05-31-2015, 11:32 AM
It was a painfully gray Monterey weekend, overcast and cool, and it even rained on Saturday morning, just enough to get the fine dust to stick to my car and camping equipment. That always makes for a mellow show though, because people just don't drink as much.
I got there early and scored an excellent spot (kinda near last year's spot) with my brand new massive 3-person Coleman tent and air mattress, and our precious REI backpacking tent which S doesn't allow my to take to festivals but made this exception for the girls. Tara came with her friend Caroline, the two top-of-their-class students, and coincidentally the sister of the Irishmen we brought to U2. They were staying the night.
hock:
I got in early and helped lay the foundations for the weekend, making signs and setting up. This year, we felt THE PINCH resources were all tighter because more people have attached to the scene, sucking up real estate and commodities. We were doing our own food (more on this later), parking was really tight, and there were more people than ever. There was a nasty skirmish between RM and merch. We shared a building and its men's and women's restrooms but merch cannot cut through RM due to our strict HIPPA compliance and their supe and our supe butted heads like rams in heat. It was unfortunate because a little patience could have resolved it more amicably with a little more pipe and drape; what eventually happened is we claimed the men's room and merch claimed the women's room. It worried me because our supe does all the camping festivals, something that's a major pride point (it's not like he's getting paid) and he was at breaking point over what was ultimately a trivial matter. He's got a lot of camp outs to manage this summer, so I hope he holds it together. Given the growth pressure, if it had been hot, CR would have been tough. There were migration jams as fans of bigger acts collide with food lines (the line in front of the mini donuts stand was really bad). I've been expecting this. Reggae spreads like mold in a dreadlock.
There were no artist descriptions in the pamphlet. I have never seen this, ever. All we got was a poorly done hieroglyphic based map (the distinction between the icons for the original stage and the Cali stage were faint shades of blue), a poorly designed schedule (had to look at everything twice to get it) and lots and lots of ads. Good printing, heavy stock paper, but just ads? srsly? Very telling about what this fest is about now. merch...and mold.
I responded to the first call, taking a wheelchair across front of the main stage during the first act (or maybe it was the second). That was fun. Mostly it was hippie feet though, and a few syncopals. The sun darted in and out and while out, I helped hustle nearly $100 in donations. People gave me a lot of stuff all weekend. All kinds of stuff. Free lemonade from a vendor stand. Even a talking Yoda-head flashlight. I'm well stocked with stuff now. I only bought one sticker, the Kamakura Buddha that matches my veranda Buddha, which I put on my iPhone case.
I missed Giant Panda Dub Squad, who I've been wanting to see for some time just because I like their name. Steel Pulse was good, always a classic, although their horn section seemed weaker than what I remembered. Prezident Brown made a surprise cameo with SP (he wasn't even playing at CR) but that was short and unimpressive. Soja closed Friday, and to them, like to a lot of CA reggae, I say 'meh'. Many of the other vols were into them, so I covered RM quite happily and gave them all a big "told ya so" when they returned after unimpressed.
The girls were in bed before I even got to camp. They had a great day and that let DM come out to play for the evening.
Saturday morning was misty. There was a new masseuse who sat in her car doing makeup for an hour with her engine running (our cars were squeezed in our camp - part of the PINCH). I sent the girls on a ride on Wade's trike, a self-built tricked out psychedelic motor-trike with a blasting stereo system. Wade is a longtime RM friend, and clean and sober, so as strange as it sounds to send my teenage daughter off with a crazed biker, it was cool and the girls had a total blast.
We had one call where Fire responded probably because someone in the audience dialed 911. It was a minor call that became major because of the response, and Fire was more than happy to hand the patient off to us. The sun peaked out for a few minutes just after, as if to say 'thanks & praises'.
I caught some of Chronix, a band that's good for two songs, then gets sounding repetitive in a way like most undiscerning listeners probably characterize all reggae. Dirty Heads is such stereotypical CA reggae - another 'meh'. S came to pick up T that night (Caroline went home with her brother, the one who joined us for U2, who bought a ticket and seemed to have a grand time on his own that day). S and T stayed for Michael Franti. We got up to the VIP area on the side of stage and had a grand time. Franti was out in the audience, releasing a horde of beach balls, getting us all to chant 'all the freaky people make the beauty of the world', doing his usual theatrics. 'Twas fun. I checked my star map app and saw that Leo was right over the stage for Franti. Then my family went home.
Once again, left unchaperoned, DM could run amuck that night. He renamed the two Jeffs, supe Jeff J. became Jeffy J and the previous-known-as 'little Jeff' (a slightly derogatory name as he's short, but Jeffy J is well over six feet), him I renamed F-in Jeff (his last name begins with F). Not sure how well those will stick but we're hoping. Also renamed a way-too-talkative vol Pebbles because she ate way too many medically-laced Fruity Pebbles and had to be force fed more by decision of all the crew to get her to shut up. Later it was revealed that they were really Trix, but that wouldn't have worked for her nickname as well.
Sunday, T's BF came with T and I managed to orchestrate parking his big fat truck quite nicely. I should mention that both T's friends looked like deer in headlights for the early part of the show, but then surrendered to the riddem and had a great time. Also joining was one of T's teachers, a PhD in psychology and a volunteer Fire responder. I had her in tow for the morning, getting her oriented. She started doing some yoga and I mentioned how they usually have yoga and then we noticed it was going down right then, right across from RM, so we joined in. And it was a good class...for hippie yoga that is. She sat alongside as I talked down our biggest tripper - a shroomer who was totally oriented. We discussed buddhism, rastafarianism and the BIG PICTURE. It was amusing as talkdowns go, but I wasn't on my game. Got him back in the crowd nevertheless.
Sunday's music was lackluster. One of my JNK and I were walking towards a band and I asked who he thought it was. He replied without seeing them "another reggae band without any black people". Sure enough, he was right. I caught a lot of Tribal Seeds during a call. They were nice and bassy and made for a good soundtrack to a mediocre rescue. The highlight for me was Cypress Hill, a band that I've followed since their very beginning. They got off the best right side vs. left side battle eva - had the whole audience laughing and participating, dropping F-bombs at each other and talking smack - hilarious. They also had some great old skool scratching and a wicked bongo solo.
I got caught in this weird RM food war. Breaky and Dindin was supposed to be provided by RM. Wade, a former chef, always cooks for his friends out of his own pocket - decent food too, especially breaky; his dindin was an excellent tri-tip which I would have thoroughly enjoyed in my carnivorous incarnation. But see, there's the rub. As a pescatarian, they were going out of their way to make special food for me, despite my declinations of their offers. RM gave F-in Jeff and his sig O (who are part of my TCEC&KFTCD Dragon crew I should add) $200 to provide 6 meals for 40 vols. Do the math there. That's $5 for 6 meals. So they were struggling (and I should note that they aren't really cooks). Then they would make these special veg offerings (mac & cheese, spaghetti with veg prego) but huge amounts, like a frakking massive bowl, just for me. It was awkward. I would up buying fried calamari at one of the food stands (and that was delicious).
The downside of it all was that T came down with a bad sore throat right after. She's had a rough week - had to miss two days at school, and we bailed out of BottleRock (or I'd be there right now with her instead of writing this here). She still has a nasty cough. She's learned how to stay safe from predators at festivals, but still has to learn how to pace herself and avoid illnesses. That has taken me years and I still overdo now and again.
I got there early and scored an excellent spot (kinda near last year's spot) with my brand new massive 3-person Coleman tent and air mattress, and our precious REI backpacking tent which S doesn't allow my to take to festivals but made this exception for the girls. Tara came with her friend Caroline, the two top-of-their-class students, and coincidentally the sister of the Irishmen we brought to U2. They were staying the night.
hock: I got in early and helped lay the foundations for the weekend, making signs and setting up. This year, we felt THE PINCH resources were all tighter because more people have attached to the scene, sucking up real estate and commodities. We were doing our own food (more on this later), parking was really tight, and there were more people than ever. There was a nasty skirmish between RM and merch. We shared a building and its men's and women's restrooms but merch cannot cut through RM due to our strict HIPPA compliance and their supe and our supe butted heads like rams in heat. It was unfortunate because a little patience could have resolved it more amicably with a little more pipe and drape; what eventually happened is we claimed the men's room and merch claimed the women's room. It worried me because our supe does all the camping festivals, something that's a major pride point (it's not like he's getting paid) and he was at breaking point over what was ultimately a trivial matter. He's got a lot of camp outs to manage this summer, so I hope he holds it together. Given the growth pressure, if it had been hot, CR would have been tough. There were migration jams as fans of bigger acts collide with food lines (the line in front of the mini donuts stand was really bad). I've been expecting this. Reggae spreads like mold in a dreadlock.
There were no artist descriptions in the pamphlet. I have never seen this, ever. All we got was a poorly done hieroglyphic based map (the distinction between the icons for the original stage and the Cali stage were faint shades of blue), a poorly designed schedule (had to look at everything twice to get it) and lots and lots of ads. Good printing, heavy stock paper, but just ads? srsly? Very telling about what this fest is about now. merch...and mold.
I responded to the first call, taking a wheelchair across front of the main stage during the first act (or maybe it was the second). That was fun. Mostly it was hippie feet though, and a few syncopals. The sun darted in and out and while out, I helped hustle nearly $100 in donations. People gave me a lot of stuff all weekend. All kinds of stuff. Free lemonade from a vendor stand. Even a talking Yoda-head flashlight. I'm well stocked with stuff now. I only bought one sticker, the Kamakura Buddha that matches my veranda Buddha, which I put on my iPhone case.
I missed Giant Panda Dub Squad, who I've been wanting to see for some time just because I like their name. Steel Pulse was good, always a classic, although their horn section seemed weaker than what I remembered. Prezident Brown made a surprise cameo with SP (he wasn't even playing at CR) but that was short and unimpressive. Soja closed Friday, and to them, like to a lot of CA reggae, I say 'meh'. Many of the other vols were into them, so I covered RM quite happily and gave them all a big "told ya so" when they returned after unimpressed.
The girls were in bed before I even got to camp. They had a great day and that let DM come out to play for the evening.
Saturday morning was misty. There was a new masseuse who sat in her car doing makeup for an hour with her engine running (our cars were squeezed in our camp - part of the PINCH). I sent the girls on a ride on Wade's trike, a self-built tricked out psychedelic motor-trike with a blasting stereo system. Wade is a longtime RM friend, and clean and sober, so as strange as it sounds to send my teenage daughter off with a crazed biker, it was cool and the girls had a total blast.
We had one call where Fire responded probably because someone in the audience dialed 911. It was a minor call that became major because of the response, and Fire was more than happy to hand the patient off to us. The sun peaked out for a few minutes just after, as if to say 'thanks & praises'.
I caught some of Chronix, a band that's good for two songs, then gets sounding repetitive in a way like most undiscerning listeners probably characterize all reggae. Dirty Heads is such stereotypical CA reggae - another 'meh'. S came to pick up T that night (Caroline went home with her brother, the one who joined us for U2, who bought a ticket and seemed to have a grand time on his own that day). S and T stayed for Michael Franti. We got up to the VIP area on the side of stage and had a grand time. Franti was out in the audience, releasing a horde of beach balls, getting us all to chant 'all the freaky people make the beauty of the world', doing his usual theatrics. 'Twas fun. I checked my star map app and saw that Leo was right over the stage for Franti. Then my family went home.
Once again, left unchaperoned, DM could run amuck that night. He renamed the two Jeffs, supe Jeff J. became Jeffy J and the previous-known-as 'little Jeff' (a slightly derogatory name as he's short, but Jeffy J is well over six feet), him I renamed F-in Jeff (his last name begins with F). Not sure how well those will stick but we're hoping. Also renamed a way-too-talkative vol Pebbles because she ate way too many medically-laced Fruity Pebbles and had to be force fed more by decision of all the crew to get her to shut up. Later it was revealed that they were really Trix, but that wouldn't have worked for her nickname as well.
Sunday, T's BF came with T and I managed to orchestrate parking his big fat truck quite nicely. I should mention that both T's friends looked like deer in headlights for the early part of the show, but then surrendered to the riddem and had a great time. Also joining was one of T's teachers, a PhD in psychology and a volunteer Fire responder. I had her in tow for the morning, getting her oriented. She started doing some yoga and I mentioned how they usually have yoga and then we noticed it was going down right then, right across from RM, so we joined in. And it was a good class...for hippie yoga that is. She sat alongside as I talked down our biggest tripper - a shroomer who was totally oriented. We discussed buddhism, rastafarianism and the BIG PICTURE. It was amusing as talkdowns go, but I wasn't on my game. Got him back in the crowd nevertheless.
Sunday's music was lackluster. One of my JNK and I were walking towards a band and I asked who he thought it was. He replied without seeing them "another reggae band without any black people". Sure enough, he was right. I caught a lot of Tribal Seeds during a call. They were nice and bassy and made for a good soundtrack to a mediocre rescue. The highlight for me was Cypress Hill, a band that I've followed since their very beginning. They got off the best right side vs. left side battle eva - had the whole audience laughing and participating, dropping F-bombs at each other and talking smack - hilarious. They also had some great old skool scratching and a wicked bongo solo.
I got caught in this weird RM food war. Breaky and Dindin was supposed to be provided by RM. Wade, a former chef, always cooks for his friends out of his own pocket - decent food too, especially breaky; his dindin was an excellent tri-tip which I would have thoroughly enjoyed in my carnivorous incarnation. But see, there's the rub. As a pescatarian, they were going out of their way to make special food for me, despite my declinations of their offers. RM gave F-in Jeff and his sig O (who are part of my TCEC&KFTCD Dragon crew I should add) $200 to provide 6 meals for 40 vols. Do the math there. That's $5 for 6 meals. So they were struggling (and I should note that they aren't really cooks). Then they would make these special veg offerings (mac & cheese, spaghetti with veg prego) but huge amounts, like a frakking massive bowl, just for me. It was awkward. I would up buying fried calamari at one of the food stands (and that was delicious).
The downside of it all was that T came down with a bad sore throat right after. She's had a rough week - had to miss two days at school, and we bailed out of BottleRock (or I'd be there right now with her instead of writing this here). She still has a nasty cough. She's learned how to stay safe from predators at festivals, but still has to learn how to pace herself and avoid illnesses. That has taken me years and I still overdo now and again.
Shadow boxing the apocalypse