Seriously. Not that I mind seeing photos of my two favorite lead singers ever (in the history of ever) every time I drive by the site, but you're all probably sick of them by now. So here's the rest of August & September:
First off, Frank Black Black Francis at the Triple Door. No bigs. (Obviously I'm joking. This was so good, it bordered on life-altering -- check it here and here.)
Then, I got to kick it imaginary-style at Marymoor for the Flaming Lips -- holy crap. The show these guys put on can only be described as what church would be like if people like me went to church. All love and music and leafblowers rigged up to shoot an endless supply of confetti. And a million balloons. And just all-around goodness. And Wayne. And then more music. And maybe some people in furry animal costumes. And more confetti. Which is my new favorite word, PS.
"Confetti."
Then some lovely people I work with got married, and we all drove out to the middle of nowhere to celebrate. Apparently Becky makes one hell of a cake(s). Amazing, edible sugar-flower laden, magical, kitchen-diva-esque cakes. The cake toppper kind of freaked me out, but whatever. Drop me a line if you want Becky to make you a cake of unicorn-like proportions for your next party.
I'm serious.
Heartless Bastards and the Avett Brothers blew my mind a few weeks ago. You can read all about it here.
Harvey Danger had their last show ever (ever) (for real ever) (not having another one next year -ever) at the Croc, and the place was so jam-packed full of semi-rabid fans that I couldn't get more than halfway through the room. Thus the shots from mid-floor. But Laura rocked the hell out of the earlier set and graciously posted her shots for our gawking pleasure.
And two weekends ago, ISB shut down and we all bus-tripped it to Fort Worden for my company retreat. The room pretty much looked like a jail cell that had been warmed up a bit, in reality we were staying in some revamped Army barracks. Except they didn't revamp the original One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest-style metal hospital beds. You could have shot a whole depressed -rexo/heroin addict American Apparel ad in our room, or maybe an album cover. It kind of sucked. But the rest of the place was magically pretty.
I'm off to ACL next weekend on an imaginary press pass, which will be my last trip in a series of crazy trips that fall under the justification of "I have a real job with sick time and a steady, decent paycheck." (I'll just have to make do with the bands that decide to stop in Seattle for fall tour. Poor me.) Until then, I'll be out soaking up the rest of the sun that our fair city has seen fit to bestow upon us to end the season -- I'm ready for fall, but I'm being told to go out and get it while I can. Apparently I'll be clamoring for days like today a few months from now. Still, it's weird to be drinking a pumpkin spice latte when it's 86 degrees out.
So I'll see you when it starts raining. Or something like that.
*Victoria
First off, 
Then, I got to kick it imaginary-style at Marymoor for the Flaming Lips -- holy crap. The show these guys put on can only be described as what church would be like if people like me went to church. All love and music and leafblowers rigged up to shoot an endless supply of confetti. And a million balloons. And just all-around goodness. And Wayne. And then more music. And maybe some people in furry animal costumes. And more confetti. Which is my new favorite word, PS.
"Confetti."
Then some lovely people I work with got married, and we all drove out to the middle of nowhere to celebrate. Apparently Becky makes one hell of a cake(s). Amazing, edible sugar-flower laden, magical, kitchen-diva-esque cakes. The cake toppper kind of freaked me out, but whatever. Drop me a line if you want Becky to make you a cake of unicorn-like proportions for your next party. I'm serious.
Heartless Bastards and the Avett Brothers blew my mind a few weeks ago. You can read all about it here.
Harvey Danger had their last show ever (ever) (for real ever) (not having another one next year -ever) at the Croc, and the place was so jam-packed full of semi-rabid fans that I couldn't get more than halfway through the room. Thus the shots from mid-floor. But Laura rocked the hell out of the earlier set and graciously posted her shots for our gawking pleasure.
And two weekends ago, ISB shut down and we all bus-tripped it to Fort Worden for my company retreat. The room pretty much looked like a jail cell that had been warmed up a bit, in reality we were staying in some revamped Army barracks. Except they didn't revamp the original One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest-style metal hospital beds. You could have shot a whole depressed -rexo/heroin addict American Apparel ad in our room, or maybe an album cover. It kind of sucked. But the rest of the place was magically pretty. I'm off to ACL next weekend on an imaginary press pass, which will be my last trip in a series of crazy trips that fall under the justification of "I have a real job with sick time and a steady, decent paycheck." (I'll just have to make do with the bands that decide to stop in Seattle for fall tour. Poor me.) Until then, I'll be out soaking up the rest of the sun that our fair city has seen fit to bestow upon us to end the season -- I'm ready for fall, but I'm being told to go out and get it while I can. Apparently I'll be clamoring for days like today a few months from now. Still, it's weird to be drinking a pumpkin spice latte when it's 86 degrees out.
So I'll see you when it starts raining. Or something like that.
*Victoria
