work this afternoon I started at the first file and have been plowing through 01-78. Most of these are pretty hilarious (including that time I hung out with Hanson), but there’s about 11 hours of tape from On The Record: The 2011 Local Music Issue that I can’t beaaaaar to part with. In the two years that I served as the Dig’s Music and Arts Editor, this probably ties Boston to Austin as my proudest accomplishment. Don’t know how we pulled it off, but we someone got 18 Boston music types (singers, songwriters, metalheads, DJs, performance artists, bookers, Boston Symphony Orchestra cellists, etc.) to hang out and take some goofy pictures and talk about the art they make with each other. #feelingz
+ Denim all day errday. Canadian tuxedos and cut-offs galore.
+ Many babies running around with those massive Princess Leia headphones
+ Guthries Guthries Everywhere
+ Matt Vasquez showing up wherever Dawes or Deer Tick are playing and either standing on things (pianos) or belting out things (namely the chorus of “When My Time Comes”)
+ Surprises guaranteed as far as sit-ins/cameos, as all the band’s are either friends or fans of each other. Faves today included Apache Relay/Ben Sollee, the Dawes/Deer Tick/Matt Vasquez love fest, Taylor Goldsmith supporting Jonny Corndawg on guitar and Conor Oberst/First Aid Kit & Brittany Howard/My Morning Jacket, even though I missed those last two.
+ John McCauley’s gold tooth
+ I mean really
+ Moms and elementary school art teachers DANCING THE SHIT OUT OF PATTY GRIFFIN SONGS
+ Jeff Tweedy’s guitars. Dear lord.
More or less.
The “mythology” or “legends” of Newport Folk always come up in conversations with bands playing the festival this year, in that they feel like they’re contributing to the fabric of Newport Folk and the legacy its established. SO! I took “mythology” pretty literally and basically drew up a comparative book report using the 2012 Newport Folk lineup and Greek myths.
In which I refer to Santigold as a “lightning rod clad in neon and shoulder pads.”
“Hailing A Cab In Hell” is more or less the soundtrack of this week, as I sit here on East Berkeley in a converted factory loft trying to pinpoint exactly when I’m going to die of heat stroke because like everyone else in Boston I AM DYING OF HEAT STROKE.
“At least once in your life, when you need to reset, pick a handful of places 4 to 8 hours away in every direction. Put them in a hat, get in the car,...”
THE NEWS FROM HOME
They found Mr. Chapel- my seventh grade science teacher- hiding under a bed at his neighbor’s house, completely naked. It wasn’t a...