All remiss with the regular updates, I know. It's official now: my job is no longer as of April 1st (and it's not a joke, unfortunately). So, amidst the slew of resumes and interviews and such, I bring you the week-plus in pictures:
Pablo Trucker had their album-y release show at the Sunset at the end of February, getting their sad bastard on in a big way with Conservative Dad. While the lighting escaped me, as the Sunset is prone to do depending on stage setup, the show was tremendous (as usual). Insert gushy verbose imaginary blogging here, heavy with love and adjective.
[Hi, John in Ballard, quoter of many things TIG! Such a coincidence that we answered phones together.]
As we were finishing up our imaginary craft-fest at Heather's tonight, I was talking to her about how and why people seem to be drawn to me, telling me I'm easy to talk to and spilling their guts practically on command. She said, "Well, you're still shiny. You haven't lived here long enough to be the way the rest of us have gotten." Me. Still shiny. Funny, I had to post up a note on my wall to remind me that Connecticut Victoria would be quite ecstatic to be spending even an hour in Seattle Victoria's shoes just a few weeks ago, and now it's creeping back to Shiny.
The pledge drive reinstated that in me last week, and I've got to say, even though I know most people despise it -- I fucking love the pledge drive. I love all of them, every time. I love the sense of community, I love the constant pleading for support that keeps everyone right-sized. I love being reaffirmed, I love sharing my love of the station and everything it means to me, and mostly I love the full frontal reconnection that the pledge drive brings with it. It's a snap back to reality, to the fact that KEXP isn't on the radio anywhere else but here, and how good we have it -- in a musical, creative, and supportive community sense. And I love how the djs get all cracked out by the end of the week, and the madness that ensues, and the cupcakes, and the friendships that get forged. Love it. Love. It.
I've started doing one-a-days, to take the pressure off of myself with my constant foray into improving at concert photography. To remember that I didn't start doing this to try to get paid for doing it, or to make a job out of it, or to beat myself up about it -- it was simply because I couldn't not carry a camera around anymore. And the more I obey the "pull over and take the picture" vibe, the better off I am for it. Just sayin'.
Port O'Brien played with M. Ward last weekend, and the set was a blast. They were, to make a lateral comparison, a little bit Moondoggies in the group-sing arena, plus some more indie rock roots, plus a stage presence that just wouldn't quit. The dancing, the enthusiasm, the wrangling of sounds from instruments, the well-placed silent breaks for a beat in a slew of good lyric -- I kept waiting for it to get bad, and it didn't. Total sleeper sneak-up surprise set, for me at least. And M. Ward was gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous: backlit, with a window (and fireflies!) up behind him on the stage, sound so good that it might have been a recording, and a voice like velvet and expensive chocolate coming out of the speakers in a warm blanket of awesome.
Unfortunately, like some nights at the Sunset, M. Ward was in almost total darkness -- I hammered off a few requisite shots before the drunken dude-bro set ruined it for me completely, yelling out in the perfect silence, flashing with a point & shoot. Sensitive as I am, I lost the juju after that and felt completely disconnected from the set, and headed out about halfway through. Reluctantly, I put the shots up on flickr anyway, but I'm not terribly thrilled with how it came out. Funny (not really, though) how my connection with what's going on onstage, or the lack thereof, directly and literally translates in my pictures. I can't hide it.
I suppose that everyone that goes to shows isn't there to see the show. Occupational hazard, which I will gladly deal with.
And, to cap off the deliciousness: Project Jenny, Project Jan rocked my striped knee-socks right off at Neumo's this past Saturday, opening for Pop Levi and Fujiya & Miyagi. I'll link back to the imaginary writeup as soon as it posts, but suffice it to say that Jeremy Haines is my new beat-pop freestyle Elvis. [Update: post here.] Seriously, I'd stand in long lines for these guys. They are good good good, and I'd recommend making the time to see their set if you catch them coming through your neck of the woods. Like Port O'Brien, there was a part of me that kept waiting for the bad part, and there just was none to be found. A veritable slew of goodness, and a bag of rad-ass dance moves.
Coming up... well, not a ton to plug in here. Coming up is me working on the job thing mostly, and a few blips on the radar here and there -- KMRIA and the Minus 5 will be at the Tractor this Friday, which is going to be rad as all get-out, but it's the only thing I have on a hardcore lock show-wise. There's a ton of good stuff this month that I'm sure get to and post about accordingly... but until then, it's back to scouring the internets for paid work.
Love, hand-me-downs, and extremely uncomfortable panel interviews for underpaid positions,
VIVA
Pablo Trucker had their album-y release show at the Sunset at the end of February, getting their sad bastard on in a big way with Conservative Dad. While the lighting escaped me, as the Sunset is prone to do depending on stage setup, the show was tremendous (as usual). Insert gushy verbose imaginary blogging here, heavy with love and adjective. 
[Hi, John in Ballard, quoter of many things TIG! Such a coincidence that we answered phones together.]As we were finishing up our imaginary craft-fest at Heather's tonight, I was talking to her about how and why people seem to be drawn to me, telling me I'm easy to talk to and spilling their guts practically on command. She said, "Well, you're still shiny. You haven't lived here long enough to be the way the rest of us have gotten." Me. Still shiny. Funny, I had to post up a note on my wall to remind me that Connecticut Victoria would be quite ecstatic to be spending even an hour in Seattle Victoria's shoes just a few weeks ago, and now it's creeping back to Shiny.
The pledge drive reinstated that in me last week, and I've got to say, even though I know most people despise it -- I fucking love the pledge drive. I love all of them, every time. I love the sense of community, I love the constant pleading for support that keeps everyone right-sized. I love being reaffirmed, I love sharing my love of the station and everything it means to me, and mostly I love the full frontal reconnection that the pledge drive brings with it. It's a snap back to reality, to the fact that KEXP isn't on the radio anywhere else but here, and how good we have it -- in a musical, creative, and supportive community sense. And I love how the djs get all cracked out by the end of the week, and the madness that ensues, and the cupcakes, and the friendships that get forged. Love it. Love. It.
I've started doing one-a-days, to take the pressure off of myself with my constant foray into improving at concert photography. To remember that I didn't start doing this to try to get paid for doing it, or to make a job out of it, or to beat myself up about it -- it was simply because I couldn't not carry a camera around anymore. And the more I obey the "pull over and take the picture" vibe, the better off I am for it. Just sayin'. 
Port O'Brien played with M. Ward last weekend, and the set was a blast. They were, to make a lateral comparison, a little bit Moondoggies in the group-sing arena, plus some more indie rock roots, plus a stage presence that just wouldn't quit. The dancing, the enthusiasm, the wrangling of sounds from instruments, the well-placed silent breaks for a beat in a slew of good lyric -- I kept waiting for it to get bad, and it didn't. Total sleeper sneak-up surprise set, for me at least. And M. Ward was gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous: backlit, with a window (and fireflies!) up behind him on the stage, sound so good that it might have been a recording, and a voice like velvet and expensive chocolate coming out of the speakers in a warm blanket of awesome. Unfortunately, like some nights at the Sunset, M. Ward was in almost total darkness -- I hammered off a few requisite shots before the drunken dude-bro set ruined it for me completely, yelling out in the perfect silence, flashing with a point & shoot. Sensitive as I am, I lost the juju after that and felt completely disconnected from the set, and headed out about halfway through. Reluctantly, I put the shots up on flickr anyway, but I'm not terribly thrilled with how it came out. Funny (not really, though) how my connection with what's going on onstage, or the lack thereof, directly and literally translates in my pictures. I can't hide it.
I suppose that everyone that goes to shows isn't there to see the show. Occupational hazard, which I will gladly deal with.
And, to cap off the deliciousness: Project Jenny, Project Jan rocked my striped knee-socks right off at Neumo's this past Saturday, opening for Pop Levi and Fujiya & Miyagi. I'll link back to the imaginary writeup as soon as it posts, but suffice it to say that Jeremy Haines is my new beat-pop freestyle Elvis. [Update: post here.] Seriously, I'd stand in long lines for these guys. They are good good good, and I'd recommend making the time to see their set if you catch them coming through your neck of the woods. Like Port O'Brien, there was a part of me that kept waiting for the bad part, and there just was none to be found. A veritable slew of goodness, and a bag of rad-ass dance moves.Coming up... well, not a ton to plug in here. Coming up is me working on the job thing mostly, and a few blips on the radar here and there -- KMRIA and the Minus 5 will be at the Tractor this Friday, which is going to be rad as all get-out, but it's the only thing I have on a hardcore lock show-wise. There's a ton of good stuff this month that I'm sure get to and post about accordingly... but until then, it's back to scouring the internets for paid work.
Love, hand-me-downs, and extremely uncomfortable panel interviews for underpaid positions,
VIVA
