Friday
Foburg Music Festival started, for me, before 4pm on Friday, March 12. My three and a half year old computer, Sony “Bono” Vaio, crashed the day before, so my friend Meggie and I went out to Best Buy to get a new one. “I’m going to get a new camera,” she said. Though she had no luck, I’m now the proud owner of a tiny little Gateway Netbook for $358.64, courtesy of federal loans.
“Let’s go thrifting too,” Meggie demanded on the way home. So, to Bloomin’ Deals we went, where I found a gold mine of 8 cassettes, including albums by Pearl Jam, R.E.M, Jimmy Buffett, Hall & Oates, and Callaway. You wouldn’t believe this, butChanges in Latitudes is the third Buff’ album I own on cassette, and as such was the first one I listened to.
Then it was time for the festival. I heard from Matt (@EatPizza) early in the afternoon. “It’s such a beautiful day, why don’t we just go down there now and get started?”
Matt drove the two of us down to Frenchman around 4pm. After parking, we went straight to the information tent where we introduced ourselves to a very nice and polite young man named Michael, who graciously hooked Matt and I up with press clearance and VIP, which means tiny 2 dollar beers behind the barricade at Maison Upstairs, complementary pizza from Fresco, and the opportunity to get an autograph from John Michael(!), though Matt and I wouldn’t realize this until the next night.
Instead, Matt and I put out the vibe at the main bar of Maison and made friendly with Kristen, a Tulane graduate who had recently moved back to New Orleans after spending some boring time back home in Missouri (I think). Now she tends bar at Maison fulltime. “Beats a desk job,” she told me.
The plan Matt and I concocted for the evening was to hang at the bar watching the early bands, ending around 8 or 9, until we were nice and High Life’d up. Then we’d head down Frenchman and see whatever caught our fancy. One of the early shows we caught was a two man show (though usually it’s a trio) headed by Luke Winslow King, whose throwback ragtime rock n’ roll was made all the more authentic by his antique electric guitar and, more astoundingly, his impeccable dress and long, straight 1950s-era blonde hair.
Before this, when we walked up to Maison to meet Aaron LaFont, the mastermind behind Groovescapes, Matt’s eye caught a sign outside that read “TONIGHT: early, Foburg 4-9 downstairs, open mic standup 7-10 upstairs!” Comedy boner. “I’m doing it tonight dude,” Matt declared, to which I replied with my usual “Nah man you should do improv, standup’s hard, you’d be better at improv.” Nevertheless, during the set change after Winslow King, we decided to see what was going on upstairs with the open mic standup.
We were pretty surprised to find some legitimate talent there, albeit among a sea of amateurs. “I remember the MC,” I whispered to Matt. “You know that place Z’otz? I used to spend 16 hours a day there studying. And when I’d sit in the back, there’d always be this jackass there, waxing about his life in standup format to his friends, but not telling jokes, just talking like he’s on stage. It was so fucking annoying.” Seriously, we’re talking Robin Williams-off-coke-annoying. But you know what? This dude was really funny tonight hosting open mic standup at Maison.
Later on another guy got up. “I know that guy too,” I whispered. “He used to sit in the back of Z’otz and rip the most heinous farts all day fucking long.”
“Isn’t that what you do anyway,” Matt replied with a snarky grin on his face.
“Yeah, but they weren’t mine. They were his, and they were terrible! We used to call him the Gas Man (homage to Dumb and Dumber).”
But you know what? Gas Man was pretty damn funny tonight at Maison open mic comedy. Apparently the standup was completely unaffiliated with Foburg Festival, so I probably shouldn’t be giving it the time or ink, but (and I’m going to get on my soapbox for one of many moments) they should consider this for next year. By the time that dude Dane, who I’d seen years before do standup and who was hilarious, came on stage, Matt and I were looking at each other like, “This is some legit shit!”
“You know I’m still going to do it one day,” Matt whispered, “Just not tonight, because I don’t want to be one of the amateurs.”
After the early shows and standup were finished, we met up with my friend James. Since it was James’ birthday that night, he felt it was necessary to buy a shot for me and Matt. If that sounds odd, you should see how many shots James bought when it was my birthday.
We found ourselves at the Blue Nile Downstairs, where the first band we caught was the Bears of Blue River, from the Chicago area. The 6-piece band featured, among other things, a multi-instrumentalist specializing in pedal steel guitar and a female backup singer who could seriously “wail a pitch,” as someone would quoted to me outside (later on, I claimed that phrase as my own and told it to the singer myself). Bears of Blue River played a pretty legitimate style of Chicago southern that does justice to forefathers Wilco and Sonvolt. Matt, being a Chicago native, had to seriously adjust himself to conceal his enormous music boner. “I’m gonna interview them after the show,” he giddily told me during the set.
The most surprisingly awesome act of Friday night was the Happy Talk Band. Admittedly though, if you were to walk across the street to 13 and check out their jukebox, you’ll find this band on it. So they’re really less of an undiscovered treasure than a pretty well known live act that I’ve never heard of because I’m a complete novice at modern music in this city.
Matt, James and I caught these guys at Blue Nile upstairs in what appeared to be a tug-of-war between the band and the DJ. The DJ kept trying to yank the Happy Talk Band off stage because I guess the show was running a little late. At one point the lead singer yelled into the mic, “Dude, we’re going to do our whole freaking set so screw you.” In an act of revenge, the DJ turned off their microphones the minute they played their last song, though to his credit he played Prince.
Friday night’s a blur from there. After that, I either saw SAVOY, Dirty Bourbon River Show, or the Other Planets (they’re all circled on my schedule), but I have no idea which one. Matt says he saw Dirty Bourbon River Show and that they had a lead singer who looked like Corey Feldman (Haim?), so I believe him. At some point Michael from the information tent tracked us down to make sure we had some press shwag. What a nice guy!
I vaguely remember watching the Givers, and before that, running into a girl I used to hook up with, who also enjoys torturing me (“It’s your favorite nightmare!” she yelled at me when I saw her). And I remember Aaron LaFont saying of the Givers, “I don’t know if that was good, but that was definitely awesome.”
If take his word for it, while also taking into account the fact that I was in a tremendous mood that night in spite of the routine past relationship torture, I have to think the Givers were really good. Or at least awesome.
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