And that’s a wrap. Festival season, over.
I didn’t attend half of the events I would’ve liked to this summer, and I still shambled onto Treasure Island with a severe case of Festival Fatigue. It’s a shame, too, because this has always been my favorite place to spend time outdoors with music, food, and friends. The vibe is great, the views are incredible, and the lineups have typically been a great mix of established acts and exciting up-and-comers. This year was no exception, and even though I only went one day, I wish I had been able to muster up just a little more energy and enthusiasm. Oh look. I just got old. There were bands that I had seen before and was happy to hear again, like Bleached, TV On The Radio, and The New Pornographers. There were bands that I liked more after seeing them live for the first time, like Polica and Washed Out; and bands that I liked a little less after their performance, like The Growlers. My first exposure to Asgeir was positive. My initial reaction to alt-j was lukewarm.
But this wasn’t ever meant to be a blog reviewing bands or shows or festivals, no matter the appearance and despite frequent detours into old habits and tendencies. It’s a journal of observations and self-awareness. An attempt to examine myself by examining one of my defining interests. And maybe, in the process, I’ll come up with a better definition. A more complete, capable, version 2.0. Do I still love live music? Of course I do. Chet Faker helped remind me of that. Get ready for your closeup, Mr. Faker. You seem to me like someone who may not realize how big he already is, or how big he’s about to become. From making beats in your “gah-raj” three years ago, to the most hotly anticipated Sunday set, one hour from sundown.
At the end of the summer, I think it’s all about quality over quantity for me. I would have much rather paid the 80 bucks to see Faker play all night (ironically, that’s precisely how much the scenester scalpers were getting for his gig at The Independent earlier this year). And, to be honest, I’m more excited about seeing The Rural Alberta Advantage on Monday night than I was heading into Sunday’s festivities.
It’s just seasonal. It has to be.
But I guess I won’t know for sure until April of next year.
Right after running a marathon, my response to being asked if I’d do another one has always been: no, I’m done. Invariably, a week or two later, my knees stop hurting and I’m game for another race. Ask me a few weeks from now if I’d dare consider Coachella, finally, and…
Well. I guess we’ll wait and see. Observations await. My knees need time to recoup.