The Post-Rockist

^Javelins

What a great night! The first eve of three eves of the Rock City Fest in Detroit City, and I, Scotter, and the Whalebomb, who joined me to cover Blowout, will be reporting on stuff that people report on when they go to a music fest. Whalebomb is getting married soon, so the Rock City Festival is his last major music fest as a bachelor. Things will never be the same for him at future music fests. For example, he’ll probably have trouble getting from venue to venue once that big diamond ring is placed upon his petite finger–it’ll weigh him down just enough to miss a few seconds of an act, whereas before he might have seen and enjoyed those three extra seconds of the show. Actually, that’s probably the only thing that will actually change. Still, it’ll never be the same again!

Whalebomb: There’s just something about looking at the menu of a festival and thinking to yourself, “Crap, it’s the same stuff I’ve been seeing for the past couple festivals,” but then getting there and going, “Oh, no, there’s tons of new stuff I thought I saw, but never have.” The problem with festivals is that you look at the names of the bands and think you’ve seen them, but you’ve really only seen the names. So yeah, the menu is the same, just order something different.
(Continued)

From our infancy, The Post-Rockist has loved music festivals (see post numero uno) and the Rock City Festival in Detroit, June 12-14, shall also be loved by us, particularly in proportion to the amount with which it rocks (or pops, or sizzles, or jives).

If you’re from Detroit, you already know the information that follows–you can skip ahead to the next paragraph now. If you’re from the outlying areas of the Motor City, or if this is your first time ever on the internet, read on. Rock City is a summer music festival put on by the good folks at Detour Magazine, an e-rag based in Detroit but reaching for a national audience. A combination of national and local acts make up the bill–3 nights of non-stop music at the Majestic Theatre complex in Detroit and even a Saturday Bar-b-q at the Contemporary Arts Institute of Detroit. You should probably come.
(Continued)

To those of you reading outside of the confines of the southeast side of the fine state of Michigan, I must preface this sad tale of traveling travail with an explanation about the Detroit “metropolitan” area.

The difference between the Detroit music fan versus the Chicago/New York/San Francisco/Seattle fan is that we are one of the only major musical centers in the US that gets skipped regularly by many touring bands. Worse, the area is so spread out that often bands hit up surrounding cities like Ann Arbor, Lansing, and (gasp) Mt. Pleasant, skipping Detroit even though it makes natural sense to play the Motor City, particularly if the band is heading Toronto-ward from Chicago. I’m not saying that Ann Arbor, Lansing, and Mt. Pleasant don’t deserve shows. I am saying that the area is too spread out and spread thin for any one show to get the audience it deserves and, in the meantime, we dedicated followers of music find ourselves spouting far too many greenhouse gases into the atmosphere from our hour-long drives (of course, no decent public transpo around here either). (Continued)

Whalebomb, from an email at 1:15pm: Tired. I’m not remembering much right now due to my confused state of mind resulting from the chaotic previous four days. It’s even hard typing in complete sentences.

Scotter was asleep at 1:15pm when this email was sent, and read it at 2pm. Scotter was still up at 4am, which was actually 5am, due to Daylight “savings.” Scotter was at a Hamtramck party text messaging friends and proclaiming to all that Blowout will continue at this house tomorrow. Scotter was calling bands to play his house. Scotter didn’t want Blowout to end.

Until he awoke this morning, hungover, but somewhat rational again, albeit with a headache.

Scotter received the following text message from Whalebomb last night: “I’m at Painted Lady, drinking like it’s my birthday.”

We had fun. We’re tired. We are not looking forward to work tomorrow. You too?

Here’s what we came up with for Saturday. (Continued)

Whalebomb and Scotter continue their adventures in Detroit Rock Radness at the Metro Times Blowout…

Child Bite (K of C Main Hall), to Blair (Whiskey in the Jar), to Black Jake and the Carnies

Whalebomb: I started the night out very tiredly at The Record Graveyard. We stayed long enough for me to drink a beer then moved onto the Knights of Colombus-Main Hall. We waited till 10:00 for Child Bite to start. Then we waited till 10:10. Then we waited till 10:18. Child Bite? Oh, thanks for coming out and playing. Other than their tardiness, they were awesome. I’ve only seen them once before, which happened to be last year’s 15 minute set they had at the Knights of Colombus-Lounge. Fast paced music with hidden melodies. Why have I only seen them twice?

^{Child Bite}

We then made our way over to Whiskey in the Jar to catch Blair. Blair is amazing. And I really can never find the right words to describe him. He seems like an awesomely nice, down-to-earth guy…but I’m always intimidated by his brilliance. He’s the one person on the Blowout bill that I’d love to sit down and talk with over come coffee. He’s got to be the most talented person playing Blowout…and not necessarily the most musically talented, but everything talented

But sitting down and talking was out of the question. Whiskey in the Jar was about to asplode from the amount of people there. Everyone was talking, which upset me because I couldn’t make my way up front to appreciate Blair’s performance. I stayed in back and added to the noise by complaining about it and complaining about how I had to pee but there was no way I was going to make my way through the crowd to get to the stage/bathroom. So I left. (Continued)

Ever realize how many bars in Hamtramck proudly display myriad trophies won over the years by their bar/club-sponsored bowling, softball, and youth basketball teams? Ever notice that most of these trophies hark back to the 70s, 80s, and early 90s? It’s kind of weird. Are these simply relics of the past–a reminder of the communities that used to be so strong here and are struggling to remain in this age of internets and “www”s? Are they just silly bar bling? Is their dusty gaudiness a sign of what we youngsters are doing to our roots? Ironic trinkets? And what do they have to do with the Blowout? I think we should borrow them from the bar owners. I think the Blowout’s reward for bringing three days of solid business–probably the most they receive all year–should be one trophy every year, to be given to the act that actually plays their time slot and doesn’t go on 20 minutes late.

JK. But seriously folks, if nothing else, these trophies reveal how unique the Blowout really is. The youth and their music invade the old holes-in-the-wall of retired auto workers, laborers, and Pollacks (I am one, so I get to say that with immunity, although I am a Wyandotte Pollack, which is, I’ve been told, a different genus but still the same species) and everybody gets along just fine. It makes me want to give back, perhaps dig up old bowling trophies from my Polish Roman Catholic Union (PRCU) Youth Bowling League days and donate them to Hamtramck bars. The Belmont and Small’s don’t have any. What’s up with that Belmont?!?!?! Hey, I think we should all go back to our folks’ houses, dig up our old bowling, track and field, baseball, and Quiz Bowl trophies (I know some of you out there have Quiz Bowl trophies) and leave them on the bar of the Belmont just after last call on Saturday night. That’s a way to end a Blowout! 2:00 am. Lift a shot glass from the bar. Down it. Plant a youth-league bowling trophy on the bar. Leave. You in?

Thursday night, and Whalebomb and I made some rounds. I had my camera. He had his coy wit and stolid, unblinking stare. We had fun. Here’s the report: (Continued)

If there is one thing that sucks about working for a multi-million dollar corporate entity (among many thousand other things), it’s that you have to wait till after work to blog about the shows you saw the night before. So even though I’m posting this less than 24 hours after the events you’ll find herein, this is late by www time standards. However, Whalebomb and I will be covering, to best of our blogging abilities, as much of the four-day event as we can (please see our preview) by taking tomorrow off (or at least I will).

Blowout 2008! I think it deserves an opening essay. Whalebomb, in 200 words or less, answer the question: “What does the first night of the Blowout means to me?” Whalebomb, why don’t you stand up and read your paper to the class:

“Snapping that Wristband on last night resulted in an instant headache. It’s as if my body knows. The Wristband is a trigger for a future hangover, there’s nothing I can do about it.

Not only does the Wristband act as a four day pass for the Blowout, it also acts as a four day pass to life. No one who is wearing the Wristband for the next three days is doing any work. Sure, they may be at work, but they aren’t doing any work. They are moaning. They are thinking about coming up with a game plan to survive until 2:00 a.m. tonight and do it all again tomorrow. And the next day. The Wristband is my “Be nice to me, I gave blood” sticker. It’s the beat up face from fight club. If you see the the Wristband on someone else, you know what they’re doing, and you don’t need to say anything to them. Just be kind and keep your voice down.

Someone push the reset button.”

Ummmmmmm: You get an “A.”

Well, since we are a bit late reporting, I can first point you here, here, and here. That about does it, generally. See how great a job we’re doing already! So since everybody was at the party, how about some pictures with occasional comments. Sorry I can’t get more to you, my babys–I’m running late for Thursday night at the Blowout as I type. (Continued)