Tha Birth of Tha Blog/A Birthday Tale
Today is (was, actually, as it's after midnight) my 35th birthday. I feel good about that. Really.
Got a call from my folks. One from my aunt Gwyn, as well. Couple of friends called to wish me the best. But it's a Thursday, not much of a night for celebrating. For most folks, it's a school night. Of course, I have a weird schedule, and Thursday night for me is analogous to Saturday morning for most people. Except that it's not morning. Well, somewhere it's morning. East Timor? Vanuatu? Anyway, that's beside the point. Not much was going on.
So around 8 :00 pm, feeling a little stir crazy, I decided it would be best to get out of the house and go see some live music.
This has been a preoccupation of mine as of late. I've been feeling a bit guilty over the past few months for not taking advantage of Portland's music scene like I should be, and with Music Fest Northwest coming up in early September (for those of you in other parts of the country, MFNw started as a companion festival to South By Southwest - yes, THAT South By Southwest), I can't help but feel like I need to get out there and shake off the rust a bit. So I checked the local listings, and found a free show at the Doug Fir Lounge (walking distance from the homestead here at Camp Belmont), the headliner being Ohmega Watts, openers being Copy and Alela Diane. Now, I didn't know Ohmega Watts or Alela Diane from Phil Collins, but I've been hearing a LOT about Copy lately. Hot new band of the year, according to the pundits at Willamette Week. So...why not? And off I went.
I got to the Doug Fir (again, for you out-of-towners: imagine the Jetsons' log cabin, converted to a music venue. That pretty much describes the Doug Fir. A bit high-concept, yeah, but a nice place to see a show, especially since it's one of the few non-smoking venues in Stumptown, and their booking agent is connected like Gotti) several songs into Alela's set. She was up there by herself, totally exposed and doing a great job. Really good acoustic folk, just totally pulling it off, and that means a lot coming from me, as I'm generally not a huge fan of folk singers.
And then came Copy. Now, a description is needed here. Copy is not a band per se, but rather a guy in a red suit with a Korg synthesizer and a laptop (Think Wayne Coyne, but instead of white, the suit is red. And there's no band behind him). The post-modern take on the one man band, you might say? Or perhaps it's just the wave of the future. Either way, I'm skeptical. Very skeptical. I may be showing my age here, but I really like that guitar-bass-drums paradigm. With maybe a piano/keyboard or fiddle (ala early Jayhawks, that is, before Mark Olson left the band) thrown in. Exile On Main Street, that sort of thing. But I try to be as open minded as possible, so all right, guy with a computer, convince me! And I have to say, a couple songs into his set, he was doing a pretty good job. But just then, something happened that really made the whole evening.
A very cute twenty-something hipster chick (imagine Janeane Garafalo's little sister) leaned over to me and said "Who's this?" So I said "Copy." She said "Who?" And I said "Uhh, he calls himself Copy." And she paused, and said "Oh... Yeah!" And just then, for a brief moment, I felt much cooler at 35 than I ever felt in my twenties. Thank you, hipster chick! That was the best birthday present ever!
Okay, yeah, it would have been cooler if I'd gotten her digits, but she was off before I could chat her up. Anyway, I really enjoyed the rest of Copy's set. I didn't stay for Ohmega Watts. I'll catch him next time around.
Thanks for reading,
Tommy
Got a call from my folks. One from my aunt Gwyn, as well. Couple of friends called to wish me the best. But it's a Thursday, not much of a night for celebrating. For most folks, it's a school night. Of course, I have a weird schedule, and Thursday night for me is analogous to Saturday morning for most people. Except that it's not morning. Well, somewhere it's morning. East Timor? Vanuatu? Anyway, that's beside the point. Not much was going on.
So around 8 :00 pm, feeling a little stir crazy, I decided it would be best to get out of the house and go see some live music.
This has been a preoccupation of mine as of late. I've been feeling a bit guilty over the past few months for not taking advantage of Portland's music scene like I should be, and with Music Fest Northwest coming up in early September (for those of you in other parts of the country, MFNw started as a companion festival to South By Southwest - yes, THAT South By Southwest), I can't help but feel like I need to get out there and shake off the rust a bit. So I checked the local listings, and found a free show at the Doug Fir Lounge (walking distance from the homestead here at Camp Belmont), the headliner being Ohmega Watts, openers being Copy and Alela Diane. Now, I didn't know Ohmega Watts or Alela Diane from Phil Collins, but I've been hearing a LOT about Copy lately. Hot new band of the year, according to the pundits at Willamette Week. So...why not? And off I went.
I got to the Doug Fir (again, for you out-of-towners: imagine the Jetsons' log cabin, converted to a music venue. That pretty much describes the Doug Fir. A bit high-concept, yeah, but a nice place to see a show, especially since it's one of the few non-smoking venues in Stumptown, and their booking agent is connected like Gotti) several songs into Alela's set. She was up there by herself, totally exposed and doing a great job. Really good acoustic folk, just totally pulling it off, and that means a lot coming from me, as I'm generally not a huge fan of folk singers.
And then came Copy. Now, a description is needed here. Copy is not a band per se, but rather a guy in a red suit with a Korg synthesizer and a laptop (Think Wayne Coyne, but instead of white, the suit is red. And there's no band behind him). The post-modern take on the one man band, you might say? Or perhaps it's just the wave of the future. Either way, I'm skeptical. Very skeptical. I may be showing my age here, but I really like that guitar-bass-drums paradigm. With maybe a piano/keyboard or fiddle (ala early Jayhawks, that is, before Mark Olson left the band) thrown in. Exile On Main Street, that sort of thing. But I try to be as open minded as possible, so all right, guy with a computer, convince me! And I have to say, a couple songs into his set, he was doing a pretty good job. But just then, something happened that really made the whole evening.
A very cute twenty-something hipster chick (imagine Janeane Garafalo's little sister) leaned over to me and said "Who's this?" So I said "Copy." She said "Who?" And I said "Uhh, he calls himself Copy." And she paused, and said "Oh... Yeah!" And just then, for a brief moment, I felt much cooler at 35 than I ever felt in my twenties. Thank you, hipster chick! That was the best birthday present ever!
Okay, yeah, it would have been cooler if I'd gotten her digits, but she was off before I could chat her up. Anyway, I really enjoyed the rest of Copy's set. I didn't stay for Ohmega Watts. I'll catch him next time around.
Thanks for reading,
Tommy
posted by Tommy at 11:18 PM
2 Comments:
I don't get it. Where's the angry? You seem pretty mellow to me. (I guess that comes with age. Heh heh.) But the Garofalo obsession definitely marks you as a goddamn 'Merica-hatin' librul.
Happy (belated) birthday, old man.
Mmmm...Garofalo...
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