Holy shit, I am snotting my face off, and the situation with my bowel movements is quite horrid, and the shivering then sweating that my body has been doing for the last twenty-four hours has been wicket-awesome (ed. note: not).  When Gorilla took off for the Beast Coast he left behind this asshole of a cold via tons of little snot rags lying around my car and house.  Hence forth the asshole of a cold jumped into my Adonis-like personage and quickly crippled my desire to do anything but blow my nose and sleep.  That’s of course this morning, last night when I was feeling the onset, and new that I should be resting and heading this snot-fest off at the jump, I decided it was probably a better idea to skip the tea and bed-rest, and instead bike down to the Santa Monica pier to see Dawes and Sonny and the Sunsets.  I figured substituting cold air for a warm blanket, could be balanced out by substituting fire-water for Robitusin.  Clearly I was wrong, but I’m still not that upset about it.

                I’m usually a bit wary of the pier concert series.  My recollection is that they get crowded, that Johnny Law is milling about killing buzzes, and the music is often nothing I’m interested in.  However, both bands that played last night are bands that I dig on.  Sonny and the Sunsets I know via their very enjoyable track “To Young to Burn.” Having come on KXLU radio, it caught my attention, and so I used my song identifier application thingy on the phone and I found out who sang that shit.  In fact, that was the first time I used that application successfully (ed. note: pretty cool).  Dawes I know via them being awesome, nuff said.

                Last night we posted-up on a blanket on the beach below the pier.  That’s the move that people pull at this shindig.  Bring a little booze, bring a little squeef, yap a lot more than you listen to the music.  That was fine and well for Sony and the Sunsets.  They didn’t play my jam, or at least, I didn’t hear it.  They played a couple others that I know and enjoy, but for the most part I talked away their set, which is fine.  Sometimes it’s just nice to have music close by.

                When Dawes came on I felt the urge to stand up, and immediately noticed that the sound from the speakers was much more audible when I stood above all of the chatters.  The pleasant sounds from the band encouraged me and a couple friends to go onto the pier and get close to the stage.  Interestingly enough, this was a pretty easy task.  Now, it could be that I just haven’t been to enough of the pier concert series to know what’s up, but from what I recall, it’s usually tough to navigate the crowd at these shows.  The relative ease that I did it with last night surprised me, because this was a damn good band.  It didn’t seem like much of the yout from the east side  of town huffed it over to catch the show.  They must use the same reasoning that I apply when I refuse to get off of the couch to go check out a good show on their side of town, it’s far, and driving sucks.  It was just a momentary thought though, merely because I found it odd that this band didn’t draw a big crowd.

                I say they’re good because they are.  One of my friends kept saying that they sound country, and I guess towards the end I could kind of agree with her.  They sound like good country, though.  Lead singer Taylor Goldsmith controls the show with his voice, and much like in country music, the vocals and lyrics are at the forefront of the show.  They played the song “Time Spent in Los Angeles,” and damn that was a good cut.  When he broke out that chorus,

“But you got that special kind of sadness
you got that tragic set of charms
that only comes from time spent in Los Angeles”

Damn that was nice.  I mean, listen to that on a chilly night in Los Angeles, on the Santa Monica Pier with a sliver moon and some friends, and then tell me it isn’t damn nice (ed. note: I would reply that you are damn dumb).  Throw in the fact that Jackson Browne came out for the encore, a fully inspired “A Little Bit of Everything,” and shit man, I will happily lie in bed blowing neon shit out my face and recovering from a cold that I probably wouldn’t have if I’d skipped it and stuck to soup.

Thanks to the dudes in front of us that awkwardly danced the night away.  When they got on their friends’ shoulders and held one another while swaying, that was uncomfortable for all of us involved.  It was great.

Thanks to the dude in that Iron Maiden Shirt right there.  That Iron Maiden Shirt right there is fucking awesome!

Thanks also to officer Buzzcut who walked up to scold some chick next to us for smoking a ciggie on the beach only moments after the spliff went kaput.  First and foremost for keeping those cancer sticks from my face and out the sand, secondly, for your impeccable timing, because we all know, it’s all about the timing.


Quote for the Day

Me to the father of me – “Happy birthday.” 

Pop’s Response – “Don’t fuckin’ talk about that.”

Me – “At least you’re 69.”

Pops – “Yeah, I guess that’s good number to be.”

– Track for the Day: “Wasted Words” off of the Allman Brother’s Band’s Brothers and Sisters


Links for the Day:

Grimy Chicks Rockin’ out in a trailer park, I’m down.  (via The Fader)

Some things are just nice (via Glide)

One man hammer dulcimer band/shit yeah they used to rock like that in Beer City! (via NPR)

Wakka + Luda = WakkaLuda (via The Fader)

Damn, not quite sure what I think of this, scary that how it works (via American Songwriter)

This one’s just as funny (via American Songwriter)

For Chach (via Prefix)

Philosophus Brooklyn? (via Prefix)

Tomorrow is also Jam Van day, so get ready, for Eastern Conference Champions, Skyline Drive, and Otis Heat, it’s gonna get stanky up in that van, stanky from Rock’n’Roll!