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dingey's picture

Submitted by dingey on Mon, 02/19/2007 - 8:59pm.

Greetings from North Carolina and the brave new world of travelling with a parent in tow.  This has severely impacted the degree of licentious and louche behavior that normally goes along with vacation.  In other words, there ain't gonna be no beer with dinner or nekkid prancing on this vacation. *sigh*  Other than that, i got no complaints.

Dusty and I did run away to Asheville last night, where we DRANK BEER and ate awesome fusiony mexican grub at the Lucky Otter and got to see AKRON/FAMILY play.  It was a totally amazing show.  They made me cry.  I mean that in a good way.  They are part of that Brooklyn scene that spawned Animal Collective, and like that group, there's some real gut-level emotional stuff that takes place with their music and their performance.  They've got that thing that I've prattled on and on about at length in other threads—my theory of how the Golden Mean concept of attempting to chart the recipe for acheiving transcendent beauty never really worked in the visual arts, but exists in music—how certain music really does have the power to physiologically change your emotional state and frame of mind and state of being. Like "Surf's Up."  I cry eVERY TIME I hear that, even though i totally know what's coming.  There's a certain progression where i automatically weep.  ANYWAY.

The Akrons totally had Dusters and i in the palm of their hand until the very very end of the show, in which they grabbed people from the audience and had them come up and help jam….the process continuing until there were at least 30 people up there with them and it devolved into too much of a hippie/granola/cartoony singalong that got to be too much for the two of us after a while.  "I guess i gotta remember that this is a generation that didn't have the luxury of growing up on 'Electric Company'," said Dusty as the roomful of hipster kids sang along to a nursery rhymy song about circle-triangle-square.  The kids were really digging on it though, so we left 'em to their fun.  

I totally appreciate the spirit of the gesture of making the audience part of the show, but there really, really, is a difference between musicians and drunk kids in terms of the cohesiveness of sound. 
Granted, I'm a total freak for weird folk collective yelling/drumming/singing from other cultures, but i also think that untrained musicianship from a culture where you grow up taking part is different from untrained musician-ship that began when you took your first hit of acid and stumbled into a drum circle and decided you were a novice shaman.

We both agreed, though, that despite the last bit not really being up our alley, it was, otherwise, a freakjing amazing show.  I don't even know how to decribe the group's sound or dynamic or whatever but, yes, they made me cry.  They write beautiful folky songs that can veer off into really unexpected directions.  They're kinda folky, kinda prog, kinda psychedelic, kinda…I don't know what, but they're really really awesome.  I kept wishing that Tree and Nate were there to see it.  You pretty-song writing boys.  I also think that Akron/Family would make Cheese-Whiz pee(ters) his pants!
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dingey's picture

Why

Submitted by dingey on Wed, 02/21/2007 - 10:01pm.
Why does our car do something weird EVERY TIME we go on vacation? There is a weird hot smell emanating from our rear wheelwells, even though there are no brake warning sounds (yes, toyota has built-in sensors that tell you when your pads are worn—they make a terrifying vibrating sound, as we found out a few vacations ago). What th’?! i suspect we’ll be renewing our acquaintance with the friendly folks at the local Thrifty muffler and Brake here in town. They really ARE nice. We were offered coffee, homemade chili, and/or a “beeskit” from Duvall’s last time we had to go there. One of the mechanic’s moms runs the front desk. She RULES. Oh, hell. MEDIUM’s on. More later.
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so anyway....

Submitted by dingey on Thu, 02/22/2007 - 9:38pm.
Four new brake pads. Chicken butt. I left Dusty and Jeannie at the house to keep sorting through stuff and carted the car to Thrifty. This exciting automotive project enabled me to have a conversation with a hillbilly mechanic whose truly, astoundingly thick appalachian accent was furthered by the absence of several front teeth. Nice dude, but we spent quite a bit of time saying, “What, now?” to each other. It makes me really happy that there are pockets of genuine regionalism that haven’t been destroyed yet. I am totally serious. Big Red (as his breast patch read) was awesome and didn’t seem to hold it against me that I was a forking yankee. As Ma didn’t seem to be working today, I was the only woman in the place. This caused some awkwardness and sudden conversational braking to take place amid the constant stream of mechanics and gearheads. Nevertheless, these are some CHATTY dudes. One older fellow who was wearing a full Dickies outfit and seemed to be dressed for mechanic-ing turned out, in reality, to just be a retired gearhead who likes to hang around the garage being a backseat mechanic, talked to me for about half an hour. He has a cabin in Ontanogan, and was excited that I knew where that was. We talked about michigan, north carolina, why some dogs are shy and some aren’t, what makes a hamburger good, growing tomatos in buckets, how much winter stinks, and how pretty Lake Superior is, and more that i can’t even recall. Backseat mechanic dude even scooped Big Red with the diagnosis, rushing in from the garage to tell me “He’s got ‘em off—it’s your brake pads! They worn down to nothin’, hon!” Then in comes Big Red: “Y’allkerminjessintarm.” “How’s that?” “I say you come just in time. They all grooved down to nothin’.” There was also an old dude named Bud who was getting his car worked on, who talked to me at length about trucking versus disability. he’ll take trucking any day. Disability ain’t RIGHT. Neither are his ex-wife and smoking laws. It wasn’t until I overheard Bud and Big Red carrying on a private conversation in which I seriously could not understand a word that I realized that all these dudes had been taking great pains to be friendly and speak more yankee to me. The hill dialect is seriously, seriously, a world apart from your standard southern drawl. I even saw a PBS special about it a few years ago. jebus. I’m such a yankee. Lots of sorting through/packing of familial items has been achieved. Also, Dusty and i made it back to Asheville yesterday and watched “VOLVER” at the art theater. Dammit! It’s GREAT. Oh, Almodovar. I can’t even talk to youse guys about it, because to say much would give too much away. Suffice to say, it’s hilarious, tragic, and full of insanely gorgeous imagery and shots.
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down south

Submitted by m0nz on Fri, 02/23/2007 - 8:50am.

Y’all make it to Asheville more than I do!  Have you gone to the Chinese restaurant on the top of the hill?  Near the park?  mmmm noodles. 

Volver is coming to Columbia next week.  I hope to see it. 

Mechanics here are nothing compared to people that work in bar-b-q restaurants.  Holy smokes, you can’t understand a word they say.  "yalllwantsumcollardszwiddat?"   The whole yankee thing is overplayed, some people harbor serious resentment, but those are people you wouldn’t want to spend time with anyway.  You know the difference between a yankee and a dammn yankee?  damm yankees stay. 

Speaking of mecahnics, I miss Kirk over by the Corner Bar. 

 

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