Tools Are Just Tools, But…

Borrowing a pro-grade Olympus camera for my shoot tonight at the Croc. I have an amazing friend who specializes in sports photography who lets me borrow some of his tech toys, and helps me with tips on how to use them. He’s way smarter than I’ll ever be at the photo game. This is a shot I took with his camera at Neumos. The band is On An On. It’s such an exciting feeling to use a finely crafted pro camera. I’m not as good as my friend. Wish I was!


Do Every Stupid Thing That Makes You Feel Alive

People may laugh at your tattoos
When they do get new ones in
Completely garish hues
I hide down in my corner because I like my corner
I am happy where the vermin play

The Mountain Goats (again, from the teeming mind of John Darnielle, this time from the song “Amy aka Spent Gladiator 1,” on “Transcendental Youth,” a perfect record)


Look Hard at My Stripes

In Costa Rica in a burrow underground
Climb to the surface, blink my eyes and look around
I’m all alone here as I try my tiny song
Claim my place beneath the sky but I won’t be here for long
I sang all night the moon shone on me through the trees
No brothers left and there’ll be no more after me

The Mountain Goats (from the song “Deuteronomy 2:10,” on “The Life of the World to Come”)


Come Find Me, Ghosts

On An On are the trio of Nate Eiesland, Alissa Ricci, and Ryne Estwing, from Chicago, Illinois. Once upon a time they were part of another band called Scattered Trees. I caught up with them at Neumos, in Seattle. On An On were one of two opening bands for Junip. The stage was impossibly small for so much gear which, when combined with the crazy light show, made the band look like they were playing inside some kind of spacecraft. It made my picture taking difficult as well because the house was packed and I couldn’t move from my tight position. Still, a cool band live and a cool new record (“Give In,” Roll Call Records).

Night Flight

Into the darkness
I gave away myself
Slipped on the spiral stairs
Tumbling down the well
I fell on a soft spot
I’m white heat, I’m white hot

Rowland S. Howard

[A songwriting genius, gone but not forgotten. White heat and still white hot. Be sure to watch the documentary “Autoluminescent.” Playing his Fender Jaguar, ripping into his sound and bending light and language to do his bidding. They say when someone dies they’re energy is still here, just less organized. If that’s true, Rowland must be as he always was, luminescent.]


Now Where Was I?

I’m back after what seemed ages with technical problems. Three trips to the Genius Bar (from my tiny island to Seattle) with my iMac. But now, it’s all better and so am I. I have reviews forthcoming, along with concert photos of Junip, Barbarossa, and this band, On An On (yes, I spelled that correctly, and I checked it). A friend let me borrow his amazing Olympus camera that night. Got some cool shots in blaze of strobes at Neumos in Seattle. Lots more to come. Tomorrow night I’ll be back at the Tractor to see Vancouver’s Said the Whale.