So… Here’s The THING : A Review Of THING Festival Year One [Part 2 of 2]
A detailed account of every THING that we experienced during the second day of the new “multidisciplinary event for music and arts enthusiasts” in Port Townsend
We took our sweet time pulling things together on Sunday morning. Once we were finally headed into town, it was already lunch time, so we made sure to pack some food into our guts to save on both time and money once we were inside the festival. At this point, I’d like to give props to the woman who made my sandwich at the Port Townsend Safeway. I’ve never seen someone care more about my sandwich than I did, even meticulously focusing on the even distribution of ingredients. A hat tip to you kind lady.
THING is it’s own…. thing… so, it might be pointless to try and compare it to Adam Zacks‘s previous work with Sasquatch! Music Festival. Then again, I feel like making these distinctions might be the most relevant thing that we could do with this review, for that exact reason. THING is a very different animal and, for those trying to determine whether or not they want to attend it, these contrasts and comparisons could possibly be the deciding factors.
Although it might be lower on the priority list for others, one element that stood out for me was how little effort it took to get to town, and, even more importantly, what it felt like once we got there. We stayed in the official campground, which was surprisingly easy to leave from and return to. We weren’t surrounded by urban chaos or any traffic, but we never once felt like we were trapped in the middle of nowhere. While in the town itself, you might not ever know that there was a major music festival going on down the street. As someone who would once do full runs on Phish tour in my former life, I know what a town can look like once an influx of outsiders sweeps through like a swarm of locusts. This was not that. I might be assuming too much, but the townsfolk didn’t even seem like they hated us being there. In fact, I’d even wager that a number of people even enjoyed having the festival in their city, which is definitely not always the case.
The greatest thing that Sasquatch! had going for it was also the worst: The Gorge Amphitheatre, which is owned and operated by the demons at Live Nation Entertainment. It would be difficult to argue that the venue doesn’t offer a breathtakingly beautiful backdrop and Zacks has spoken about the benefit of throwing his previous festival in such a “turn key” location, where the entire space didn’t need to be built out, since the main structures for an event were already in place. That being said, he’s also been forthright about the restrictions of working in a venue that was plastered with corporate logos and required them to operate within a framework that included ridiculously expensive concessions stands. Arguably, one of the worst aspects of Sasquatch! was the no re-entry policy that they eventually remedied, but while in place, required concert goers to remain within the parameters of the amphitheatre in the blazing Eastern Washington heat for the entirety of the day. Unable to return to their cars or camps, attendees were forced to empty their pockets for necessities like bottled water, not to mention greasy mini pizzas and astronomically priced Coors tall cans. This meant that people often chose to miss acts early in the day, simply because they wouldn’t be able to leave again once they stepped through those gates to see them. They were also put in no-win situations where they had to decide on such things as whether or not to go back and grab warmer clothing when the sun went down, aware they wouldn’t be able to return.
With THING, the pre-existing structure of Fort Worden means that there are actual restrooms on the venue grounds, as well as in the camp ground — the latter of which also includes deluxe individual shower stalls. Vinyl signage has been replaced with hand painted wooden signs and we were never bombarded with overwhelming corporate logos. There are sponsors for the event, but they are minimal, and even then, the majority of them are local companies like Silver City Brewery (Bremerton/Silverdale), Fremont Brewing, and Jones Soda co. Although the beer was of higher quality and the cups looked as if they might have been slightly larger than normal, the fact that they were still selling for $10 a pop is one thing that could be regulated, in my opinion. There was also a stand that had the balls to sell $9 slices of pizza, but the rest of the vendors seemed fairly reasonable. I wound up going for a much better deal, purchasing fish tacos for the exact same price. The guys running that trailer told me that they were locals from Port Angeles. Even the price gouging pizza joint was a smaller business, as opposed to something like Dominoes. The best part is that, if you look on the THING website, they actually welcome you to bring your own food inside, along with non-glass reusable water bottles to take advantage of the filling stations on site.
NƏXʷSƛ̕AY̕ƏM̕
I don’t miss the scorching heat of the Gorge. The August whether was warm yet breezy when we got to Sudan Archives at the Littlefield Green stage. We’d slacked just a bit too long and missed what I expect was a lovely set by Portland‘s Black Belt Eagle Scout, over at the Parade Grounds. If we hadn’t already seen her earlier in the month, this would have been more of a disappointment. As a “radical indigenous queer feminist,” as well as a Northwest resident, her inclusion felt important here. Katherine Paul (BBES) is a Native and Fort Worden was built on Native land. The recognition of that fact is something that I respect Zacks and STG for emphasizing. The very bottom of the info page on the THING website features the following statement
WORDS FROM THE S’KLALLAM PEOPLE
ACKNOWLEDGEMENT OF LAND IN PORT TOWNSENDTHE LAND THAT WE KNOW AS PORT TOWNSEND WAS ONCE A THRIVING VILLAGE OF THE NƏXʷSƛ̕AY̕ƏM̕ (S’KLALLAM) PEOPLE. THE NAME OF THE S’KLALLAM VILLAGE WAS CALLED QATÁY (KUH-TAI), WHICH WAS A WORD THAT ORIGINATED FROM THE CHIMACUM TRIBE, AND WAS ADOPTED BY THE S’KLALLAM. THERE ARE S’KLALLAM CITIZENS THAT STILL REFERENCE PORT TOWNSEND BY ITS ORIGINAL NAME TO THIS DAY. THE S’KLALLAM’S INFAMOUS CHIEF, ČIČMƏHÁN (CHETZEMOKA) WAS BORN IN QATÁY IN 1808. WE TAKE A MOMENT TO ACKNOWLEDGE THE LAND THAT WE HOLD EVENTS ON ONCE BELONGED TO THE S’KLALLAM PEOPLE. THIS ACKNOWLEDGEMENT IS A RESPECT TO THE S’KLALLAM PEOPLE AND THEIR HISTORY.
Just before we arrived the day before, there was an opening ceremony by the S’Klallam people, during which they requested that no photographs be taken by media. I’m sure that more could always be done, but even the fact that some acknowledgment was paid to such issues displays a certain level of consideration and thought that was put into this event, beyond how many people could be crammed into a given space, stuffed full of sodium, and fleeced for their paychecks. In their first year, the organizers appear as if they really tried to do things the right way, whenever possible.
Sudan Archives
Born Brittney Parks, Sudan Archives is another performer that we caught earlier in the month at Pickathon Music Festival. A solo artist, Parks is completely self taught, learning how to play violin by ear at an early age, before later discovering the unique approach of fiddle players from North Africa that inspire her. From there, she began incorporating her instrument into electronic music, producing and performing all of her material by herself. At Pickathon, she looked incredibly regal wrapped in red billowing fabric and sporting a single matching arm-length glove, silver jewelry, and sparkling sequined makeup, with her braids wrapped into an impeccable bun on top of her head. At THING, she looked much different wearing what appeared to be all-black leather bondage gear with black feathered angel wings. She had on a bustier with woven leather straps that were interconnected by metal rings and hanging from her waist like a skirt. Her platform boots were imposing and massive, tightened by multiple straps up the length of her shins. Her long braids swung loose with the lower third dyed a bright olive green. The one thing that her costumes at both festivals had in common is the fact that her backside was, more or less, fully exposed by her thong.
From her stage presence to her bold choice in attire, Sudan brings a certain level of strength and empowerment with her performances. One song that keeps jumping out at me is “Wake Up,” with the lyrics, “I’ve got too much swag. That’s why I ain’t got no friends. I’m too confident.” Another artist delivering that line might come across more tongue-in-cheek, if not completely off-putting and delusional, but coming from Parks, it feels completely authentic and believable. The way that she carries herself, alone, is a message to anyone that is waiting for someone else to validate them, or give them the permission and/or assistance to make their goals a reality. She’s up there triggering samples and layering beats with some crack fiddle work, blending R&B, electronica, hip hop, and African fiddle music into something entirely her own. Even more impressive is the fact that she’s doing it all on her own. The only thing missing is more eyes and ears on her work, but that’s going to come with time. Especially, if she keeps popping up at festivals like this and killing it.
Ryley Walker
Ryley Walker performed in Wheeler Theater, the same building where we saw the mentalist the night before. Entering the stage with his shirt off, he explained that he only removed it, because it was hot, and not because he believes that he looks good that way. Walker is a prolific musician with solid guitar chops that came up in the experimental indie scene of Chicago. He’s an interesting figure that can dive into intricate finger work with lush pastoral psych folk soundscapes a la Robbie Basho, or enter into more tripped out jazz territory. His jokey demeanor might fool you, but he clearly takes his craft very seriously. A song like “The Halfwit In Me” is a prime example of his sly lyrical ability being injected into a jazz-tinged folk tune that later unfurls into some interesting passage ways. He’s an improviser at heart and, when he played that track live, he really unzipped his bag of tricks and left everything tumbling out and clanging on the floor.
Encouraging us to hit up the merch booth for one of his CDs, he noted “Christmas is right around the corner and you have a spun out(?) uncle that likes this type of music.” At another point, he commented about how he had a capo on his 4th fret, saying, “Capo on 4. Something’s about to go down.” He then briefly summoned up his best emo impression, sing-whining the phrase, “Last summerrrr!” which prompted a little kid to cry out in disapproval. When he later tuned to Drop D, he supplied us with a similar warning. “Drop D. Something is about to go down. Drop D means ‘knock before entering Jerry! You’re not my real dad.”
The most fascinating part of his set was the jam they went into during the song “The Roundabout.” This is when his drummer took his own opportunity to shine, doing things like disassembling his hi-hat, rubbing the cymbals with the back ends of his sticks and gentling raising one up to the microphone to catch the feedback. When the show was over, one young man — I’m old now, so I say things like “young man” — went up to shake Walker‘s hand, respectfully letting him know that his performance just blew his mind. It wasn’t the biggest or most talked about set of the weekend, hidden away inside of an art deco theatre, but I like the idea that, on some level, it might very well have affected the way that one person sees and interacts with music for the rest of their lives.
TANK & THE BANGAS
Hailing from New Orleans, Tank & The Bangas meld a lot of different influences into what they do. Incorporating drums, bass, keys, moog, flute, sax, backing vocals, and more, they weave it all into a pastiche that can shift on a dime from a shimmering upbeat groove to a soothing gospel croon and back again. Vocalist, Tarriona “Tank” Ball, has a background as a slam poet and you can hear it at times in her cadence, which often feels as if everything is so natural and off the cuff that she’s unloading it all as a stream of conscience exercise. But what’s amazing about Tank is how she can hop from that into some incredibly soulful singing right into a more hip hop style delivery and then juggle her words almost like she’s scatting, sometimes all within the same verse. The songs move forward, pause, stagger, and progress forward, while Ball hops from the notes like Q-Bert scaling a neon cubic pyramid to an of Montreal album. She may even trade fragments of a line with a backing vocalist, as if the words were a hot potato playing double dutch with the instrumentation. To watch their Tiny Desk concert from a few years ago, it’s hard not to wonder how the group could even practice these tunes, let alone compose them in the first place. There’s a lot happening with this group musically. They’ve honed their own sound and structures in a fashion that works for them, sounds flawless, and keeps them in a unique space that no one else but themselves truly occupies.
As far as their live capabilities, Tank & The Bangas are a perfect festival act. Their stage show has grown to fit the larger platform and they bring an incredibly positive energy. Before the show began, large inflatable clouds were placed near the monitors and, when Bag entered from the side stage with a massive smile across her face, her entire outfit was lime green and yellow, save for her hot pink sneakers. With her sculptural skirt, feathered boas, draped tulling, and makeshift antennae, she looked like some sort of mystical lightning bug hovering out on the stage. The color scheme is a reference to their latest album, The Green Balloon, and the band definitely had a few of those out there decorating the stage. Tank & The Bangas bring with them the spirit of the Big Easy, serving up a stage show that feels like a giant parade. The only downside to what they do is that they are so visually overwhelming and visceral that some of the nuance to what they craft is likely lost on a stage this size, and that’s where their talents truly lie; the instrumentation and composition. That being said, this is the type of act to win new fans over in a setting like this. Once they have them hooked, those people can develop that appreciation for the rest of what they do via their stereos and headphones.
Calexico And Iron & Wine
I know that Calexico And Iron & Wine was a big draw for a lot of people, both because they are considered somewhat of a super group/collaboration, and because I continued to see people rocking their t-shirts throughout the weekend. I don’t have much experience with Calexico, but I’ve heard the name for years. Iron & Wine I’m a bit more familiar with, especially the early stuff that feels like you should be eating french onion soup to it while the leaves change color and fall to the hard autumn prairies bitten by frost. What these folksy folks do together is fine, but what they do isn’t really something that grabbed me. When you’re singing about how your dad built a mansion on a mountain… I don’t know. It simply isn’t a world that I connect to. My dad took a bullet in the arm while my sister was visiting him at his home in Watts during the ’84 Summer Olympics. I didn’t make it through the entire set, so maybe they have a song about that, too, but until I hear otherwise, I’m going to assume that most of their material is about as far away from that sort of content as possible.
Sam Beam had a glass of white wine next to him on a stool, letting us all know that his moniker wasn’t just for show. I’ve thought about it and tried to understand how, on paper, they seem to enter similar territory as other projects that I do enjoy, yet they still left me cold when I saw them play. Maybe I just needed to be more familiar with the material — that can make a major difference when you’re dealing with songs as laid back and easy going as these. In the end, I just had this feeling that the sound that they’d been pumping out for the first 15 minutes wasn’t going to change a great deal over the next 45. After waiting a little longer, it only felt like they were reinforcing that impression. This is the sound they make and, without having any familiarity with the individual tracks, it was pretty much going to be this sound consistently until the plug was pulled.
Earlier today, it hit me, though. This is a band that drinks wine on stage. Maybe it just feels more like the Bill Callahans and Bonnie Prince Billys of the music world are ones that I could drink a beer to. Even a shitty one. This is wine sipping acoustic music — private reserve IPA music, at best — and, at the heart of it, wine sipping acoustic music simply isn’t my bag.
One thing of note is that the bassist for the group was Soul Coughing‘s Sebastian Steinberg, who has been backing Beam in Iron & Wine, more recently. He was also playing with John C Reilly back when I saw him at Sasquatch! in 2012, and later appeared on Fiona Apple‘s album The Idler Wheel… and its supporting tour. I guess what I’m saying is that I’ve enjoyed him as an individual in other contexts, for whatever that’s worth.
The Tobolowsky Files
When I felt like I got the gist of what was to come, I left the Parade Grounds for The Tobolowsky Files back at the McCurdy Pavillion. If the name Stephen Tobolowsky isn’t familiar to you, there’s still a good chance that his face will be. He’s a character actor, the kind where you can’t quite place exactly where you know him from until, ultimately, settling on the conclusion that he must be in everything. Perhaps, most recognizable would be something like his role as the insurance salesman, “Needle Nose Ned” Ryerson, from Groundhog Day, or his work on shows like Californication, Heroes, or Silicon Valley. Something that less people are aware of is the fact that he’s also a writer who helped pen the screenplay to one of my all time favorite movies, True Stories, alongside David Byrne.
The Tobolowsky Files is a monthly podcast where the actor/writer relays different experiences and pieces of knowledge that he’s collected over his decades of work in the entertainment industry. My first exposure to him doing something like this came from a YouTube video where he describes playing a villain in the Keenan Ivory Wayans / Steven Seagal film, The Glimmer Man. More specifically, he spoke about the hurdle of performing opposite Seagal who refused to follow the script, after having a spiritual revelation and determining that the central character that he played in this action film was going to be a pacifist. For his appearance at THING, Toblolowsky was offering similar anecdotes to the crowd, speaking on the trials that he faced as a writer and/or actor, and what he learned from it all. I’d love to see him do this in a different setting on a different day rather than having to cram it in between other acts that we were headed to see, but I appreciate that the festival got him to be there. This is the type of thing that really deserves your undivided attention and I was divided all over the place. I’m sure that it also helps when you don’t have your kid with you while Tobolowsky is telling stories about filming awkward sex scenes. I felt bad slipping out before his lecture was over, but Khruangbin was scheduled to take the stage any minute.
Over Them Mountains
After meeting them the night before, it seemed like everywhere we looked we’d see Jon Gries (Uncle Rico) and John Heder (Napoleon Dynamite). Earlier in the day, they waved as they walked past us with Gries asking, “Where’s the kid?” I pointed over to where Ronin was speaking with some people who had been camping next to us. This time they also had Efren Ramirez (Pedro Sanchez) with them, and he was limping. We spoke to a handful of people who went to Pedro’s Dance Party the night before and they all told us that Ramirez actually has really great DJ skills. We even heard that he was scratching records. Unfortunately, he got so caught up in everything during his set that he tried to do the splits and wound up pulling something. As for why he was hobbling around in a pirate hat, that I can’t tell you.
We crossed paths with them again, shortly before Khruangbin was about to go on, and it was nice to see that, somewhere along the line, Ramirez was able to procure himself a nice walking stick to help with his mobility issues. This part is a bit of a blur, but one way or another, John Gries wound up coming over to chat it up with Ronin, egging my son on to do some Napoleon Dynamite quotes. “Throw one at me!” he prompted. Then he’d offer one of his own, asking something like, “How about this one?” and following up with, “How much you wanna make a bet I can throw a football over them mountains?” or “So, uh… how does that dealio sound to you?” It was really cool of Gries to come over like that. The casual vibe of the whole festival helped create a relaxed environment where these guys must have felt comfortable strolling around rather than quarantining themselves to some back stage area. I asked ol’ Rico if he’d ever seen Khruangbin before and he responded that he’d only watched footage of them on YouTube, but he thought they were great. I still hadn’t interacted with Efren Ramirez, but as I was heading to the photo pit, he noticed my camera and asked me to take a photo of all 3 of the actors flanked by a couple of guys wearing wigs, who, I’m assuming, they just met themselves. No Problem.
Khruangbin
I was genuinely more excited about other people getting the chance to see Khruangbin than I was to see them myself. I’ve caught the Houston trio live 3 times in less than a year, and 2 of those shows were just earlier this month. It’s not that they don’t have a great live show, because they do. The problem is that they do pretty much the same finely tuned performance every single time, so once you’ve seen it… you’ve seen it. Their creative process isn’t conducive with writing songs on the road and, with the growing attention on them, the band is smart to just keep extending their touring for the time being. Two days earlier, they were joined on stage by Trey Anastasio, during their set at the Lockn Festival in Arrington, Va. A few weeks before that, we saw them perform on back-to-back days at Pickathon. In October, they will be part of one of the most ridiculous lineups that I’ve ever seen assembled, when they play the Desert Daze festival in Moreno Beach, CA. Right now, they’re just booking gigs and scooping up new fans as they tear across the planet.
The music of Khruangbin is an amalgamation of a number of different influences, including everything from Thai funk, Eastern psych, and Vietnamese opera to Congolese music, dub, hip hop, and more. I’ve said it before, but it’s almost as if they are the live band incarnation of a crate digging producer. Interestingly enough, Jon Gries was the first person over the weekend who told me that they had even watched footage of the band before showing up. Everyone else was intrigued by the description they’d read, but had no prior knowledge of them. These three are really good at what they do and their appeal is far reaching, so it’s pretty much a given that they created some believers that night. As a photographer, seeing the show again does have its benefits, though, because I could anticipate when they were going to do their little cheers with their cups, or tap their bottles with drumsticks, or do the little shtick where bassist, Laura Lee, answers a bright green rotary phone on a stand mid-song, etc.
Parade Grounds
We left early to head over to see Jeff Tweedy and noticed a free mini-golf set up on the lawn for Ro to play on. Earlier in the day, he rode a little carousel that we were completely oblivious to the day before. There’s no telling what else they had available that we simply overlooked or didn’t come across. I left him and his mom putting on the green, so I could get to the stage before the show started and, on my way, I strolled through The Night Market to take a quick glance at what they had going on. One booth was selling records. Uh oh. Bad news. I knew that I’d better keep moving.
Jeff Tweedy
Driving up to the festival, we passed by a farm stand in the town of Chilacum. The large reader board out front read “JEFF TWEEDY PLZ STOP HERE / AWESOME FREE CANTALOUPE 4 U!” I pulled over to take a picture of it. I even posted it on our Instagram account. Apparently, a ton of other people did the exact same thing. Local Seattle station, KEXP was hosting a number of on-air performances somewhere on the grounds, and a couple of people that I know who work with them told me that, during their interview, Tweedy revealed that he did in fact make it to Chilacum Corner Farmstand. I guess he was bombarded with people sending him photos of that sign.
One of the first things that the Wilco frontman said when he took the stage was that he was “so full of melon” that he didn’t know if he could sing. This brought an enthusiastic uproar from the crowd, who was either already aware of the reference, or being filled in on the details from people around them. THING‘s IG would, ultimately, repost images from the farmstand’s account that showed the songwriter holding one such melon in front of the sign. He was smiling.
Back when I was a barista, one of my favorite customers was a woman who used to work in the music industry — I believe that it may have been for Rykodisc — and she did not look favorably upon Jeff. She spoke of the time period when they were filming the documentary I Am Trying To Break Your Heart, and described conversations that she had with Wilco‘s drummer and the filmmaker, which pretty much painted the songwriter as an egotistical dick, who “was trying to be Bob Dylan.” I mention this now, because the Jeff Tweedy that I’ve witnessed doing solo shows in recent years — the one that’s holding that melon on instagram — comes across incredibly personable, welcoming, and humorous when he’s on stage. When I mentioned this conflict in character to a fellow camper that morning, he was able to offer an explanation: Tweedy was a dick, he said. That is to say, he used to be a lot worse. Supposedly, this is all chronicled in his memoir how he was struggling with depression and an addiction to painkillers, which not only landed him in treatment for substance abuse and mental health, but found him, temporarily, living in a halfway house. Since I’ve owned that book for nearly a year, already, maybe it would help if I finally opened it. What I can say is that, from the limited passages that I have read elsewhere, there’s a good deal of awareness in this candid autobiography with not much sugar coating on his struggles. The Jeff Tweedy that we’re seeing today appears to be someone making a conscious effort to live in a more respectful and positive way. If nothing else, he’s putting out a different image, one where he seems humbled and grateful to be where he his, appreciative for his fans, and determined to leave them with a positive impression of their time with him.
As promised, he played songs from his recent pair of EPs, Warm and Warmer, but mixed in just as many old Wilco tunes like “Hummingbird,” “I Am Trying To Break Your Heart,” “You And I,” and, even the song “An Empty Corner,” from the band’s latest full length, Ode To Joy. Since it was Jeff‘s birthday, the crowd even turned the tables and sang to him. There was a moment where he sarcastically stated, “At least I don’t suck at whistling like Andrew Bird.” Adding, “That’s right, shots fired.” We’d experienced a display of Andrew‘s unreal whistling ability the day before, when he performed as part of John C Reilly & Friends. Tweedy followed up his fake insult by claiming, “I’d be that good too, if I went to Julliard for whistling.” One of my favorite moments of his set was a cover of “Plateau” by Meat Puppets. When he hit the part of the song that goes “some say it was Greenland, some say Mexico” it was an incredibly topical political reference made indirectly, as if the Kirkwood brothers stumbled upon some sort of accidental clairvoyance when they wrote that song 35 years ago.
My THING app gave me the heads up that Violent Femmes would be taking the stage at LIttlefield Green in 14 minutes (of all the random time intervals for an alert), so we started to move in that direction. The wifi/data was really spotty all weekend, but that app was working like a charm. As we were shuffling toward the gate, Tweedy began playing the song “Jesus Etc,” which stopped us in our tracks, and gently pulled us backward. Kim and I both realized that this would be a perfect moment to embrace being old people with a kid. Weighted down with backpacks, we decided to slow dance to the music in the open field, at Ronin‘s dismay. He more than likely vomited an overpriced pepperoni slice all over himself in disgust. Neither of us would have known. We weren’t paying attention.
Violent Femmes
The last time that I saw Violent Femmes, they were performing as an acoustic trio with drummer, John Sparrow going to town on a Webber-style charcoal grill with a pair of brushes. He still had the grill and the brushes mixed into his set up, but the group had filled out their numbers with their horn section known as Horns Of Dillema. Leading HoD is Blaise Garza, who, according to Wikipedia, is a former child actor that appeared in various commercials and had a role on the soap opera Another World, before becoming an accomplished saxophonist and musical historian. He’s been working with the Femmes for 15 years now and his inclusion of what I’m assuming — with no real woodwind expertise, mind you — was a massive low-end contrabass sax was a big hit with the crowd.
Violent Femmes are legends that are still at the top of their game and sound as great as ever. They played the last real musical set of the festival and the crowd definitely came out for it. Seeing the sheer volume of fans that they are able to generate, it would be easy to claim that they’ve come a long way since Gordon Gano and Brian Ritchie were busking for money in early 1980s Milwaukee, but I’m not so sure that’s really the case, at least in regards to how they approach and perform their music. I mean, their drummer is playing BBQ equipment, for crissakes.
It’s pretty amazing to consider how many classics they crammed onto that one eponymous debut in 1983. The endurance of these songs can be measured by the reaction of the audience when they perform them. And they definitely performed them. “Blister In The Sun.” “Kiss Off.” “Please Do Not Go.” “Add It Up.” “Gone Daddy Gone.” They all made the setlist. With new albums in recent years, it gave the band even more options to pull from, helping them fill out their extra beefy hour-and-a-half festival time slot.
Luminarium
We needed to feed the kid, so we listened from the food cart area that overlooked the concert lawn, before splitting early to go hit up the luminarium. Friends who had visited it had been recommending the bizarre looking inflatable structure all weekend and, since this was our last chance to check it out, we needed to take it. Created by Architects Of Air in Nottingham, a completely new luminarium with a different design is crafted every year. According to the website, it takes 4 to 6 months to assemble each one with a workforce of 6 people. Exactly what designer Alan Parkinson has invented might be difficult to describe, but when you enter it, they make it absolutely clear that what it is NOT is a bouncy house. Comprised of numerous interconnected dome-shaped “rooms” illuminated like an electrified box of bold Crayolas, the luminarium is a maze of passageways and dead ends with random illuminated mandalas on the ceiling. It’s essentially a magnificent piece of installation art. The largest room in the structure featured the most intricate design and there were clusters of people lying around on the floor and/or in spherical cubbies like some sort of decompression opium den. I’d imagine that it would be easy to lose your entire day zoned out in this space if your mind was in the (in)appropriate state for it. As for us, we had somewhere else to be.
The problem with the luminarium is that it can quickly become a disorienting labyrinth. When it’s all said and done, it’s a circular structure that requires you to leave through the same doorway that you enter in through. Once the rooms begin to split off into multiple different directions — or, at the very least, appear to — it can make it difficult to figure out exactly which way you need to go next. The truth is that the real problem was the time constraint and the fact that we couldn’t really afford to casually stroll through and explore it as intended. The plan was to simply dip in there really quick, just to see what the hype was all about, and then make a b-line to Napoleon Dynamite Live — now that Ronin was best pals with Uncle Rico, missing that one wasn’t an option. Once I realized that the luminarium was larger than I expected, that it would take longer to get out of than I’d anticipated, and that I wasn’t exactly sure which way I was facing, I started feeling a bit restless. Or rather, I panicked about the idea of panicking. “Don’t trip, man.” I told myself. “The minute you start bugging out, that’s when you die in here among these new age weekend festy ravers in this psychedelic future dome world like a straight to video Kubrick knockoff.” I looked to Kim. “We need to get out of here if we’re going to make it on time.” I didn’t bother to hide the stress in my voice. She calmly pointed the way out. Sure, I’m an idiot. But I’m an idiot whose body isn’t rotting in the nook of some inflatable genie lamp surrounded by baked teens in Tevas and Vibram 5-fingers.
Napoleon Dynamite Live
Napoleon Dynamite Live consisted of a film screening followed by a Q&A. It looked like the kid was going to be up way too late again. At least my unfortunate streak of always sitting right in front of the loudest people in the room remained intact. The woman behind us continued to try and shush her obnoxious boyfriend, until… she didn’t, and they began slur quoting the film together. They wound up stumbling out before the mid point, but I wasn’t too bothered by it, anyway. Ronin was so into the whole experience that it was kind of amazing to watch. He laughed and clapped with the crowd. He whoooooooooped like a baby Juggalo when the occasion called for it. Surprisingly enough, he wasn’t the only kid in attendance and they all seemed to make it through to the end. This is probably the latest he’s ever stayed awake, but hey… it’s summer. It’s a special event. We were watching a movie that he’d already seen that week in a decommissioned balloon hangar built in the roaring 20s. Get off my back.
The Q&A was hosted by Luke Burbank, host of the Too Beautiful To Live podcast, which also had a live taping on the THING schedule. Jon (Napolen), Jon (Rico), and Efren (Pedro) were all seated on stage together. As with most of these things, it was primarily filled with uninspired questions from the audience. Ro couldn’t decide on one to ask, so we just watched and enjoyed the banter. I later discovered that the one question he was considering asking was if they used “a real van” in the film. Terrible question? Maybe. But it’s so fucking bizarre, that I almost wish he would have gotten up to ask it. And honestly, that wasn’t the worst inquiry being thrown their way. [Props to Adam Noble Bass for asking something of value and bringing up the short-lived animated program].
There was a few really interesting things that we discovered during their appearance that made it worth it. One is that both Jon Heder and Efren Ramirez have identical twin brothers. As they put it, this means that there could be another alternate Napoleon and Pedro teamed up, out there on the loose somewhere, as they spoke. Another is that, because he was aware that Gries used to play baseball, director, Jared Hess asked the Uncle Rico actor to be the one to actually throw the steak at Napoleon‘s face for the scene where he hits him on the bike. After a few unsuccessful attempts at lobbing it up to lead him into it, Hess told him that they couldn’t waste any more tape. Gries‘s response was that he could hit him, but he was really going to have to throw it. He was also going to need a bigger piece of meet. The actors promise that, if you rewatch that scene, there are a couple things you might notice. The first is that the meat that hits Napoleon is about 4 times the size of the one that Rico is shown grabbing from the plate. The second is that, although he was supposed to remain in the scene much longer, Ramirez bolts from the frame almost immediately, because he couldn’t contain his laughter. Heder claims that, when the steak struck him, it broke his glasses and gave him a bloody nose. They also claim that when it connected to his face it was so loud that they didn’t need to add any additional sound effects to the scene. That wasn’t the only time Heder was injured during a “stunt,” either. As he informed us, his ride on the “honeymoon stallion” during the post credits scene concluded with him being thrown from the horse and getting the wind knocked out of him. The most impressive bit of information, though, was when he spoke about the infamous dance scene toward the end of the movie. From what they told us, there was very little ad-libbing, if any, during the making of the film; Hess really did write everything out just as we hear it. The one exception was when it came to the dance scene. All that it said for that part in the script was “Napoleon dances amazingly.” There was no real choreography; that was all Heder. After kicking everyone out of the room except for the director and cinematographer, he went into the zone and pulled that whole thing out on the spot.
As they left, Ro ran up to the stage to say goodbye. Heading back to the campsite, he described how he “shook Pedro’s hand” in as much detail as possible for a split second encounter.
So… here’s the THING
The story goes that, when Adam Zacks got the green light from his superior to throw Sasquatch!, all that he’d really worked out by that point was the name for the festival. It was going to be a music festival. It was going to be called Sasquatch! That was pretty much it. At a glance, with the name THING, it might appear as though he didn’t even have that much together, this time around. The truth is that the idea for this THING was also sparked by the name first, with the major difference being that this name truly represented a much larger concept. THING works not as a title slapped on as an afterthought, but because of how much forethought it actually reflects. For those who have no prior awareness about what inspired the name that inspired the festival, THING remains effective in the way that it represents all the potential of what it could be. This THING could be any THING. It’s not that it can’t be defined, because there’s nothing being offered, but rather, because it could encompass so much, whether that means live music and inflatable interactive art, or podcasts and mentalists. How do you describe something that doesn’t quite exist anywhere else? The sad part of the whole thing is that “things” similar to this have existed before, but these days, they are just too few and far between.
This weekend Seattle Center is hosting the annual Bumbershoot Music & Arts Festival and the sad reality is that I don’t know a single person who is even remotely interested in attending it. I haven’t been to it myself in, at least, a good 5 years and I’m someone that could get in for free with access to a media room full of mediocre coconut water and carrot sticks. When Bumbershoot first began, it was free for the community. When I was coming up in the 90s, I think it was only about $7 a day and we still snuck in. Back then, there was a ton of variety, too. I remember catching Maceo Parker doing a Q&A there, and the time when I ran into Todd Barry in the center of a massive Wilco crowd at Memorial Colliseum stays with me to this day. I’ll never forget that uneasy look on the stand-up comedian’s face triggered by meeting some kid who actually knew who he was two decades ago, while trapped in a sea of strangers with no way to get away from me. This year, I was able to make Todd Barry look slightly uncomfortable in a much sparser Jeff Tweedy solo acoustic crowd, simply by doing nothing more than saying his name and the use of some creepy side eye. We’ve all grown so much since our younger days. This year, I also received an email from Goldstar offering “discount” Bumbershoot tickets at the low low price of ONLY $109 A DAY!!! Now consider that THING costs less than that and there isn’t a ton of overcrowding and overpricing, or a one-note tween-centric lineup, or frustrated people, or any of that other bullshit that comes with labor day weekend in the middle of a congested city.
In one interview that I read (and need to find the link to), Zacks explained that the idea behind the name THING came to him during his daughter’s graduation, after a speaker talked about the European concept of “Ting,” which is the root word for “thing,” and refers to a gathering of the tribes to resolve feuds. On the festival’s website — and on, at least, one sign that I saw over the weekend — it describes “Ting” as a medieval term meaning “an assembly of free people to reduce feuds and avoid social disorder.” So, more than being just another corporate music fest, there is definitely a clear purpose and ethos behind this THING. Or, if nothing else, there’s an effort being made to promote it within a greater more meaningful context.
I didn’t take the picture above, but I’m really grateful that THING staff photographer, Jim Bennett had the awareness to. I believe that the kid on the left side is named Finn. I never saw him in person, but I did meet his mother at a coffee shop the day after the festival. They live right down the street from Fort Worden and she was still wearing her vendor’s bracelet. She told us about how her son wants a laptop and was self motivated enough to make and sell these sun catchers at the festival to earn some money to put toward one. This was an idea and endeavor that he put together entirely on his own and it proved fairly successful. From my understanding, he was already able to collect 2/3 of what he needs by vending there. As a local, she seemed fairly positive about having THING establish itself in Port Townsend. As an outsider intruding in that space, I was happy and relieved to hear this.
Finn‘s mother is also a Native. Because of this, we wound up delving into the painful yet necessary conversation that two “ethnic” people happy to find someone else who might finally understand the nuanced and institutionalized racism that they deal with on a non-stop basis can find themselves entering into — cautiously, at first, and then unloading everything they’ve been carrying around with them. I’m not going to take it upon myself to discuss any of the stories that she told me, in this piece, or speak for her on any substantial level, but if she ever sees this, I want her to know that I’m glad that I met her. I will, however, share an experience of my own with you that I brought up in our conversation that day.
My son’s school is near a QFC grocery store that has a Starbucks connected to it. One day, last year, I’d forgotten about an after school activity that he was enrolled in, so I showed up too early to pick him up. I was a barista for years, so I don’t really fuck with Starbucks in general, but I went in there to sit down and kill some time, while I waited. Apparently, this location is heavily patronized by old white people who don’t much care for folks as stunningly handsome as myself. The man behind me in line was mean mugging me the whole time that I was ordering my tea and pumpkin bread, or whatever bullshit I picked up that day. They have one of those set ups with the large community tables throughout, so I surveyed the joint and settled on a seat next to an elderly woman who was knitting. She spoke with me for a moment until that dick who’d been standing behind me let her know that she needed to come sit over with him and the rest of the pasty grimacing old fucks in that depressing coffee dungeon. I wondered if they would have treated me any differently had Ronin been in there with me. I wondered if they would have smiled. Then again, I’ve been with Ro when people have felt entitled enough to step right in front of us in line to assert some passive aggressive dominance. I always point it out to him. I’m also aware that, as a stay-at-home dad, people far too often assume that it must be “my weekend” whenever they see us out together.
But… I digress — and digress and digress, if you haven’t caught on by now. The point here is that we all live very different lives in very different worlds. Whereas one person might walk through their day and have everyone smile at them, some of us move through a world that shoots daggers. Imagine how differently something like that has the potential to color your entire experience and perception of the world around you. Imagine how it could affect the way that you moved throughout it, what you believed in, or even what you felt and believed about yourself.
I recently wrote an entire article about Pickathon that spoke on how important positive gatherings like that festival and this one can be for a community, both on micro and macro levels, whether it be a community that you’re creating, or a community that’s already established. I like believing that THING is something that benefited the Port Townsend community, or, at the very least, didn’t fuck it up too much. If you live out there and have experienced any negative effects from it, though, please let these people know what they could be doing better. I actually feel that they’d be responsive and, based on this first year, I’d like to see it continue. And, of course, I’m not completely oblivious to the fact that it’s a great marketing move to sell a festival like this as something intended for community and positivity rather than just for making sweet moolah with Uncle Rico, but I’ve come to trust the Seattle Theatre Group over the years, and results are results.
In case you haven’t caught on, the world is fucked, bruh. Shit’s out of wack. I just discovered that, the day before we left to drive out to THING, somebody was shot in the head and left for dead on the side of the road just 3 blocks away from our home. Having an event to go to each year that’s designed for people to smile at you — or, tell you how sweet your Spiderman shirt is — all day, which peddles in cultural, artistic, and emotional growth is not a bad THING in these trying times. If anything, one could argue that it’s becoming a necessity.
We had a great time and it was cool checking out the town once the festival was over. We ran into KEXP DJ Kevin Cole at Quimper Sound records and then ate at a Mexican restaurant across the street that was both reasonably priced and delicious. But then it was time to head back to the regular world. At least we’d have a scenic ride on our way to get there.
As we drove past the Chilacum Corner Farmstand, we glanced back at the large reader board out front. It had been updated with a brand new message.
