Re: Setlist / show review thread

Thanks for everything Nathan!
Can someone please post a live version of Rattler?

Re: Setlist / show review thread

Rattler is AWESOME! I loved it almost immediately on the CD but really nice hearing it live for sure.

Re: Setlist / show review thread

MHOW Pics

I have 2 more pics from NYC.

The EHX is the Synth 9...which I need now
Then back to front there’s 3 Earthquaker pedals. Dispatch Master, Grand Orbiter and Hoof Reaper with eska caps

Love the new Benson rig too

Re: Setlist / show review thread

marqueemoon wrote:

MHOW Pics Love the new Benson rig too

So, it looks like a Chimera head with matching 2x12 cab and a Tall Bird tube reverb unit. For just $4k you can order yourself up a Malkmus special direct from benson!

Re: Setlist / show review thread

setyabacksetyabacksetya wrote:
marqueemoon wrote:

MHOW Pics Love the new Benson rig too

So, it looks like a Chimera head with matching 2x12 cab and a Tall Bird tube reverb unit. For just $4k you can order yourself up a Malkmus special direct from benson!

Yep, that's definitely what it is... which is weird, because I'm not sure where the reverb came into play. He's running at least two pedals with time/echo type effects, and using them pretty heavily. But I don't recall him stomping on the bypass switch that runs to the reverb unit?

- Nathan

181 (edited by mayflower 2018-06-25 19:00:30)

Re: Setlist / show review thread

http://bt.etree.org/details.php?id=599982
http://bt.etree.org/details.php?id=599980

Louisville show + Louisville radio WFPK

182 (edited by fattyma4 2018-06-26 17:21:32)

Re: Setlist / show review thread

namenamename wrote:
nguideau wrote:

More photos from Cincy, including a good one for my fellow gearheads: https://photos.app.goo.gl/MzmnNLsu782P9Cov9

Notice the shot of Steve's pedals. I had mentioned earlier in this thread that in Detroit he seemed to be having a lot of trouble with pedal settings. Well, he showed up this time with the one pedal that was giving him all the grief with two water bottle tops cut off and taped over two of the switches. smile

The tech that was helping out most of the tour was not there for Cincy, so Steve was out setting up his own gear. I was waiting right there, so I made a joke about how it looks like he's got an E-collar for his pedal... he chucked and said something about how yeah, he'd been mashing the wrong switches since Chicago and needed to figure something out.

A few more thoughts I didn't share in my other post...

Freeze the Saints was Steve and Mike only, I shot a pic of that. Jake played bass on Box Elder, and as you can see from the pictures, he had a fucking blast. At one point he and Mike walked to the middle of the stage and struck a pretty legit arena rock pose, but I was too busy enjoying it to fuck with my phone and get a picture. smile I feel kinda bad that in all these pics someone is standing in front of Jo, so I never got a full band shot. The stage in Cincy was really high, so from where I was I could either look up and watch Steve or look way over and watch Mike.

Maybe it is just me, but I've seen them play Houston twice now, and I get the feeling that is one of Jake's favorite Jicks songs. Seems like he grins extra big the whole song, and gets really amped up to play it. I had mentioned in my earlier post that Steve seemed to take a while to get his fingers warmed up... and it was pretty late into the set, but he finally clicked on real good for Refute and was just perfectly shredding on the intro and before Jo's verse.

Baltimore... really good, really glad to hear it live finally. It was a track I have always wanted to hear live, but never got to. Matt, I don't know if you remember this, or were there early enough... but back in... 2008? 2009? when they played Bottom Lounge in Chicago, I got into town way before the show. The Bottom Lounge has like a bar + sandwiches + etc. out front in a separate room from where the shows are, so I parked there and had a few soda pops and ate. While I was doing that, you could hear the Jicks doing sound check, and they played the instrumental jam part of Baltimore. It sounded epic even muffled through the walls, haha.

Excellent dude. What do you think that purple EHX is then?

Nathan -

WeezerWes and I sat at the bar, pretty much, next to you, that night at The Bottom Lounge! 2009, I believe.
We just didn't know whom each other were, yet. But, didn't we meet that night? I remember that I posted that I would be wearing a Boston Red Sox hat, for Board Members to identify us. Hahahaha!

Admmittedly, I don't recall what songs were soundchecked, but we were at that bar, drinking beers, freaking out about the new material that we were hearing. That was DEFINITELY my all time favorite show, EVER. It was such a special situation, to have them play almost ALL of R.E.T., in it's entirety, at some random show that I happened to go to. Not to mention, that was when Wes and I met. So, I drove to Chicago for the show, met some random dude from the board, and stayed the night at his place! We planned it all, of course, and we've done it both there, and at my place in Detroit, since then, multiple times. But, that was most certainly one special night. For all of us!


(By the way, I can't believe we missed each other at The Magic Stick, on the 8th!?)

now, they're gonna burn me....

Re: Setlist / show review thread

Matt -- yeah that show was so good! I couldn't remember if you were there by soundcheck because I remember I got in super early.

Yeah man, sorry I missed you at the Stick! I was right at the stage in front of Steve, best seat in the house. They did a nice job turning it back into a rock club, and the sound is maybe better than I remember it being (and even like 15 years ago when it was kind of a weird hang-out for emo kids, it always had pretty damn good sound).

- Nathan

Re: Setlist / show review thread

I should start writing about my Jickscation so I won't forget so much.

I will say this: If I'da know how pissed off my husband woulda been when I got home I woulda tacked on that Louisville night and thought nothing of it. If Imma get in trouble anyway, you know, I might as well get in trouble all the way. More likely I'da also done Philly cause that night looked so kick ass!

But at any rate, off I went, on a trip I couldn't a used more if I tried; a trip to DC, NC, GA, & TN. And the sparkle on the hard of every day's end was a Jicks show, save the day in between DC & NC. And the hot.

So, DC. I drove up early that day so I could smoke pot and museum it up, which I did both. I felt like an old hand after having navigating the zaniness that was the Caps brigade just the week earlier when I was also vacationing there. Man, that story is all about my bad sense of direction and my faith in humankind and crazy fans. I'll save that for another time. 

Let's just say I got my get on and then at some point got to my hotel (stellar parking karma of course) and then later hit the show. I took a cab over because of that heat and was early enough to stand around looking at stuff and found myself kinda warming up, I felt my body needed opening, needed work. I came to understand why the next morning, and more so the next day, but for now just understand that I felt myself tight but hungering.

I wanted to dance. I wanted the show. I hungered.

Texted Jesus Christ to say to "say hi" if you see me and then had this one chick ask me if it was safe to walk back to a place in this neighborhood. All I could offer was intuition and on that score advised that likely walking near isn't so bad but be alert.

Then I saw Jesus H C and we chatted a bit, I think we talked about the Lithics either then or between sets. I thought they were maybe a little repetitive in style/tone/sound but I had immediately liked their movement on stage (esp the bass player). Jesus said that after a few more listens I might think differently and he's so right — I massively dig them big sparkler size now! BIG! Do we have a thread on them on here? That's needed. I got their cd — up with Lithics!

Jesus split to go back further and I stayed sort of mid way back on the Mike & Jake side of things. 

The notable things to me were that it's been a long time since I've been out to a show especially that early. (I did see the Decembrists in April but that was an anomaly too. I danced full out in an 18th century costume, stay and all. So that's different.)

The Black Cat really filled up (was sold out).

When folks came in more and more and it filled up I noticed this one couple near me, a girl who looked like the girl from Romeo Void and some guy with her, they were touchy feely together and in the groove for something perched. Then this other couple came around, this really tall bulky guy, wide, with a C-curved shaped body but tall (like 6'5" or something). He had a petite girlfriend and they were also PDA Central but they had a look both hungry and open, scanning to play awake.

But there was one buzzkill there — were you there for that part Jesus? — where the bulky guy was like, happily and confidently like, to his girlfriend and hearing distance, "Nobody here came for anything but Pavement."

That was a gut!

(I love Pavement.)

But I decided to be forgiving and forget it.

I developed a new saying. "Stephen Malkmus, ye never knew him."

In the end I had a really good time dancing near to these couples because they were all into it,  but I had to hush the one couple. I told you that earlier, how I did that so sweetly. I I thought then that silver hair and a sweet smile are good for something.

I can't remember much banter and I didn't even get to hear much because of talkers. But I do recall Steve saying something about how he didn't like Father's Day, that he's not big on holidays, and he doesn't like Easter either, and he's not religious.

In all honesty I think probably a fair number of guys in the audience were dads and a good many got to come out as a "special treat" Father's Day gift type thing, to themselves, or you know, their family's supported it. I thought that was sweet and I could relate kind of being a home-escapee myself that night.

I thought Steve seemed a bit on the hooch to start but it kind of wasn't too over the top and he was on it all. I felt as I always have seeing them — they kind of have a crystal energy together, it's really beautiful.

I got to tell Joanna the next day that, that she sparkled hard and that she was a goddess, which she is with her totally grounded centering at the heart of the band. But she plays, as in playfulness, and thrash, too. It's just all well held in flowing ease.

Maybe do you guys make fun of Jake with comments that the drumming is so easy? I know that was a running gag with Westie. But he pounds the skins, man, and with the bass it's all there. Jake's energy too, it's just so bright with a pepper of impish.

Mike, who I got to see best in Athens, I got to see them all best in Athens, Mike is 150% #sparklehard and then some. His joy in playing his daring his movement movement — Mike's a sprakplug to that sparkle!

What did they play? I should edit this and add a setlist. I danced but I was bummed that I forgot to bring my serious brace. I brought my casual brace.

I loved every second the band was on. Why do nights end?

I wasn't sure how to get back to my hotel but I walked. I'm a big wuss and walking was scary for me. It was maybe 12-15 blocks. I took pics.

My good parking karma came with a caveat: out by 7am. Since I wanted to see my bestie in Richmond, #RVA, I just decided to take off at that 7am alarm and go — but seriously, my car was near to the door and that made it all quite easy.

But I did have a surprise with that morning, a surprise to define the rest of the trip.

Re: Setlist / show review thread

Kate, a cliffhanger?!?! C'mon!

- Nathan

186 (edited by kate h 2018-06-28 06:25:21)

Re: Setlist / show review thread

nguideau wrote:

Kate, a cliffhanger?!?! C'mon!

Ha ha! Yes, it is, but not a particularly compelling one for others. I’d hate to excite any real anticipation. I just was being so verbose that I got tired and had to wrap it up. Will write some more later today.

I did forget that in DC I didn’t get any dinner (that wasn’t why I was “hungry,” that was all about the show). I just ate an avocado that I brought that I squeezed lemon juice onto and salted. Might’a been the best meal of my trip.

And I forgot one other thing I heard, it was so hard for me to hear any banter, but at the end when they were leaving the stage Steve called out to his cousin, it sounded like he said, “hey my cousin Revi, come to the stage door.”

187 (edited by kate h 2018-06-28 12:00:31)

Re: Setlist / show review thread

Okay, so, that cliffhanger.

Well, you see, I didn't really write as strongly and specifically as I could have about how much my body hurt when I got to the Black Cat in DC for that Jicks show. I mean I worked with it and essentially totally did a body warm up before and during Lithics (all but bending over and hanging, well, I actually did do that once enough people got there that it wouldn't look like I was showing off my butt, like once the crowd was tight), but seriously everything about my body hurt like hell.

I was trying to assess if maybe it was because of the drive up, three hours, but then that just freaked me out given how much driving I was going to do on this trip. And like I mentioned, I forgot to bring my super firm knee brace, and so I was really worried that I'd hurt myself worse by dancing that night. It already felt really fragile. But in the end, at DC, I just danced as best as I could, not really being able to help myself and all when the Jicks play! Plus those folks around me in the dance pod made it all groove.

By the time I got back from walking to my hotel my legs and back were in screaming pain (I don't ever take any painkillers and really this was kind of an unexpected pervasive pain.) I went to bed and didn't necessarily sleep well, like as in super released sleep, so that added to the bothersomeness of it all.

Okay, so here's the potentially TMI part.

I'm writing this only cuz it's the truth and because in this tell-all era where the "feelings" and "perspectives" and "experiences" of everybody are supposed to open a conduit into deeper understanding of humanity with sympathy and compassion and what have you, I figure the perspective of a 51-year-old broke-down-body lady ought to count for a little insight at least.

AND, since most everyone here is either a woman, or married to one, or has a girlfriend, or sisters, or has a mother, or daughters, well, let's just get really into the female sex for a moment. It's the deeper strand than just the overdue revolt of #metoo.

Even our pal Stephen Malkmus touched on this theme in his music, in Old to Begin:

Searching for latent cause
Blame it on menopause
Or perhaps stress and strain
Credit cards, lumbar pain
But I've seen your double dares
Everything extraordinaire
I know the things you do are gonna come back
.

Okay, so menopause, alright? Ladies, it's gonna happen to you. Guys, your wives are gonna go through it. Think of this as a little prep course, might come in handy some day.

The textbook definition of menopause is 12 consecutive months of the absence of menses, that is, no periods. Okay, I said it. We're talking about menstruation here. But it has to be the 12 months or if you miss a few and it comes on again, you start counting again from zero. Lovely method.

Once you start going through peri-menopause, which is when menopause is kicking in if you will, and you get all the glorious symptoms of that, weight gain, maybe even more moodiness than you had with PMS — oh joy — and trouble sleeping, cold and hot night sweats, hot flashes, forgetfulness, maybe a changed sex drive, and allegedly this is when we get dried up and pruny skin and hair, then you're in "the change!"

If you guys knew what it was like to be a chick, man. All this after we've already spent like 35 years bleeding monthly which, I'm not claiming is all a curse. I guess I actually liked it.

Menstruation is a cyclical purge, it's all hooked up with the moon, with tides, with dream states, with womanly intuition, with "becoming a woman" as a kind of meaningful moment, of fertility, all the mystery of woman.

Yes, menstruation has its dark side. But let's get one thing straight, just because we can be full throttle bitches during our moon time, or weepy beyond all reason, doesn't mean you men get to say that. That's an open secret. We can say shit's happening because we're on the rag. You can't. Sorry. Trust me, it's a no-win proposition for you on any front so concede that one with your ladies and move on. It's like the worst mansplaining of all. Verboten.

Okay, so that said, over the past couple of years I've had all of those little peri-menopausal symptoms and on occasion had like 2 months with no period. Maybe as many as three one time. But up until that Monday morning I had now been six months with no period. Why my body decided to kick on like Niles Crane's glockenspiel during this trip I'll never know (unless it can be blamed on the Mars retrograde that hit on the summer solstice, which would make some sense, revisiting, rewinding, re re re everything and all that).

The thing is, when you don't get periods, even if it is a kind of mystical earthy aspect of womanhood in its own way, when you don't get it, yeah, it's a freaking relief. You don't think about it. Liberation!

So I was like, "WTF?" It had been six months period free. WTF?!

Here's more TMI. I've never been a heavy bleeder. I fell more in to the short periods, a few days, relatively scant flow. But when I woke up on Monday I experienced a new and awe-inspiring form of this cyclic purging. Like the steroid version. 'Nuff said.

As I mentioned, I lit out for Richmond, Va that morning to rendezvous with my best friend Liz at this Jewish deli I love there called Perly's. (Actually, that was the one other really good meal besides my avocado. Hmmm, borscht!)

It was SO fudging hot out but luckily I was ahead of the curve on the morning traffic and got outta town pretty swiftly. But the thing is with a period, I mean, everyone is different, but for me, my lower back just becomes this locked up mass that feels like an iron plate, all flexibility lost, burning pain.

And worse than that, all the blood feels like it's draining out of my thighs while also, oddly, seeming to touch every unknown nerve throughout my entire leg, ball joint, pelvic region, and spine. It is not pleasant. Especially driving  because I want to be twisting that mess out in some way or at the least vegging out like a lump. Trust me, you can sympathize more with the lady in your life just by thinking about all these pervasive, insistent, and unforgiving sensations she goes through once a month and then how she'll go through "the change" one day.

Okay, this will come back later that night.

So I went to Richmond and picked up some Rescue Remedy (don't know how I forgot to pack that, I'm totes addicted to it, a "spiritual medicine" in the tradition of psychic-mystic Rudolf Steiner that I rely on to navigate the realms I travel to because of the overwhelming power of my lucid dream states and my interest in the soul-based evolution that such states force on me.) I was going to need that stuff for this trip for sure.

Perly's was awesome and actually I had initially asked Liz to accompany me on the trip because Thelma and Louise or whatever, but because she's kind of in a rough place right now, like kinda seeing the dark cloud about everything, I just couldn't let that in to this one whisper of a time, just six short days of my life that were meant to be all about sparkling hard. So I reneged my invitation. That wasn't necessarily cool but Liz's default position on all get togethers when she backs out, which is way too often to be fair, is "I'm gonna have to lame out." So I pulled an, "I'm gonna have to lame out" on her which was kind of the check mate that would block any further negotiations on the topic. This was a week before the trip. Perly's was the compromise.

In the end I did spend an hour in the car after Perly's with her trying to buck her up. I wish I could wave a magic wand and help her be happier. I really love her, she's one of the world's most amazingly deep persons who has an uncanniness in her ability to see the deep folkloric connections between things. I love that. But the other side is wild paranoia and conspiratorial everything. The logic gap (beyond the paranormal witnessing that I can share) is too much in some of her intensities and the level of negativity she can cling to hurts my soul to watch. Sometimes we need spiritual armor. I wanted this trip to be mine.

So on I went to North Carolina, driving too fast, listening to loud music, singing out loud, and just feeling so unencumbered by anything except my burning circulatory system and the gripped cramping hold on my body. Otherwise it was awesome!

I arrived at my airbnb at, I dunno, mid afternoon. Sadly, what was photographed as so cute turned out to be a pit. Only time that's ever happened to me w/ airbnb. Plus, the day was so outrageously hot and the airbnb owners hadn't bothered to turn on the window ac units in anticipation of my arrival. Bad form! It was an oven in there!

So I'm sitting in this obscure airbnb right next to the AC unit, hoping desperately to get cool, I've got three box fans and two ac units going which together seemed to be doing nothing on the temp front but were kicking ass at making a VERY LOUD wind tunnel out of this little dive. If I so much as moved three feet from the AC I was sweating my non-balls off and feeling like I was a luggage packer at an airport. Finally I decided to email the host and said you're going to have to refund me, listed the particulars, and told her I was splitting, that this was totally unacceptable.

That sucked, pain in the ass, and it was FUCKING HOT OUT!

I hoped I could get booked into the hotel right next to Cat's Cradle where I had stayed four years ago when the Jicksters rocked on another temp-extreme night, (it snowed and iced for that March show). Luckily I could get a room though all that was left was a "handicapped suite." Fitting for how I felt but it turns out that all that means is that it comes with a doorbell. What the fudge? If you're handicapped is it easier to respond to a doorbell than a doorknock? That I never learned.

I was so hot and bothered by this point, and not in the good way, that I just chilled out with my pal Mike Wolfe from American Pickers and read bits from the I Ching.

Later I went to get some bibimbap from a Korean place in Carrboro that turned out to just be okay, fine but not stellar and the atmosphere was non existent. But I didn't have much of an appetite because that reanimated menstrual hell was doing something that it often does — wreaking havoc on my stomach, my digestion, the whole shebang. Bad times.

So after that I just went back to my hotel though I would've preferred walking around if my body wasn't on fire and the temp on fire, too. So a bit more TV, a bit more reading about Helen DeWitt and Philip Roth, and then I was off to bed.

Only I couldn't sleep.

Not only could I not sleep, but I actually felt paralyzed, like there was an invisible hand holding me, inside me, gripping every last musculature throughout my body. I lay like that for a good long while, longer than I should have, waiting and hoping for sleep to come. Then finally I couldn't stand it anymore and got up to do some stretching that kind of morphed into what my yoga teacher Ketul might've called raja yoga, not in the actual textbook definition of that, but kind of like yoga as meditation in motion, and also, to be frank, kind of as an intentionally opened wellspring of therapy.

I don't necessarily revel in the notion that I made loud noises and weird chants and cried because I'm just like the next person, I don't want my hotel neighbors to be irked (imagine if I had to endure their barking dog?) and just being in that setting can have a certain depressing effect on the urge to go full throttle, a tamping down effect. But I had to let it flow and let it be and fight this stiff-handed menstrual revisitation with everything within me.

So I did. That's what I did that night for a good long while and then, even though I was nauseous and dizzy from the newly swirling foment of hormones, I could finally sleep, dosed up on a few Rescue Remedies.

The Jicks show wasn't until the next night. I had a whole night and most of the next day to master this churn and move with, not against, now non-menopause menopause (my counting starts over!) and lumbar pain. Anyway, I was always Old To Begin, the original misfit. Only someone like that would write this travelogue on a music message board utterly unironically.

Re: Setlist / show review thread

kate h wrote:

But there was one buzzkill there — were you there for that part Jesus? — where the bulky guy was like, happily and confidently like, to his girlfriend and hearing distance, "Nobody here came for anything but Pavement."


i didn't hear that specifically, but of course there's no shortage of un-enlightened people in general.  my encore wish list would be something like:

pennywhistle thunder
brain gallop
church on white

and if we're being greedy:  the hexx

Re: Setlist / show review thread

kate h wrote:

Okay, so, that cliffhanger.

Well, you see, I didn't really write as strongly and specifically as I could have about how much my body hurt when I got to the Black Cat in DC for that Jicks show. I mean I worked with it and essentially totally did a body warm up before and during Lithics (all but bending over and hanging, well, I actually did do that once enough people got there that it wouldn't look like I was showing off my butt, like once the crowd was tight), but seriously everything about my body hurt like hell.

I was trying to assess if maybe it was because of the drive up, three hours, but then that just freaked me out given how much driving I was going to do on this trip. And like I mentioned, I forgot to bring my super firm knee brace, and so I was really worried that I'd hurt myself worse by dancing that night. It already felt really fragile. But in the end, at DC, I just danced as best as I could, not really being able to help myself and all when the Jicks play! Plus those folks around me in the dance pod made it all groove.

By the time I got back from walking to my hotel my legs and back were in screaming pain (I don't ever take any painkillers and really this was kind of an unexpected pervasive pain.) I went to bed and didn't necessarily sleep well, like as in super released sleep, so that added to the bothersomeness of it all.

Okay, so here's the potentially TMI part.

I'm writing this only cuz it's the truth and because in this tell-all era where the "feelings" and "perspectives" and "experiences" of everybody are supposed to open a conduit into deeper understanding of humanity with sympathy and compassion and what have you, I figure the perspective of a 51-year-old broke-down-body lady ought to count for a little insight at least.

AND, since most everyone here is either a woman, or married to one, or has a girlfriend, or sisters, or has a mother, or daughters, well, let's just get really into the female sex for a moment. It's the deeper strand than just the overdue revolt of #metoo.

Even our pal Stephen Malkmus touched on this theme in his music, in Old to Begin:

Searching for latent cause
Blame it on menopause
Or perhaps stress and strain
Credit cards, lumbar pain
But I've seen your double dares
Everything extraordinaire
I know the things you do are gonna come back
.

Okay, so menopause, alright? Ladies, it's gonna happen to you. Guys, your wives are gonna go through it. Think of this as a little prep course, might come in handy some day.

The textbook definition of menopause is 12 consecutive months of the absence of menses, that is, no periods. Okay, I said it. We're talking about menstruation here. But it has to be the 12 months or if you miss a few and it comes on again, you start counting again from zero. Lovely method.

Once you start going through peri-menopause, which is when menopause is kicking in if you will, and you get all the glorious symptoms of that, weight gain, maybe even more moodiness than you had with PMS — oh joy — and trouble sleeping, cold and hot night sweats, hot flashes, forgetfulness, maybe a changed sex drive, and allegedly this is when we get dried up and pruny skin and hair, then you're in "the change!"

If you guys knew what it was like to be a chick, man. All this after we've already spent like 35 years bleeding monthly which, I'm not claiming is all a curse. I guess I actually liked it.

Menstruation is a cyclical purge, it's all hooked up with the moon, with tides, with dream states, with womanly intuition, with "becoming a woman" as a kind of meaningful moment, of fertility, all the mystery of woman.

Yes, menstruation has its dark side. But let's get one thing straight, just because we can be full throttle bitches during our moon time, or weepy beyond all reason, doesn't mean you men get to say that. That's an open secret. We can say shit's happening because we're on the rag. You can't. Sorry. Trust me, it's a no-win proposition for you on any front so concede that one with your ladies and move on. It's like the worst mansplaining of all. Verboten.

Okay, so that said, over the past couple of years I've had all of those little peri-menopausal symptoms and on occasion had like 2 months with no period. Maybe as many as three one time. But up until that Monday morning I had now been six months with no period. Why my body decided to kick on like Niles Crane's glockenspiel during this trip I'll never know (unless it can be blamed on the Mars retrograde that hit on the summer solstice, which would make some sense, revisiting, rewinding, re re re everything and all that).

The thing is, when you don't get periods, even if it is a kind of mystical earthy aspect of womanhood in its own way, when you don't get it, yeah, it's a freaking relief. You don't think about it. Liberation!

So I was like, "WTF?" It had been six months period free. WTF?!

Here's more TMI. I've never been a heavy bleeder. I fell more in to the short periods, a few days, relatively scant flow. But when I woke up on Monday I experienced a new and awe-inspiring form of this cyclic purging. Like the steroid version. 'Nuff said.

As I mentioned, I lit out for Richmond, Va that morning to rendezvous with my best friend Liz at this Jewish deli I love there called Perly's. (Actually, that was the one other really good meal besides my avocado. Hmmm, borscht!)

It was SO fudging hot out but luckily I was ahead of the curve on the morning traffic and got outta town pretty swiftly. But the thing is with a period, I mean, everyone is different, but for me, my lower back just becomes this locked up mass that feels like an iron plate, all flexibility lost, burning pain.

And worse than that, all the blood feels like it's draining out of my thighs while also, oddly, seeming to touch every unknown nerve throughout my entire leg, ball joint, pelvic region, and spine. It is not pleasant. Especially driving  because I want to be twisting that mess out in some way or at the least vegging out like a lump. Trust me, you can sympathize more with the lady in your life just by thinking about all these pervasive, insistent, and unforgiving sensations she goes through once a month and then how she'll go through "the change" one day.

Okay, this will come back later that night.

So I went to Richmond and picked up some Rescue Remedy (don't know how I forgot to pack that, I'm totes addicted to it, a "spiritual medicine" in the tradition of psychic-mystic Rudolf Steiner that I rely on to navigate the realms I travel to because of the overwhelming power of my lucid dream states and my interest in the soul-based evolution that such states force on me.) I was going to need that stuff for this trip for sure.

Perly's was awesome and actually I had initially asked Liz to accompany me on the trip because Thelma and Louise or whatever, but because she's kind of in a rough place right now, like kinda seeing the dark cloud about everything, I just couldn't let that in to this one whisper of a time, just six short days of my life that were meant to be all about sparkling hard. So I reneged my invitation. That wasn't necessarily cool but Liz's default position on all get togethers when she backs out, which is way too often to be fair, is "I'm gonna have to lame out." So I pulled an, "I'm gonna have to lame out" on her which was kind of the check mate that would block any further negotiations on the topic. This was a week before the trip. Perly's was the compromise.

In the end I did spend an hour in the car after Perly's with her trying to buck her up. I wish I could wave a magic wand and help her be happier. I really love her, she's one of the world's most amazingly deep persons who has an uncanniness in her ability to see the deep folkloric connections between things. I love that. But the other side is wild paranoia and conspiratorial everything. The logic gap (beyond the paranormal witnessing that I can share) is too much in some of her intensities and the level of negativity she can cling to hurts my soul to watch. Sometimes we need spiritual armor. I wanted this trip to be mine.

So on I went to North Carolina, driving too fast, listening to loud music, singing out loud, and just feeling so unencumbered by anything except my burning circulatory system and the gripped cramping hold on my body. Otherwise it was awesome!

I arrived at my airbnb at, I dunno, mid afternoon. Sadly, what was photographed as so cute turned out to be a pit. Only time that's ever happened to me w/ airbnb. Plus, the day was so outrageously hot and the airbnb owners hadn't bothered to turn on the window ac units in anticipation of my arrival. Bad form! It was an oven in there!

So I'm sitting in this obscure airbnb right next to the AC unit, hoping desperately to get cool, I've got three box fans and two ac units going which together seemed to be doing nothing on the temp front but were kicking ass at making a VERY LOUD wind tunnel out of this little dive. If I so much as moved three feet from the AC I was sweating my non-balls off and feeling like I was a luggage packer at an airport. Finally I decided to email the host and said you're going to have to refund me, listed the particulars, and told her I was splitting, that this was totally unacceptable.

That sucked, pain in the ass, and it was FUCKING HOT OUT!

I hoped I could get booked into the hotel right next to Cat's Cradle where I had stayed four years ago when the Jicksters rocked on another temp-extreme night, (it snowed and iced for that March show). Luckily I could get a room though all that was left was a "handicapped suite." Fitting for how I felt but it turns out that all that means is that it comes with a doorbell. What the fudge? If you're handicapped is it easier to respond to a doorbell than a doorknock? That I never learned.

I was so hot and bothered by this point, and not in the good way, that I just chilled out with my pal Mike Wolfe from American Pickers and read bits from the I Ching.

Later I went to get some bibimbap from a Korean place in Carrboro that turned out to just be okay, fine but not stellar and the atmosphere was non existent. But I didn't have much of an appetite because that reanimated menstrual hell was doing something that it often does — wreaking havoc on my stomach, my digestion, the whole shebang. Bad times.

So after that I just went back to my hotel though I would've preferred walking around if my body wasn't on fire and the temp on fire, too. So a bit more TV, a bit more reading about Helen DeWitt and Philip Roth, and then I was off to bed.

Only I couldn't sleep.

Not only could I not sleep, but I actually felt paralyzed, like there was an invisible hand holding me, inside me, gripping every last musculature throughout my body. I lay like that for a good long while, longer than I should have, waiting and hoping for sleep to come. Then finally I couldn't stand it anymore and got up to do some stretching that kind of morphed into what my yoga teacher Ketul might've called raja yoga, not in the actual textbook definition of that, but kind of like yoga as meditation in motion, and also, to be frank, kind of as an intentionally opened wellspring of therapy.

I don't necessarily revel in the notion that I made loud noises and weird chants and cried because I'm just like the next person, I don't want my hotel neighbors to be irked (imagine if I had to endure their barking dog?) and just being in that setting can have a certain depressing effect on the urge to go full throttle, a tamping down effect. But I had to let it flow and let it be and fight this stiff-handed menstrual revisitation with everything within me.

So I did. That's what I did that night for a good long while and then, even though I was nauseous and dizzy from the newly swirling foment of hormones, I could finally sleep, dosed up on a few Rescue Remedies.

The Jicks show wasn't until the next night. I had a whole night and most of the next day to master this churn and move with, not against, now non-menopause menopause (my counting starts over!) and lumbar pain. Anyway, I was always Old To Begin, the original misfit. Only someone like that would write this travelogue on a music message board utterly unironically.


loved the post.  and, I didn’t want to say anything, but when I saw you that Sunday night, I gave you the gift of heavy flow.  it’s one of jesus’ little known miracles.

190 (edited by setyabacksetyabacksetya 2018-06-29 05:45:17)

Re: Setlist / show review thread

Hang in, Kate -- Fleetwood Mac says even children get older!

Re: Setlist / show review thread

Jesus Christ wrote:
kate h wrote:

Okay, so, that cliffhanger.

Okay, I said it. We're talking about menstruation here.


loved the post.  and, I didn’t want to say anything, but when I saw you that Sunday night, I gave you the gift of heavy flow.  it’s one of jesus’ little known miracles.

When I was a dance student at VCU back in the day I always bled from the top of my feet, which my dance teachers blamed on the fact that I always wore clogs (couldn't stand the feeling of my whole foot being contained), but I always called it my stigmata. So you're probably on to something. I've always had faith in you, which you say is more important than proof, but now that I've seen you in the flesh and you bestowed this gift on me, well I'll consider an avenue to potential enlightenment!

Re: Setlist / show review thread

setyabacksetyabacksetya wrote:

Hang in, Kate -- Fleetwood Mac says even children get older!

It happens to the best of us!

193 (edited by kate h 2018-06-29 11:07:05)

Re: Setlist / show review thread

Monday Bloody Monday was over, all but the profuse bleeding, and it was day two in North Carolina, or what's known to my people as "the poor man's Virginia." Ha!

I'm an early riser and it was set to be another scorcher so I figured I oughta get out and get some breakfast early. Breakfast actually comes with Hilton hotels, of which I'm some kind of "rewards" member, but it always tastes like powdered eggs and it's served on paper with plastic utensils (though I carry a mess kit with me so I can eat on something real). Still, I wasn't in the mood for free but flavorless. This was Aunt Bee and Barney Fife territory. I wanted something real. And this was a vacation.

Oh wait, this was actually a business trip. I was antique scouting and picking for my booths back at home. Freakin' awesome that my favorite band was playing in all the cities I was scouting in! A girl loves a per diem.

So I started searching for a place in walking distance to get a breakfast and Lo, there was a place called "Elmo's" not .02 miles from the hotel. No brainer, amirite? They won the 2013 Indy Award for Best In The Triangle for Orange/Chatham County from the local "Independent Weekly!" I was convinced.

So I hit the bricks for Elmo's and it was cool enough, a kind of divey little local joint with a touch of old school flavor in its decor, vinyl booths, low-stooled bar seating.

I ordered a typical Southern breakfast, had my eggs over some sauteed spinach since they didn't have any vinegared collards which I woulda preferred. But in the end, no real appetite. My stomach was gutted and I couldn't each much. Had to have the coffee, and I finished off the eggs and spinach, but all the rest — bacon, toast, hashbrowns, no way. I ordered an avocado and squeezed my lemon over it and added salt.

Afterwards I wanted to see if I could suck up some air conditioning by cutting through the converted brick warehouse place, the Carr Mill Mall, that Elmo's was attached to, to get back toward my hotel while avoiding the sun. That worked but then I got waylaid by the sight of a fabric store. I like to sew.

They were closed, or actually, late in opening. There was another chick chomping at the bit to get in and we talked about how we were eager for it to open. It appears that in addition to being an all-too-rare actual fabric store, they also do something else super awesome — have kids' sewing classes. They were teaching so hard they plum forgot to open up at 10! But then they saw us and did.

I was searching for some silk ribbon because I wanted to alter a dress I had brought on the trip, switch it from a plain criss-cross front to a kind of 1950s sort of sweetheart neckline. But once I got in there I was so wowed. I was Wowie Zowied!

You gotto understand, first off, in my rural Virginia community there's nothing but quilting fabric stores — cutesy calico heaven for crafty girls — and places like Jo Ann Fabrics, which is basically cheap stuff. Buying fabric online is risky business because you want to touch it, feel it, test the drape and stretch the nap. I bought five yards of purported handkerchief weight organic Irish linen from an Etsy shop this spring that turned out to be a total poly-blend fake linen that was ham-handedly heavy weighted. Sketchy. Never again.

All that is to say I went a little crazy at this fabric shop because it was such a delight to see and explore. I got two patterns to make a shirt and a dress and fabric for both and more fabric for other projects and I totally had to restrain myself because they had this amazing collection of exquisite fabrics that I was drooling over bigly but knew I had to put the brakes on.

What I liked was that they carried these Rifle Paper fabrics and I LOVE Rifle Paper company, and then best of all they had a huge collection of Japanese fabrics which are just such yummy yummy output — great cottons and linens and silks but then the Japanese simply have such a great design sense when it comes to fabric prints, minimalist and yet subtly complex, harmonious colorations but with an edge, a sense of humor without being kitsch, cuz this is NOT Hello Kitty or animé type stuff I'm talking about, these are non-mainstream design sensibilities from the heart of kick ass Japonais.

I got into a lot of trouble at that place and didn't get to get any of the Japanese stuff — that place woulda broken my bank if I'da let it and I already spent a boatload in there. I had to save my scratch for antique pickin'. Sadly, when I was leaving I had lost my sunglasses, probably from squirreling around into so many nooks and crannies. That sucked, I couldn't find 'em.

But then, walking back to the hotel with four long rolls of fabric juggling in my arms I had some Jicks excitement! Fan girl alert, I saw Joanna!

She was walking across the parking lot of the hotel complex which made me realize that Jicks Inc. were staying in the same hotel as me! I had stayed there four years earlier and never saw them there so this was a pleasant surprise to surmise. The night before I thought maybe they were staying there because an Oregon-plated van was parked in the deck, but the deck wasn't exclusive to the hotel so I wasn't for sure, and I hadn't yet seen any of them.

So when I saw that Joanna and I were gonna cross paths I believe I said something like, "Oh, Joanna, Joanna, I saw you the other night in DC and you all sparkled so hard!" And she laughed a little and said something like, "Oh thanks," and smiled and laughed a touch and was very sweet and I replied that I thought she was a goddess and that I couldn't wait to see them tonight! So earlier when I said I "saw Joanna the next day," after DC, I actually meant this day, two days after DC.

I was glad I didn't drop the fabric rolls which were actually huge and difficult to keep straight, they're long, it probably looked like I was manning a crazy ass rifle or something, they rub against each other and slip and go all crooky-wise, very unwieldy, not exactly how you want to run into someone. But luckily I didn't have a Keystone Cops moment, kept my dignity save the fawning adoration.

Once I dropped the fabric off in my hotel room I got a call from the fabric shop saying they'd found my sunglasses and so I readied to go back out and pick those up while also doing my daily antique picking.

And then what to my wondering eyes should appear but good old Mike Clark in the lobby on my way out. He looked very natty in his pink shorts!

Again I gushed, basically saying the same thing to him as I did Joanna only I didn't call him a goddess. It was all quite fast and I didn't stop, just kind of said it in passing, and he was, of course, very gracious, thank you and all that. I told him I couldn't wait for tonight!

From there I took the car this time because I thought I might find an antique or vintage piece too big to carry back in all that heat. And I did. I scored this fabulous red leather Steelcase swivel chair from 1981 that has such a great industrial design sensibility, an iron base and back stem, old school hard molded plastic surround, looks fab, super comfortable, and comes in as a somewhat rare find in the popular Steelcase canon. I've since priced it to its real sale value — $225. — and will make a handy profit when someone bites.

I used Google to find a few more antique and vintage and thrift shops and ended out my score with a mid-century Hamilton Beach stand mixer for the kitchen, a heavy weight bubbled glass beer pitcher, a bit of 60s fabric (not to resell), and this cool double fish iron ornament maybe from a boat or a dock building (it might be architectural). I thought that gave me enough business cred to end my work day and go back to the hotel because getting in and out of the HOT car was a buzzkill.

In the hotel I was determined to alter that dress I brought, and so I went down to the hotel desk to get one of those complimentary hotel sewing kits. Hilton had a surprisingly nice one! I don't know why I didn't have my portable kit with me, I usually take it in the car most places. But then back in my room I realized I didn't have scissors because I didn't bring my kit. So back to the lobby to ask to borrow scissors and the front desk lent them to me and so I decided to just do the project in the lobby since it would only take a bit of time and that way I could give the scissors back readily.

I took up a little corner of one of the lobby booths and started sewing. And who should appear but the top Jick, the uber Jick, Stephen Malkmus as I live and breathe.

Hot (yeah, that too) and sweaty looking he breezed into the lobby wearing I think red shorts and a white tee shirt and that dirty goofball red baseball cap of his and I was like, oh, wow, and of course I totally wanted to say hi to him, and heap a compliment or two on the old boy, but he was all indoors sunglass-shielded and yapping on the phone.

I couldn't see everything he did because of where I was sitting but I got the impression he headed to the elevator because I could still hear a distant vocal murmur and basically no one else was around. I think I was right because he actually came back to the lobby to get a drink of water from the water set up they had but he was still on the ding dang phone!

I stared, didn't glance, or look away. But I guess I just didn't catch his attention.

I was so heartily bummed and crestfallen because I really wanted to talk to him, I am a SUPER FAN after all! Instead he talked all the way to the elevator and I was busy sitting there and sewing my dress. Insert teary-eyed emoji here!

Four days seeing Southie Jicks shows and that was the closest I got to him and he had to be doing some big rock star deal on the phone or something, or talking to his family, or a friend, or who knows? All I cared about was me — Ha! So bummed.

So after my little beating heart stopped going pitter patter and I was done sewing I went back up to my room and then out to the pool to cool off from the craziness and to try to use floating and the bob of water to help with any lingering bodily tension from my "lady problem."

I was meeting one of my girlfriends from back home that night for dinner and to go to the show. Mary Beth. She was down in North Carolina to see an aging aunt who she wanted to get the elder stories from and see old family pics and old family properties before said aunt...got too old.

She picked me up in her steroid-sized Jeep and we went to a lovely little restaurant back in that Carr Mill Mall called Tandem. It was basically 2,000 feet from the hotel but fudge it, we drove because it was blazing HOT. I'm usually such a conservationist. I felt very guilty for driving there and back if it helps to know that.

Tandem was yummy. I had a glass of rosé and Mary Beth cocktailed it up and we shared this utterly scrumptious cauliflower appetizer and a ribs appetizer, too. Then Mary Beth decided we needed a bottle of the rosé to share and before I knew it we had a whole bottle on the table and I didn't want it. It was so hot out and I didn't really want to drink, especially before the show, and then I got all anxious and she poured the glass anyway and I looked at it and I was like, no way, one had been more than enough for me. I felt so dizzy just having that, must've been the crazy influx of buried hormones. And then I felt certain I was going to puke.

Miraculously I didn't puke but man, I spent the next hour hoovering in a real bad place dizziness and stomach-unhappiness wise. Thankfully with a lot of water and some deep breathing and a visit back to my hotel room it passed and I could go on to the show.

The show! The show! The show was SO GREAT!

Lithics were awesome and even just a second listen showed me that. Unfortunately Mary Beth ragged on them nearly continually and compared them to, I dunno, a bunch of older acts, and I guess she found them wanting for not being the Pixies or whatever. And she didn't like the lead singer's manner and considered it contrived but I thought it was ice cool and bold and well stage crafted, not to mention she wails on guitar. Plus I was impressed that their bassist kind of has a little kick in his stride while playing, very connected to his pelvis as we say in the dance world, which just means grounded enough to glide over movement seamlessly.

I liked the Cat's Cradle venue better than Black Cat, because, you know, you see more shows you compare things. I think I saw Pavement play there, and I definitely saw the Jicks play there. Cat's Cradle has a touch more "lightness" if you will to the place, feels less tense overall.

In my view the North Carolina crowd was one of the best crowds of my four shows. It's ironic to say that because at first glance you'd probably call it a low energy crowd. But it wasn't low energy. It was just SO FUCKING HOT THAT DAY that I'm sure everybody was operating with some kind of ancient primal energy conservation mode where they're mentally all there, but no fool would've spent any more bodily energy then they had to to get by. (Except foolhardy dancers.)

But the actual vibe, the feeling in the place, I found it to be very nicely laid back, anticipating, not over stated, groovy.

Then our friends the Jicks came on — woo hoo, except barely anybody said much of that because we were HOT and conserving energy!

And the Jicks were HOT! Hot as in smokin' I mean!

Steve didn't appear to have been drinking this time, or at least not enough to tell and he looked super clear and happy and nice and I think someone mentioned that he talked a lot through that show. Indeed! That was such a treat, cause you know, he's known for his banter. Very fun, very lively.

You know, on this whole trip I didn't take any pics of the Jicks, none of the crowd, wrote down no setlists, recorded no video, didn't send myself texts of the banter. I'm sorry if I've been a bad Jicksboarder. I was way too in the moment to want to break it up for anything.

This time I had my supersonic knee brace on, and I was well hydrated so that my tummy was better and really for the most part my body was better by now. So I danced. I rocked out.

In DC they started off with Cast Off but in Carrboro with "Jenny and the Ess Dog," which I'm definitely not the biggest fan of. It's okay, but doesn't make my top 40 Jicks songs by a long shot. Not that I was feeling critical, I'm just sayin'.

The rest of the set list was super fun and it all just felt so, well, so hard sparkling! Everything was clear, the sound was good, it felt so great to dance along since my good brace was on, and the banter, while I can't name much specifics after the fact, just felt really fun, especially the clever anecdote about changing doors and not knowing what's behind the next door. It is a mystery, it takes trust. That was the segue into bringing on Steve West.

Of course the crowd was so thrilled about that, about Westie. I had this moment there where I was thinking to myself that even if these folks don't know the Jicks as well, and really identify with what Pavement was, and that SM is Pavement, and they want Pavement songs, well, I was thinking, feeling, "damn straight, why not?" These are people who love a band I love. Maybe those who haven't pursued the Jicks and are lingering in Pavement land (or who just discovered Pavement) maybe they'll have the good fortune to one day light onto the Jicks and then it will be all new to them and they'll have so much to discover and they'll be like, "Ahhhhhhh....."

How could those people be wrong? Late maybe, but not wrong.

When the show wrapped, if you've seen the video that was posted, when Steve was pointing to folks in the crowd and thanking them it was so delightful to see, such a sweet moment, his true appreciation for the audience and the audience's for him was shared so easily, so openly, so truthfully. It was a solid connection of mutual delight. I felt it. I loved it. That's a bottle I could use.

Unlike other times I've seen them they didn't come back out on stage or beside the stage — that I saw — for like, to sign fan kids' records or whatever, so again no chance to try to say hi and offer a little gush. So we went outside to the back area and Mary Beth smoked a cigarette while I tried to duck her cancer stick effluence. I hoped maybe they'd walk by but no go — maybe too busy hanging with Westie and all.

Mary Beth wanted to go out for a drink but I didn't really want to drink given my hormonal rollercoaster and she had already drank a few (she skipped out between Lithics and Jicks to get my lower-heeled shoes from my room for me and grabbed another cocktail at the bar next door before coming back so I was worried she shouldn't drink more before driving) so we just wrapped up our little rendezvous in front of the lobby and said goodbye.

I went back to my hotel room to read and relax. I figured I shouldn't stay up too late because that drive to Athens Georgia was gonna be five plus hours. I really did take a big trip for this, and more, to follow.

Re: Setlist / show review thread

On the Wednesday that I was Athens bound I woke up at 6 in the morning which is kinda par for the course for me. I was thinking about that long drive and figured as long as I was up anyway I'd rather get there early and do something (or veg out), or have time on the way for antique picking, than arrive with not much time before the show.

So I hit the road.

Speaking of which, as awesome as a "follow the band" vacation is, with that awesome showing capping every day, the getting there part can be a bit sucky. I'm kind of a byways chick rather than a highway girl. I mean, America does have some truly gorgeous highways. I recall road tripping through Vermont, New Hampshire, Maine, parts of West Virginia, Maryland, Alabama, and then in my twenties visiting Colorado, Tennessee, and having great rides on wide open lanes with stunning views. And then of course Virginia is nearly perfect.

But I'd swear that the combo of so many more cars on the road, road decay, and poor management of resources has lead to a huge decline in a great many of America's interstates and larger highways. I was never that impressed with South Carolina's ability to build or manage a road, and Georgia frankly sucked.

If I'd known how to take any byways that wouldn't have added two hours to the trip I would've taken them (with the sheer number of road construction traffic delays I did face I'm not sure it would've been longer anyway). But I'm not very good with directions and seem to develop a particular dyslexia when it comes to reading maps. I know the Google Map app can offer alternatives but I just didn't know what to trust so I stuck to the main route...and it was slow, crowded, and ugly!

But I was real excited about Athens because I know I took that exact same route to see Pavement once upon a time, from Carrboro to Athens, though the club I saw Pavement in was different, smaller, I'm pretty sure. That was a fun show. I remember a laser pointer that I giggled over, nervously. I might'a seen Jenny there — is that right Jenny? She took me backstage and then we went over to some lady's fabulous house afterward? I recall wandering the pretty garden. That was ages ago.

Once I was off of the main highways and going the remaining 40 miles down to Athens I stopped in some small main street type town. Commerce, Georgia, I think. It was kinda depressed economically so I figured it was a good spot to stop and scoop up some antiques for my booth. (Oh, I already sold that double-fish iron ornament I got in Carrboro. Bought it for $4, sold it for $34! I guess that sounds capitalistic but at least all I'm exploiting is existing goods. I like to think of it as a historic preservation-based eco-friendly business that strengthens the secondary economy.)

In Commerce I scored a Polaroid Land Camera (the kind with the accordion breadth), a wooden Bushmills sign, an antique Chinese porcelain puppet, and a really old piece of sheet music with awesome graphics titled, "They Gotta Stop Kicking My Dawg Aroun'."  I went to a couple of other mildly creepy places but didn't find anything worth investing in.

Commerce wasn't too far from Athens and as I got closer to Athens the road got prettier. It's nice the way the road kinda gets tighter and tighter with trees around and tight little curves just outside of town. It makes it feel like it's got a little bit of an old 'holler vibe.

In fact they've got a greenway at the edge of town that I had a hankering to visit but as embarrassed as I am to say this, I'm kind of wussy and afraid to be in remote spots alone. I don't know what it is, sort of primal Hansel and Gretel energy, wary of the forest alone though I love the forest more than I can say. I love nature, I love hiking and biking out in the wilderness, forest bathing, and walks in parks that are lush, and especially creeks and rivers and stuff, and camping. But even though I want to be alone in those places for my own spiritual trek, my own oneness with divine nature and the divine, I always end up wimping out and going only when I have someone to go with. Fortunately that's fairly often, but I wish I had more courage to do it alone.

When I got to Athens I sure was tempted to walk around the downtown and all but it was still hot and I wasn't focused on shopping or anything, so I just decided to read until dinner and the show. Maybe I should've seen some history, I should've thought of that, Civil War and all, but so much movement through time and space — it's nice to just relax. Plus I had a nice upgrade at that hotel to a king suite with a hip little sitting area and great windows. I was feeling comfy!

I figured I'd find a place to eat just walking over to the venue and I did, a place called South Kitchen + Bar. I sat at the bar so it wouldn't be any wait (I wanted to get to the show as early as possible without rushing) and had a half pour of a rosé hard cider that was actually from Virginia (and I know it to be kick ass and it was) and then some truly amazing tomato basil soup with pitch perfect fat-to-crisp ratio croutons floating in it and some fresh micro greens. I also got a salad that sounded better than it was. They didn't know how to make dressing I guess, their's was so flat, so I asked for some lemon and an olive and squeezed and smushed them into a cup and added salt and pepper and that helped brighten it and give it some tang.

For some reason I thought the venue was further than it was and was surprised that it was just two blocks from the restaurant and the restaurant had only been a block from my hotel.

When I got there I followed these two guys who were ahead of me who were going upstairs after giving their tickets so I figured that was the thing to do. And that's when I saw that it was a multi-level kind of theater. Really big and beautiful theater and so different from the black box clubs that Black Cat and Cat's Cradle had been.

I think that was when I got that thought that I should just watch because the view from the balcony was so nice. I could see the band's equipment all set up, it all was so spread out because they at least seemed from that angle to have more room, and I think Jake's set up was also an elevated portion of the stage (maybe his drums are always like that, I dunno.)

I was wearing my extra firm brace, so I could've opted to dance but there was just this instinct in me to watch and that's when I posted on the board that if anyone else was there, I was on the balcony at the middle corner. It truly was a primo spot. So I just settled in for some people watching and waiting for Lithics to take the stage.

I may be wrong since I didn't write this down, but I think Lithics played the exact set order for all the shows. To me that was fine because it made everything more familiar more quickly, like listening to a record. Or if they did deviate/mix it up they didn't do so by much. Their set was strong and really enjoyable and I could tell immediately that I liked this "just watching not dancing" thing.

In between the bands more folks arrived and this guy tried to get me to move down to the left so he and his girlfriend could sit together and the left didn't have as great a view as I currently had but I was sitting on a bar stool in between two barstools which kind of blocked two people from sitting together and I knew that wasn't maybe a good thing.

But I was...selfish. I said I'd move to the right but not to the left, and I also was taking my barstool with me because the one I was on was nice and the other two were kinda broken seated and wobbly. Maybe that wasn't nice of me but it's what I did anyway. I mean I did it nicely, with a little smile, but I just kinda stuck to my guns about my chair and my view.

Actually his girlfriend was running around chatting folks up so at some point I told him a joke from a recent cartoon in the New Yorker. It was two chicks at a coffee shop at separate tables and the one chick says to the other, "Excuse me, can you watch my stuff? And also fight off a thief?" I told this little anecdote by way of asking him to save my seat so I could run to the bathroom and to get some water. He was very nice and laughed at my joke and did that for me.

When the Jicks came on I just gotta say Steven Malkmus looked hot — as in handsome — in a white shirt. It created excellent stage presence and was a Solid Silk look! And with Joanna in white pants, and Jake in a white tee with something on it, can't recall what, it was all a very fresh combo. Mike wasn't matched to the band but he provided the harmonic visual counterpose. The whole band looked great and I had the world's best view!

All I can say about that show is that I laughed, I cried. I mean I literally cried.

If someone had filmed me during the show I would mostly have just been glowing in pure joy, absolutely beaming with a huge unending smile on my face. I was SO HAPPY. Every song was solid, fun, connected, real, and alive with so much good energy.

But then when Mike and Steve played "Freeze the Saints" it was so touching that I did cry. I cried. Seriously, I actually cried. I spent the next song, "It Kills," actually wiping away tears. And the funny thing is, after "Freeze the Saints," Mike took his left hand and he made one of those baby wah-wah crying signs and made a big mucky baby crying frown, like "aw, that was so sad," and it was so hilarious! But as funny as it was it didn't stop my little weepy waterworks. I started to wonder about the state of my mascara — ha!

And this is a show where they already played "No One Is (As I Are Be)," which I think was also played in DC, but this one, with this view, with this beautiful theater, and that white shirt, and the centered, present performance, it was sublime.

And Steve just kept pouring on the touching songs. In fact he said something at some point about how he was "playing all these ballads that night and here's another.." or something like that. He said that either when they played "J Smoov, " or when they played "Let Them Eat Vowels" (NO, they did NOT follow it with "Difficulties" which broke my heart). They left the stage after LTEV before the encore and I think I yelled out, "NO, no, you have to play 'Difficulties,' you have to," or something like that. I LOVE THAT SONG!

I thought it was a rare treat all these songs that suggest and demand more vocal sincerity and maybe, like, a singer's vulnerability, than a lot of Malkmus output. On LTEV, I mean, his voice and his stage presence was, I thought, crackling with immediacy and a sincerity that was palpable. And you already know I weeped over "Freeze" and that that the other ballads tore it up ever so sweetly. So I found it a very unique show to get to see.

Not everyone agreed. After the show I went to the bathroom and a woman in one of the stalls was carping to her friend about all the slow songs and how they were weird choices and no one knows those songs and that it sucked and didn't show what the Jicks are made of, and that the Pavement ones were not good choices and all that. I could only think, "Did we see the same show?" Because for me it was a perfect moment that lasted from the first step onto stage until the last departure.

I was so wowed that just after the show ended and before I went to the ladies', I sat there on my barstool for a few minutes and continued to take it all in. I was thinking how I only had one more show on this Jickscation, and that this theater was so beautiful, its big old red curtains draping down and blowing in the ambient breezes, its wide stage so well carved, and the whole show had a super strong light show with it that added a lot of drama and edge to it all. I wanted to bask in the gratitude that I had given myself the gift of this little trip and that I had every intention of enjoying every minute of it as much as I could.

When I was leaving I hit the merch booth for the first time, but not the Jicks, Lithics. I bought their record Mating Surfaces and the check out person was that bassist whose groove I've mentioned a few times. So I told him that he's good with his movement and to keep it up. He said it's the only exercise he gets on the road because there's so much time in cars. I could relate based on my scant recent experience.

Walking back to my hotel afterwards was fun — not too hot any more, lots of light, and Athens is cool, accessible, wonderful architecture, well proportioned streets. A good number of folks begging for money were out and that surprised me and made me sad. I wished I'd packed some little nut bags or granola bars like I sometimes do so I could give something out but it didn't occur to me that there would be so many in such a small town. Fresh cause for worry in America and what's happening to folks.

I took some photos of interesting architectural features and looked in store windows and checked out from the outside what kind of scene was there in the bars and nightlife as I headed back to my room. Back in my room I looked out the window some and let loose my thoughts, still basking in the lingering glow of that truly perfect show.

Soon enough I read a little bit and then went to sleep. The Nashville drive was even bigger than the Athens one and it involved the oily spaghetti bowl of Atlanta. Gotta rest up.

Re: Setlist / show review thread

i finally took a moment to read the new posts. thank you for taking the time to share your adventures kate! i truly enjoyed reading every word! i wish i could express it more but right now i am just too in love with you.


did you make it up to the rooftop bar at the GA Theatre?

Re: Setlist / show review thread

jickjoosment wrote:

i finally took a moment to read the new posts. thank you for taking the time to share your adventures kate! i truly enjoyed reading every word! i wish i could express it more but right now i am just too in love with you.


did you make it up to the rooftop bar at the GA Theatre?


Aw, thanks! I did step up and see the fab rooftop bar (would love to go back to Athens sometime) but just took a peek and used the ladies', which was only up there or downstairs. I wanted to keep that primo spot I had, and I wasn't drinking anything, so I didn't hang around there.

Here comes the final installment.

197 (edited by kate h 2018-07-05 06:17:27)

Re: Setlist / show review thread

"Up On The Sun" (a fave Meat Puppet's song of mine) or at least up with the sun — that's what I was doing on the last leg of my Jickscation. Only there wasn't much sun, it was overcast as the sun moved to its zenith in the sky that day, the summer solstice, the longest day of the year, and a day packed with glistening astrology perched on a week with tremendous astrology to come, notably the rare and potent Mars retrograde that we're in now.

And since I was up early, like the other days, I lit out for Nashville by about 6:20 that morning.

I really did think I was clever getting on the road so early and that I'd skirt any rush hour traffic around Atlanta on my way but it was a total no go. I spent until probably 10 just getting the hell out of the innumerable and unvaryingly clogged merging lanes and past the Atlanta hub on towards Nashville. It was slug eat slug.

I couldn't help but think about and pray for the poor saps who believe that their only real option is to live an existence that involves 2-4 hours per day OR MORE just sitting in discrete vehicles in an endless horizon of tragicomical traffic to get to their jobs and that somehow they regard the payoff as worth it. It's a perspective I can't understand at all but I do try to feel for them. And also to be grateful that it's not me.

But the drive wasn't all bad. I didn't know I'd be licking past the border of Chattanooga and that leg was pretty, some kind of pass in there, lovely river, a beautiful mountain drive.

When I was 21, my boyfriend King and I rode our 750 Yamaha Virago from Colorado back to Virginia and then from Virginia down to the Great Smokies and I remembered how Chattanooga was this surprisingly lush and ultra-Southern stop along our way. It's a brick warehouse filled little city, minor city, wrapped around by almost like a fjord — the mountains loom up close. When we came down out of them back then I recall it was like being spit out of the fecund hills into a ghost-rich city wafted by honeysuckle. I shoulda made time on this trip to stop there for a bit because of the fond memories but I've decided since to try to get down there sometime in the near future.

I did do a really bad thing on the way. The rainy mountain pass ride was so pretty that I decided to make a little video for my IG, driving, listening to tunes, all that. I hate myself for doing that. I never text and drive, barely talk on the phone and drive except on speaker (occasionally), and so to be videoing something from behind the wheel at 65 mph, very bad form! I hate myself for it but after doing so I knew that in the whole of my life I'd never be so reckless with my life and the lives of others again. I'm still chastising myself over that!

In the end I got to Nashville around 12:30, hit a high-end antique store focused on 18th century pieces that I drooled over more for my decor than for potential antique clients (all way out of picking range — you can't usually double the price on a $4k piece in most other markets most of the time). I also sat in the parking lot and checked my phone, and posted something on the board, that maybe I was planning on watching again tonight instead of dancing. More on that later.

My hotel was good enough to let me check in right away instead of waiting till 3 and so I dumped my stuff off and headed out for Hatch Show Print, which was one big bonus to extending the trip this far in the first place. I'd wanted to see HSP for a good five years and my husband has no interest in Nashville period, and flatly refused to take me there for HSP, and I'd begun to think I'd never see the place.

Hatch Show Print has been making letterpress posters and other print bits since 1875. I've made posters since I was about 16, and letterpress ones and/or hand-carved linoleum block prints for about those same five years, and plus my great-grandfather was an etcher, he worked for the National Mint, and I'd had a lifelong love of printing in part spurred by him. I love language and it seems all my life I've adored typography — been really attuned to how letters are formed, different fonts, types in relation to one another, in relation to images, used historically as broadsides, how they've been used in commercial art, and then in recent years where the influence of commercial art elements have influenced any kind of lettering art and Internet imagery, even home decor. Some of it is weird but it remains fascinating.

So getting to see this iconic place that is itself bound up with the music industry, making show posters, was a super special treat for me. I went and took their tour, which gives a LOT of history, from the hyper-local elements of the place, like that they always make the county fair poster for Fulton County (and seeing them you can really see the influence on Americana posters, carny type stuff), and the brothers who founded the place and how it was passed through their family and then eventually taken over by others, and how the workroom and all the letter stock and carvings have been preserved in their mid-century state, and how they hand carve (no computers, no computers!!!!!) and hand print most all their design work, and the process for that — I loved every single second of this amazing letterpress tour!

They showed us TONS of posters they made over the years, like easily 75, and in the back of my mind I'd sworn I thought I'd seen Pavement had done one once but when I asked the guy — and he was really glad to ponder Pavement and said he hoped they had but he wasn't sure and what a great band Pavement was and so I told him about the Jicks show that night and he was psyched — it turned out he couldn't readily find one.

So no evidence of a Pavement poster, but there were so many bands up on display I couldn't begin to touch on the largesse. But even like The White Stripes and The Decembrists and Yo La Tengo, all the oldies, Yes and Fleetwood Mac, Bob Dylan, that whole pantheon, you know, Talking Heads, and all the old and new country, Elvis obviously, Patsy Cline, Hank Williams, Johnny Cash, Roy Orbison, that kind of thing, even David Sedaris! And on and on it goes into ads for everything, and all the carny stuff, lots of "show review, beautiful girls" type stuff, sports events, boxing, hockey, witty and wise sayings, church revivals, big tent shows, whatever. It's fudging awesome!

That's where I bought all my souvenirs. I got Liz, whose a N'awlins born native and a Tennessean at heart even though she was raised in Virginia, my depressed friend who I dined with at Perly's, I got her a poster that says, "Yer sweeter than candied yams dipped in honey covered in syrup with them big ole pieces of white sugar on 'em & a dadgum cherry on top!" Liz doesn't think anyone recognizes her brilliance (she is actually brilliant) and her thoughtfulness and kindness so I hope this'll do the trick for her when we get together next.

And then for my girls, I got them each one that says, "I love you a bushel and a peck, a bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck." I used to sing that to them all the time when they were little (and still do sometimes in one of those you're-fully-grown-but-you're-still-my-baby-and-I'm-still-your-mommy moments). Only I sing it all the way..."a hug around the neck and a barrel and a heap, a barrel and a heap and I'm talking in my sleep about you, a-b-b-b-bout you!" I can't wait till tomorrow because my older daughter Anwyn is coming home from Paris for a month and she is going to LOVE hers (I didn't tell her about it yet). It's flat so it's easy to drag back to France in her suitcase.

I got myself a circus type one with elephants and tigers and lions that just says Hatch Show Print and the dates and I got Erik a deck of cards because it has George Washington as one of the face cards and he loves the 18th century and early American history even more than I do.

After all that, which was only a few blocks from my hotel, I went back and got ready for the night.

I had somehow concluded that it maybe wasn't as hot, so instead of wearing the same dress I'd worn to every other show (lazy packing) I decided to wear a long sleeved shirt and jeans. I had been afraid it was going to rain, but just before the show I decided it wasn't and didn't put on rain boots and rain jacket and umbrella (thankfully, because it didn't rain and that stuff woulda been hot).

I hopped a cab down to the show only he never turned the meter on and didn't know how to get there and when he pulled up to the Mercy Lounge he asked me to just give him what I thought it was worth. It was like 10 blocks maybe, I gave him 8 bucks. I hope that was fair.

I still needed to eat though I continued to not have much of an appetite and after poking my head in this place in the Gulch area where the club is called Peg Leg Porker, which smelled outrageously yummy, I decided to ditch that because it was so crowded and also really hot in there with giant industrial fans screaming in the place. I ended up at some place called The Chef and I which was some kind of chef-driven chef table theater type of thing.

I know it's probably so verboten in 21st century America to call out any kind of so-called stereotypes but they do exist, in part, for a reason. And this place was totally run, in the front of the house — host, bartender, a server — by extremely snooty and flamboyantly snooty, gay guys. The kind who are "so over" everything. Very "don't you know who we are?" And yes, this can be expressed by social-climbing teen age and twenty something girls, or middle aged style makers, or preppie-ass frat dudes whether still in school or just overgrown in lobster pants but each kind has their own way of proffering their crippled and petty snobbery and it would be nice if we could still point that out as a phenom without being tarred as some kinda hater. This restaurant was all the way the snooty gay guy way and it was as silly as the other ways, just done this way.

The place wasn't even full, only half the "theater kitchen" seats were occupied, and the only thing bringing me there was proximity, not that the chef's reputation wenteth before him or something. I didn't have a reservation, didn't know about the place, just wanted to sit at the bar, get a quick appetizer, have a glass of wine, and move on. And in spite of the evident half empty state of things the gatekeepers were reluctant and inhospitable. (Maybe my rolled up jeans looked too downscale, who knows?) But they did let me have a bar seat with a touch of barely concealed eye roll.

In the end the caprese salad with butternut squash that I got was good, was okay, but nothing to make me sit up and take notice. In fact, the tomatoes could have been drizzled earlier with olive oil and salted in order to pick up more meaningful and subtle flavor. So it was all just okay.

When I was ordering, the bartender also said their rosé was dry when it turned out to be bordering on sweet once i tasted it and when I gently mentioned that after he asked me how the wine was he challenged me like I was an idiot and called another guy over and vocal-fryly said, "She said this isn't dry but it is dry, isn't it?" and the second guy said "Yes, it's totally dry," and the bartender looked at me and said, "See?"  I stood corrected.

Needless to say I had no desire to linger there and got over to Mercy Lounge about a good half hour before Lithics came on.

I must've thought that Mercy would be bigger than the Georgia Theater because Athens is a small town and I had maybe even been confused from looking at the various club websites, but it turns out the Mercy Lounge is really small. It was likely smaller than any of the other three places I saw the Jicks on this getaway.

It's a second story exposed bricks type place, with several posts lining the central sweep of the place so that being sure I had an unobstructed view was a top concern. I wasn't going to be watching from some perfect perch like the night before. I'd be lucky if I could see at all.

It's then that I realized that I hadn't worn any knee brace at all that night. I must've forgot because I was wearing pants instead of a dress. So then I was worried about keeping my knee stable.

I found a corner by a window and the wall over on the Mike and Jake side of things. It was next to a pole (not one of the pillar/posts) which I calculated might come in handy if I felt like rocking out but wanted to be sure that my knee wouldn't be totally vulnerable and I could grab onto something. I was also glad I was wearing these higher heeled Dansko sandal slides because they have like a two-inch heel which is helpful once it gets crowded and I can't see over any of these big boys heads.

Lithics were a delight again and I made a mental note to listen to their CD on the ride back to Virginia the next day.

After that it was all about holding my spot and toughing it out in what was turning out to be a pretty hot evening in that club and I was wearing a long-sleeved shirt. I did bring a hand fan with me to all these gigs and ladies, they're a life saver. The Jicks should make one and add it to their merch — would totally sell out! Everyone who saw it complimented me on it one way or another, like how smart it was to carry one.

Speaking of compliments, I think I might've gotten hit on that night. I'm not sure because, you know, I don't go out to bars alone or hit a bunch of clubs solo most of the time, so I'm probably out of practice. You decide.

So this guy comes up next to me I think after Lithics and he starts making conversation. The obvious, "Have you ever seen this band before? I haven't seen them play live." And I'm all, "Oh yeah, I've seen them lots of times and Pavement lots of times too. In fact, I've been following them on this tour. I just saw their last three shows, in Athens, Chapel Hill, and DC." He was wowed by that and didn't say anything for a sec and then he said, and this is the "was he hitting on me?" part, he says, "Suddenly I feel really underdressed." He was in a tee shirt and jeans and they looked fine enough to me if unremarkable, totally like most of the folks there, and so I was totally earnestly like, "Why?" And he said something like, "Well look at you." And I felt mortified and I said, "What, do I look overdressed?" And he said, "I just meant you look really nice tonight." Not used to an out-of-the-blue compliment from a stranger at a club. Of course I was all stammery and didn't know what to say so I said, "I'm feeling like the girl from Lithics, that maybe I'm beginning to rethink these long sleeves," because that's something she'd said about her sweatshirt and it was true, I was getting very hot (and no, not because of the guy.)

So I rolled up my sleeves and took out my fan and he started asking me more questions about the Jicks but then the Jicks came on super fast, much faster than between the sets at the other shows I thought, and I was so excited for my last show but the guy kept talking! He kept asking me questions and the first thing I said was, "Wait, I want to hear every single word they say." I was super nice about it, but definitely insistent, but he didn't get the clue and kept asking me questions and saying stuff to me. I really didn't want to move from what I considered to be a very strategic spot — window ledge to hold my water, pole to hang on to for dear life when I danced knee-brace free — so I finally said, "I don't want to talk now but I'll tell you after the show. Fortunately that shut him up.

The Jicks started up and if the set list here is to be believed — https://www.setlist.fm/setlist/stephen- … a3b36.html — they opened with "Jenny and the Ess Dog." I can't recall for sure but I do know that I thought everything sounded awful because there was this tremendous amount of feedback that hadn't been there for Lithics. It was ear splattering.

I recall that at some point, for some song, early, Steve said something like, "Am I in the room," I think referencing whether his maybe acoustic guitar was picking up and sounding good. I don't know how things work, like, if they travel with their own sound guy or whether it's a new sound person for every show who does it for the club, and so I'm so afraid to say this because I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings, but I was thinking, "How can someone not hear that the sound is so off?" I mean, I'm a total clueless idiot about so much as setting the treble and bass in my car and even I could tell that the sound wasn't right for the size room.

The "maybe-he's-hitting-on-me guy" mentioned something about it and this time I did talk to him instead of shush him and I said, "Yeah, there's way too much feedback, how are they not catching this?" So he took off the second I said that and I think went and said something to the sound guy because within a short minute it all sounded so much better. If it had been that way for the whole show it really would've sucked. So I guess hitting on me guy was good for something.

I couldn't see much of Joanna sadly because I really like watching her serene vibe and Mike was very blocked by a pole (though I did want to mention that Mike really tears it up. The night before in Athens with that broader stage space, he totally used his space, stepped up partly on his amp or some equipment, really used a lot of physicality and dimension in playing, it's very rad.) I could see a little bit of Jake from time to time (he always looks so happy to me), and I could sort of see Steve on occasion.

I recall Steve all of the sudden saying something like, "Oh, there's my wallet," and appearing to pick up his wallet from the edge of the stage. Then he talked about what tour per diems are and how his wallet is stuffed with cash because he eats on the cheap and he's got a lot of money in there because he doesn't fully use his per diem. That seemed to make the crowd laugh. He's just like you Got Money?, he's got money! Ha!

I definitely got into rocking out even though it was tight as sardines in there, much tighter than any of the other shows I'd seen. Because I was against the wall it was even tighter because that doesn't move. At one point I did have to ask this guy in front of me if he'd be willing to scooch forward just an inch or so and thankfully he did. He was among this class of couples who seem to need to be in constant physical contact with one another at a show. I mean, don't get me wrong, I like me some kissing and I dig everything in the "No Tan Lines" arena but this constant petting at a show looks a little soggy with co-dependency. But mostly the linked figures take up too much extra space with the infernal rejiggering of their coupledom and that cuts into my dance space, a far more important realm of space at a show in my totally biased and self-serving opinion!

Again, I can offer you no set list, only that I was blissed out in the extreme, rocking out to the band who now sounded superb after the sound rework.

Of all the nights I saw them I liked "Middle America" the most on this night, it somehow sounded more powerful and I lived into the lyrics and music in my dancing in a big way, it felt so connected.

When they did their Pavement heavy encore I totally got into it. Figured why not, here's my last few songs live. I totally sang along on "Shady Lane" and my heart coulda burst through my chest I was so into it. I'm so critical about my voice because my family, which was all musicians on my mom's side, harped at me constantly that I sang out of key. Singing for me is something that usually causes my throat to seize up and I can't even get a sound out. It's gotten better over time, the feeling of mortifying humiliation not so severe, but still not good by any stretch. But it wasn't there at all that night, not one whisper. I full out sang and loved it. Clearly I've "learned to sing along and languish here..."

It was one of the few times I could see Steve, too. You know he usually has that hair over his eyes — he could really use a barber who understands the shape of his head — and maybe he likes that hair over his eyes, maybe it helps with "avoidance dripping from his chin," (he did actually sing one of the nights, "the avoidance drips from my chin" instead of "your chin"), but in this one bit of time during "Shady Lane" I think his body position and the lights and whatever made it so that his eyes could be seen while he was playing. I'm gonna gush now, so deal with it. He looked really beautiful — just in his element, open into himself and his body with his instrument, full of song and ownership and possession of his whole self, and his eyes so visibly clear and bright. I loved seeing that, I just looked right into them and was blissed out.

I'm sure you can imagine that the whole of everything was like the night before, I was simply completely and totally happy in every imaginable way to get to be here and be part of the crowd of Jicks-loving Pavement-loving peeps.

But ding dang if even good things don't come to an end.

Steve had cajoled the audience to come see them in Louisville and I seriously considered it. I mean, I figured why the hell not, what am I doing on Friday? And in the end I really wish I had because the drive home was SOOOOOOO long and going to Louisville woulda broken it up just a smidge. That's a regret I'll long have!

After the show I was desperate for water and the bathroom and so took off for that immediately and abruptly. I didn't say good-bye to maybe-hitting-on-me-guy which I hope didn't make it seem like I can "Spit on a Stranger." I didn't mean it coldly, and I supose a goodbye would have been more polite. Shame on me.

Tnen I walked back to my hotel those ten blocks, which was a little nerve-wracking but turned out okay and settled in for a nice sleep-in because the hotel check out time was a rare Noon and I could use the sleep.

The next morning after checking out and before hitting the road I went to Antique Archeology, the store that the "star" of American Pickers, Mike Wolfe, owns. Just a sexist plug for Mike here, he should totally be like, on that People Magazine type list for the "Hottest Men In America." Brains, a passion for history, digs and celebrates Americana, totally kind to people, really truly interested in people and not just their things, a great buddy to his road partner Frankie, and drop dead gorgeous. It should be folks like that who are glorified and not just actors. Anyway, that probably makes me sound shallow but a girls got eyes, you know.

Sadly, whatever Mike Wolfe brings to his show he does NOT bring to his shop. Not only was the shop super small (I was expecting a big antiques expo warehouse or something) but it was about 65% brand merch. Like mugs and tees and posters and keychains and matchboxes and candles and baby onesies and you name it. The actual vintage and antiques were few and far between. I complained about this on my IG while also saying that I was going to double the price of what I bought there when selling and some guy commented, "Classic logrolling." I didn't know what that meant so I looked it up and in addition to some unsavory and unmentionable definitions from the Urban Dictionary, it also means kind of tit for tat political favors. So I'm hoping the guy wasn't calling my re-sale plans logrolling but rather that the TV show was a tit for tat trade driving TV watchers to Mike (the multi-millionaire's) shop where the #1 thing to pick up is stuff to advertise...Mike's store.

So I was disappointed in that. I did get this rad late 60s early 70s Remco doll head that I'm going to sell at Halloween, but there was almost nothing else to choose from there were so few "pickings."

After that what was left but to head back to Virginia?

When I got on the 40 and Google Maps Siri said, "Go straight for 212 miles," I was at least glad to not keep that power-draining app on, but I was also like, ugh, just this long slog across the least pretty part of Tennessee. Even when I got to my turn North at Knoxville it was another 100 miles to Bristol, which is that town half-in and half-out of Virginia and Tennessee.

I'd swear I drove 85mph a good 70% of the way but it still took me until 10:30 pm to get home. When I did get home I was so relieved from the fatigue of driving (though finally in Virginia there were excellent roadways and gorgeous scenery) that I had a good old "home sweet home" feeling. Sadly that lasted only about 20 minutes.

For whatever reason my husband Erik all of the sudden got so pissed off about my trip which was heartily unexpected, and nitpicked the expenses even though it was seemingly fine before, and basically harped on me for two full hours. I was so tired and of course trying to keep the glow of my happiness about me and it was a real fudging come down! The end.

No, no way am I going to end it there. I told Erik the next day that such a blindside was unacceptable and kicked him out of the house for the day, told him to find something to do all day so I could unpack and stuff and cool down. So then I got the house to myself and took a couple of little hits of weed, put on some Sparkle Hard, and danced it out a few times, with lots of space, a tight knee brace, and a whole new understanding of the music.

And I danced and danced that day.

I hope when the tour revs back up mid month ya'll will do better than me and actually post set lists and remember banter and tell us about your good time!

Up with Jicks!