A Trip Like This...

...Usually starts with a purpose, a meaning, a catalyst... Typically there's a faulty springboard that launches three gentlemen this far into a horrible idea. This adventure is NO DIFFERENT.
I'm the faulty springboard.

For several years now, I've wanted to film a movie about barely anything at all.
For three years now, a couple of live music promoters in Nashville have been putting on, what I would call, a boutique SXSW with efforts to progress the many sounds coming out of this one time Music City.
For as long as I've known Taylor Lee, I've always wanted to reveal to him the pleasures of Nashville and the lighthearted souls that live there.
These are several of the many reasons why this undertaking has finally come to fruition.

Taylor's in search of a personal renaissance. Having lived in Houston his entire life, he's taking this opportunity to seek a breath of fresh Dirty South air. His first of many to come. Taylor boarded the plane with a smile and certain pair of psychotic eyes- eyes with the hope of something absolutely terrible happening.

I'm literally "Living my dream" right now. The idea of returning to Nashville with two of my favorite amoral mercenaries warms my heart to a crisp.
Tonight, our mission is BOOZE. I'm already ahead of the curve.

Oh yeah... I almost forgot.
And the finest & most depraved piece to this puzzle was the attendance of one, Attorney Storey. He's holding down our adventure's legal department. And mouthing off to loose women.


-- Posted from my iPhone

Day 2/Morning 3: Returning Gear

The drive to return the snare drum and cymbals Ron borrowed for his set was absolute insanity. There was cause for alarm in every direction. Ron manned the wheel. An innocent female bystander was sitting shotgun and... I was sitting in the back of my own car, freaking out about the rain and the baldness of my tires. Ron didn't seem to care, having already found comfort near the edge.

The day was filled with strange obstacles, all of which we overcame using science & wit. The Artist Village provided only the whorest of alcohol types: Red Bull & Vodka. Why whiskey wasn't offered puzzles me slightly. My assumption is they they (the puuters on of ACL FEST) assume whiskey is musicians weakness; perhaps afraid of the fact it will consumed in awesome excess.
The Artist Village at ACL is an erie foxhole. The typical artist pretension that runs high at these type of conventions keeps the village sterile and tame. No one's acting out the pressure they bring on themselves. None of them are getting drunk because, evidently, that's not cool anymore. So there's little that inspires in the Artist Village.

Day Two: The Obstacles

Ron and I have experienced technical difficulties with our search for Levon Helm. First, Kerbey Lane refused to seat us immediately and made us wait for an hour to eat. They crossed us bad. Bad.

Secondly, the rain has been stop'n'go all day. That's not really a factor until it starts to effect the performance of our cab driver that we just ordered to drop us off at the main entrance to ACL.

These setbacks pale in comparison to our will and will soon be defeated as we climb on to the main stage for The Levon Helm Band. God, protect us all. But mostly Ron and I.

Day Two: The Search For Levon Helm Begins

We're heading out now, leaving Knoxy's little house next to the railroad track that separates her from the crazy man that screams in the forest at night. Ron and I are in hot pursuit of even hotter breakfast tacos.

Ron was a little despondent when he discovered it was raining outside. All of the splendorous weather of yesterday had spoiled his expectations for the remaining weekend, in terms of "setting". But I cheered him up.

"Hey Ronnie, do you know what I love about the rain at music festivals in Austin?" I asked with a comforting tone.

"What?" he asked downtrodden in the heart.

"The bikinis."

"The bikinis?"

"The bikinis."

"THE BIKINIS!"

"That's right."

"They'll be covered in mud and water and music festival stuff," Ron said triumphantly.

"Viva ACL."

Next- breakfast tacos and a map to find Levon Helm

The Close of the First Day

So how was everyone's first day at ACL 2024?

After witnessing Dave Grohl give John Paul Jones a hug, I had the privalege of standing behind them as they played in the mystical form known as Them Crooked Vultures- a name perfectly suited for their sound. The powerhouse trio uses an intense hard rock sound to prey upon the weak minds of those that indulge in the nostalgia of a Led Zeppelin/Queens of the Stone Age/Nirvana superfantasy. I would not be surprised if these rock icons got together solely to satirize Generation X and its vain consumerism.
Generation X is far too fond of re-living the past with today's technology. Par example: making comic book movies; remaking every movie ever made; tv shows that send 80's sitcom stars to rehab and etc... Generation X doesn't do a good job of rewarding originality. They cling to the cheesy stuff from their childhood.
Karen O and The Yeah Yeah Yeahs were amazing. Karen definitely sang and performed for the screen, which was a welcome effort. She was very dramatic and lively. The soundguy was some type of horrible coward because he refused to turn up the volume; like when your dad refused to even play Guns'R'Roses on family road trips.
I go to bed now with a peace of mind that only comes from seeing a member of Led Zeppelin.
What shows should I see tomorrow?
-- Posted from my iPhone

Medeski, Martin & Wood

After brushing shoulders with John Paul Jones in the Artist Village (I was sitting a chair and gave him a "Howdy,sir". He gave me a nod and a smile.), Ron & I headed to hear the familiar sounds of Medeski, Martin & Wood.

The experience of being allowed in areas I ought not be allowed is... Luxurious, if only for the free booze, which Ron & I are pilaging outright.

The "industry talk" is also overwhelmingly vain but a welcome sacrifice given the monetary freedom.

I plan to make drunken contact with those corporate slackers at HP ROCKS OFF. They're good people. And brilliant with a good time.


-- Posted from my iPhone

A Series of Unfortunate Phone Calls

My First Entry for ACL

Supplied with a Friday Guest Pass, I've found myself behind enemy
lines, soaking up the pretentiousness of the musical arts. Image is
everything- And sometimes the product doesn't matter at all.The catering and hospitality services are top notch. Unlike anything
I've ever seen. Ron Blonde ambushed the massage therapist tent stark
naked as a jaybird; announcing to the kind lady, "I can duct tape this
thing down if you need me to. Does it frighten you?"Meanwhile, I made my way to the coffee tent and poured myself a cup,
adding Jameson for legitimacy purposes.
It's noon now. And Sarah Siskind is about to play the BMI stage.