Jake is a die hard Velvet Underground fan. He likes the band so much that he permanently imprinted their rock and roll spirit on his body in the form of a tattoo… and that my friends is the definition of “die hard fan” right there. So it comes as no surprise that Jake chose the Colorist’s rendition of “After Hours” by the Velvet Underground for this months staff pick.
Archive for the ‘General’ Category
Recently Gene Simmons was quoted saying that Rock and Roll is dead and gone… Spud disagrees and has since made it his mission to prove to Gene and the rest of the world that Rock and Roll is very much alive and well on the road and in the hearts of our dedicated fans… In fact, you only need look to Telluride to prove Gene Simmons wrong.
So… Take a walk with Cuz in the mountains of Telluride, CO., you might learn a thing or two about the resurrection of rock and roll…
Cuz fell in love with the Telluride Colorado the moment he saw the mountains. But it wasn’t just the epic vistas and majestic hikes that won Cuz over… No, he took a particular liking to the people of Telluride, the town and the vibes that came along with it. Telluride welcomed Cuz with open arms and open hearts and in return Cuz blessed the people of telluride with his corner.
But one man in particular showed Cuz the true meaning of Telluride hospitality. One man in particular showed Cuz what it really means to live, breath and vibe the Telluride way… Ladies and gentlemen take a seat in Cuz’s Corner with Mr. Steve Gumble… for without him there would be no brews and there would most certainly be no blues.
RZA’s on the move! This time catch him walking the streets of New Orleans with his best bud Spud and the Jam in the Van crew. Fire hydrants to guitar stands…. RZA peed on everything and left his scent in the city that gave birth to Jazz!
CHECK OUT RZA’S OTHER ADVENTURE FROM SXSW: http://www.jaminthevan.com/canine-cam-the-sxsw-edition/
Spud has always had a soft spot in his heart for solo acoustic acts. Something about the courage, spirit and soul it takes to win over a crowd all by yourself gets Spud’s spider senses tingling… But Keller Williams wasn’t just any acoustic act, this guy turned his guitar into a symphony, children’s choir, and wash board simultaneously. Needless to say, Cuz was impressed….
Spud and the Jam in the Van crew just got back from New Orleans… as you can imagine it was a hell of a ride. Check out the first of many Cuz’s Corners from the city that gave birth to Jazz. First up, The London Souls. Though they’re not actually from London Spud took a particular liking to this group for their excessive amount of soul.
Cuz loves burgers and there ain’t no better place to get your burger on than Burgerama III… After two days spent amongst the burger-heads Spud himself emerged a true to the bone cruster. Watch the transformation below…..
It’s never too early to plan your holiday phestivities, so go ahead and mark Friday, December 13 down on your calendar as a night of heady good times. We’re doing our thing again at The Satellite, this time we’ve got Olin and the Moon supported by Fairbanks Music, Rainbow Jackson, and Sadie and the Blue Eyed Devils.
Set times are below, RSVP HERE.
BRING SOME CANNED FOOD NOT ONLY BECAUSE YOU CAN WIN SOME SWEET PRIZES AND GET DISCOUNT TIX IN RETURN, BUT ALSO BECAUSE IT’S A HEADY GOOD THING TO DO, YA’HEARD?
9pm – Fairbanks music
10pm – Olin & The Moon
11pm – Rainbow Jackson
Midnight – Sadie & The Blue Eyed Devils
DJ Sets from the folks at Origami Vinyl all night long.
Oh and if you buy tickets in advance and post a photo of them to Olin and the Moon’s Facebook wall they’ll hook you up with some merch, which is heady, the end…
Last day Bonnaroo blues used to hit me a bit harder I think… Now I’m usually good and ready to split. Sure I get a bit nostalgic about a week down the line when I’m sitting in an office not doing awesome stuff, but in the immediate thereafter I’m stoked on a shower and a good night’s sleep.
So rather then try and get it all in, we take Sunday chill, appreciate what we’ve seen and what we’ve done, some of us even spank off in the tent. Not naming names, but rhymes with loose-man. What can you say, it was a good week, dude had a lot of pent up enjoyment. Yes it was 100 degrees and humid, yes there were five dudes sitting outside the tent unknowing, no, I ain’t mad at that.
Our buddies the Mowglis dropped by for an afternoon session. It was their first Bonnaroo and they were loving it. They jumped right on the AK-47 tequila bottle and to my surprise jumped on some dirty cheeseburgers that I fried up in a pan that was less then sanitary. I figured The Mowglis or part of The Mowglis for vegetarians, but no, turns out The Mowglis love cheeseburgers. They love a lot of things, and they sing about that love pretty damn nicely.
We kicked it with them for a while, and of course they were stoked to chill with Spud. He had a big-ass smile on his face too, and he definitely made it out to their show later in the day and danced his ass off.
Our final session was with He’s My Brother, She’s My Sister. There are in fact a couple other parts to this band then just a brother and a sister, but there is indeed that pairing. Said sister showed up in a long dress. When she emerged from the van after dropping sweat weight during the session, she had shed the length from her dress by detaching the bottom half of the skirt. It was a good look.
They also delivered the first tap dancing percussion ever to be mic’d up in the Jam Van, so look forward to that.
Out and about on the festival grounds we got to take in some hip hop, starting with Action Bronson, AKA Bronsolini. He’s our boy Chach’s hero, and it wasn’t no way Chach was going to let us miss this show. The big guy even gave Chachy a pre-show hi-five and a post-show photo op. It was probably the best day of our boy’s life. Take in mind that the next day Chach would return to his desk as an elevator lawyer (real talk), and so touching the sweat on Bronsolini’s forearm was kind of a big deal.
We followed up Bronsolini with Australia’s own Tame Impala. This was a good time because I got to hit the band with Jam in the Van Bracelets and I also got to hit David Cross with a Jam in the Van bracelet. The music didn’t really stand out too much from any other Tame Impala show that I’ve been to. Just the Jam Van bracelet shooting, that was real.
After Tame Impala we checked out some of The National, which was another set I absolutely had not wanted to miss. So since my friends are such awesome people and totally put my happiness first, they allowed me to watch about one and a half songs before bitching incessantly that The National was boring and they wanted to go see ASVP. The National is not boring, they are awesome. Fughin, awesome. I compromised and saw 3 songs. I need new friends.
From there it was on to ASVP Rocky. We got to catch his pre-show prayer and take a picture of it even though his big security guard said “no pictures fam.” I assumed he was only referring to ASVP’s fam, so I didn’t listen to the request. Having time to reflect on the experience, show included, I’m curious as to what the ASVP Mob prays about before the show. Because during the show they jump around a lot, yell about getting turnt up, degrade women, and call “all the bad bitches up onto the stage” to twerk and get naked. I really dug all of that, but I’m not sure what God or Jesus or whomever they prayed to was going to do towards it. Seems a bit sinful. So maybe they just pray that they have a good show and leave the details for later.
Anyways, Goose Man got to sneak up on stage during the “bad bitch” sequence, and then got himself a pretty tight high five from ASVP after the show. He’s essentially in the mob now. Probably took ASVP Ferg’s spot, because his cameo was less then stellar that day.
Then it all came to an abrupt ending at Petty. My thing with Petty is that I can handle about 2-4 songs in a row. I gave this night about 6, because even though the rain was starting to come down and my body was pretty much resigning for the weekend, it was still the end, and you have to take one last breath.
So I went to sleep with rain pattering on the tent, woke up to take a piss at 4 AM and found my crew partying with Mowglis and Bonnaroo staff in a downpour, shook my head at myself for being too tired to hang, and then went back to sleep only to awake to an epic rain-soaked mess. Packing in a monsoon is not cool. Whoever made off with the brand new tents we left behind, you’re welcome.
No worries though, because it always ends with a Cracker Barrel run, a very dirty, very tired, Cracker Barrel run. The food ain’t never that good, but the waitress is always friendly, always knows you just came from Bonnaroo, and the friends you’re there with usually make it taste as good as it needs to. That’s the end. There ain’t no more. Until next year.
Mark this down as the day that I missed close to everything that I had hoped to see at Bonnaroo because we worked all friggin’ day at the van. Which is a good thing. That in itself was plenty of fun, but it did unfortunately prevent me from seeing some of my favorites. I got no Wilco, I got no Jason Isbell, I got no Calexico, I got no Passion Pit, I got no Jim James, I didn’t even get any Big K.R.I.T..
What I got was five bands at the Jam Van, which turned out to be plenty. Perhaps Stoplight Observations, Futurebirds, Andrew Duhon, Rayland Baxter, or Jonny Fritz will be household names one day, and then I’ll have the last laugh. I’ll be all like, “ha, Big K.R.I.T., who is dat?”
Roo-Friday also marked the arrival of the Perfect Hippie (aka @PerfectHippie on Twitter and Instagram, where he’s pretty viral). He showed up in a dust cloud of patchouli per usual, and brought with him gifts, like the olives that I forgot to buy for our bloody Mary’s, and a hard-drive for the camera guys, and oh yeah, a bunch of lobster tails, because we fancy, and we had very special guests coming on Saturday.
So we kicked it on the bean bag chairs for most of the afternoon/early evening, and listened to a diverse assortment of up and coming musicians shuffle in and out of the van.
There were the youthful Canadians lads of Stoplight Observations attending their first Bonnaroo. They rolled down with their rad tour manager Zach, who had a rad wife. She was rad because when Goose Man whistled at her and said “is that your wife? Damn girl, you are beautiful!,” she did not slap him.
Futurebirds were some chill bros from Athens. They put a dent in our whiskey bottle for sure and had a nice little chat with Spud.
Andrew Duhon and Rayland Baxter each showed up with just a guitar and themselves and they both kind of gave people chills in the hot ass Tennessee summer. The van has a way of really accentuating solo performances and these were a couple of the best we’ve ever had.
Last of the day was Jonny Fritz, who used to be Jonny Corndog, and played the van back at SXSW a couple years back. Mr. Fritz and band-mates put the dagger into the bottle of whiskey, and sweated out a couple of songs even though their front-man was dealing with the effects of a skateboarding accident. He was neck-braced up and his vocals were struggling, so he decided to lay on the ground for his performance. I thought it came off pretty cool. However, based on the time I spent driving Mr. Frtiz back to his I campsite I would have to surmise that he didn’t really feel the same way about the performance or the temperature in the van. Note to self, but another AC unit.
Five bands was enough for the day, and we had liquor that wasn’t whiskey, so I made it away from the van in time to see The Wu Tang Clan mail in a set of muddled yelling. Maybe I was too far back, maybe I was just tired, maybe I’m right and they really did sugh, but whatever, they’re the Wu Tang Clan, and there were most likely a lot of blunts that needed to be smoked before dusk. So I ain’t mad at them, ain’t mad, not one bit. It was still fun. You’re still standing in a field in the middle of nowhere watching the Wu Tang Clan with like twenty-five thousand smiling people. That counts for something, and 25K is a reasonable amount of people to stand in a field with.
Following Wu Tang I would learn that one hundred thousand is not a reasonable amount of people to stand in a field with.
Holy hell Sir Paul, holy hell… That was the most people I think I’ve ever seen at The What stage, and I’ve been to that stage a lot of times, seen a lot of good performances, a lot of big names. Apparently people dig The Beatles.
Mr. McCartney played all the hits, everybody knew the words, everyone was dancing, I want to remember it better, I want to say more then he played “Hey Jude” and “Blackbird,” and all of the songs that you’d want, but it was so damn crowded, and we were having so much fun at the back of that crowd, that I kind of lost it all in a fuzz. I don’t mind that. Music is life’s soundtrack. So it seems that when a genuine, real live Beatle is playing the catalogue, well, the movie gets pretty entertaining.
To close out the night I went to go check out the first of the weekend’s Superjams. It starred the man whom I named my dog after, The RZA, and also featured DJ Jazzy Jeff, Lettuce, Solange, and School Boy Q. The human RZA is a much more talented rapper then the canine RZA. It was a damn good show and a funky way to end the day. So I ended it there, no late late sets, I was so tired that my Bonnaroo tent was comfortable. If you’ve never been, just know that that is saying something…