If you’re anything like the people that the author of the press release that I just read thinks exist, then you often find yourself screaming this phrase at the sky: “when is the next great death blues band going to emerge from an ashen grave and take the world by force!?” Or you’re like me and you just said “what the fuck is death blues?”
"I thought we were goth RnB"
Pittsburgh is a misleading city; all at once it boasts turn of the century castle-like structures, bustling streets, and enough bridges to keep architecture fetishists titillated for days. At the same time people yell at you on the street about wearing pizza and swimming through paintings. I wasn’t sure how the food would be, and I didn’t know if it would even be food. Would we be eating mashed potatoes laced with PCP or do the citizens of Pittsburgh exist on vitamin pills from a future that we haven’t caught up to yet? SPOILER ALERT: They eat food.
I’ve got some great news everyone, Metallica is putting together their own summer festival! I should have told you to have a seat because you’ve passed out from shock. Wake up! Seriously. I’m worried about you, you pass out a lot. Maybe you need to get your blood flowing. Might I suggest Metallica’s Orion Festival?
Here we are in cloudy Richmond, Virginia. After a ten and a half hour trek from Louisville that began at seven in the morning and ended around five thirty, during which I existed on little more than satsumas and coffee, I’m ready to dive into an Olympic sized swimming pool filled with nothing but loaves of bread. You guys–I’m hungry. The venue that we’re playing at is called The Camel and it’s located in what I think is downtown Richmond. It’s on Broad Street, which probably tells you nothing if you’re from anywhere that isn’t Richmond (so mostly everyone). Downtown Richmond sways back and forth from being a grimy, downtrodden area filled with dive bars and chicken joints to clean suburban sprawl filled with Starbucks and Chick-fil-A’s. Thank goodness we’re playing in one of those dive bars.
When I was nineteen and playing on small tours around Texas and a few other states in the southwestern area (the first three people that call in with the correct states win a free trip to Six Flags!), eating at Taco Bell for every meal was absolutely suitable, but seven years later the sodium and tastelessness of bean burritos with no onions and extra red sauce has started to get to me. I want to eat like an adult. Personally, I feel like I already eat like a normal human being at home (the opposite of whatever Lil Wayne eats), so why shouldn’t I eat that way when I’m on the road? It’s rare that you get a home cooked meal when you’re driving ten hours to play to thirty people in Richmond, Virginia (more on that later), and it’s even more rare that you get to make a meal for yourself. At this very moment I would murder any hipster that you pointed out to me as long as you promised me the use of your kitchen to make stir fry or even just some breakfast tacos. Enough with the hypotheticals and on to the actuals.
Grandparents. What do you buy for those for whom death is quickly approaching? They’re not like you and me who’ll be living forever. While their bones may be slowly deteriorating, their taste is not. The new album from Yo-Yo Ma, Stuart Duncan, Edgar Meyer, and Chris Thile The Goat Rodeo Sessions is the perfect gift (other than a sterling, yet possibly destructive iPad) for your aging grandparents. The Goat Rodeo Sessions is steeped in the rich history of Americana, country, bluegrass, and folk of Duncan, Meyer, and Thile, combined with Yo-Yo Ma’s classical sensibility. It’s sure to bring a smile to their colorless faces, the complete opposite of the Lovecraftian terror that is the iPad. After all, The Goat Rodeo Sessions won’t steal your beloved Nana or Pawpaw’s credit card information or hasten their journey to the afterlife.
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