After taking a bus downtown, I exited Main Street Station just in time to catch a rainstorm. Which, I thought to myself, is a promising sign for the days ahead. And, regarding our bus system: I highly recommend using it. I noticed several open-air parking lots rendered unusable by the tents set up for the various Forts, dozens of metered parking spots along the streets with temporary “No Parking” orders, and heard more than one Festival-goer complaining about the nightmare of finding a parking spot. And mind you, this was Wednesday. Friday and Saturday will be worse. So hire an Uber, or Lyft, or take a taxi, or–if you’re saving your $ for beer, like me–ride the bus.
But I digress. I hustled down to the Owyhee to pick up my wristband, then hoofed it through the rain a few blocks to the Linen Building, where I caught a set by local trio Preakedness. The mix of old Fender Rhodes organ and 80s-sounding synths was quite nice, and the thick fuzz of the bass kept me from bemoaning the band’s lack of guitar.
After that set, I strolled back over to 11th Street, to drop off some of our Jet Black zines and check out how busy the Neurolux was. It was packed, and as such, I wandered around until the smells of the various food carts started making me peckish. There’s no lack of killer food downtown any time of year, but during Treefort, the volume gets turned up to 11. On a budget, I opted to go home and eat before I caught any more shows.
Cut to a few hours later. I was walking thru the alley between Neurolux and the neighboring hotel, and, when I got to the end, I smelled the overpowering scent of fresh spraypaint. Lo and behold, it was the artists of Sector Seventeen working on a huge mural on the parking lot side of the Record Exchange.
The lighting in my photo is pretty lousy, and of course the artists have only just begun working, but I will make a point of taking a pic of this mural every day, so you can see how the work progresses.
And, speaking of art, there’s plenty to be had around town right now. I passed the Modern Hotel on my way back to the Linen Building, and noticed that the entire back side is covered in a fresh mural. I’ve included a few close-ups of some of the mural, because seeing it all from a distance simply doesn’t do the work justice.
I arrived at my destination in time to catch Canadian 4-piece Jo Passed. This band was fantastic. The drummer was superb, the dual-guitar sound was killer, and I really enjoyed the singer’s voice. After their set, I wandered over to their merch table to drunkenly gush about how much I liked them. They were amiable enough, and I noticed the girl who played bass was drawing dozen of cartoonish looking pictures of mostly male genitalia, although I did see one vagina in there, as well.
Next up was Crosss, [Note: That isn’t a typo. It’s actually spelled with three S’s, for whatever reason.] also from Canada. These guys are another fine act, if psychedelic doom rock is your thing. It is most definitely my thing. Plus, I always appreciate watching a left-handed guitarist playing a guitar strung for a right-hander. It’s disorienting as hell, in a pleasant sort of way.
But the piece-de-resistance of the evening was the next act: local mainstay Brett Netson. Armed with a weird old Moog pedal board and four drummers whomping on floor toms and snares, Netson’s performance was exactly what a fan would expect: echoey, drone-laden, spacey mindfuckery. There were several candles burning on top of the amps and someone had burnt some sage, which took me back to the old Caustic Resin shows of 1992. It was spectacular. [
More news tomorrow, folks. So stay tuned.
Oh, and I left a bunch of zines at Spacebar, if anyone wants to go find one.