Radiohead

(Editor’s note: This is the last of three posts about this past Saturday, which was jam-packed with great music. Click here for the first post, which talked about meeting the stepdad of Jeremy Salken from Big Gigantic, and click here for the second post, which chronicled the fantastic Trillions CD release show at Gallery 5.)

The world is a tiny place. It used to be big. Huge even! So huge that we didn’t even know the fucker was round! Crazy, right? Now it’s so small that I can write a blog post about meeting the stepdad of a famous musician and hear back from that musician via Twitter in a matter of minutes. And it’s so small that we can be several places at once. Thanks to the world wide web of information, just as we can watch every single game of the NCAA basketball tournament, we can now attend music festivals from thousands of miles away, and last weekend was a great example. Throughout the weekend, Coachella was webcasting performances, 3 at a time, and I was in heaven. And though I’m not going to argue that watching on my laptop beats being there in person, there is one HUGE advantage.

I’ve been to Bonnaroo twice, in 2004 and 2005, and one of the most difficult things about the monster music festival experience (aside from not showering for 3 days and being around other people who haven’t showered in 3 days) is the decision-making. One band vs. another that’s scheduled to play at the same time. It’s downright painful in the moment, and there’s around a 95% chance that you will despise your decision a few years later (Jack Johnson over the Black Crowes haunts me to this day). But there I was on Friday night, zooming from Dawes to Arctic Monkeys and back in the blink of an eye. Like I said, heaven. But Saturday was a little more stressful. As I left the Trillions’ CD release show, holding two new CDs, one sticker and a whole mess of excitement, I was also lugging around a serious sense of urgency.

Thank you!!!

When I realized I was approaching my 100th You Hear That post, it took me approximately .0382 milliseconds to decide what I wanted to say and what song could help me say it. I’d like to take this opportunity to say a huge and heartfelt thank you to all the amazing people who have supported this blog since I started writing it in March. Whether you have taken time out of your day to read a post, submit a comment, retweet a link, make a suggestion, read a draft (I’m looking at you, Mrs. YHT), write a guest post or include me in your blogroll, I want you to know that these gestures brighten my day tremendously and breathe life into a venture that brings me an immeasurable amount of joy. Talking about music is one of my favorite things in the entire universe, and, to paraphrase Sly Stone, you all let me be myself day after day by entertaining my reactions, recommendations and (often way-over-the-top) enthusiasm. I can’t wait to see what the next hundred posts will bring, and I sincerely hope you’ll continue reading and sharing your thoughts as we find out together. Before going any further, I have a confession to make about “Thank You (Falettinme Be Mice Elf Agin).” My relationship with the song didn’t start with Sly and the Family Stone’s original version — it began when Dave Matthews and Friends (which featured Trey Anastasio and Tim Reynolds on dueling/feuding lead guitars) performed an 18-minute cover version to close their headlining set at Bonnaroo in 2004. Right now you may be saying to yourself, “Geez, 18 minutes? That seems excessive…” Well, you’d be right, and I’m pretty sure Dave Matthews would agree with you. Neither Anastasio nor Reynolds would let the other get the last guitar solo word, and from where I was standing (admittedly, about 100 yards away), it looked like Matthews started shouting at Reynolds to get him to stop playing his instrument. Good times! I hope you enjoy Sly’s (considerably shorter) version above, and thank you thank you thank you falettinme be mice elf. Agin.

Old Crow Medicine Show

It’s a holiday weekend. The weather is perfect. The grill is ready to light and your friends are on their way over, but you were too busy and/or lazy to make a playlist for the occasion. So, who is your go-to band? Who can you count on to set the right mood, so you don’t have to keep running over from the grill to skip all the embarrassing songs that come on when your iPod is set to random? For me, there’s an easy answer: Old Crow Medicine Show. How I started listening to Old Crow stands in perfect contrast to yesterday’s post about Delicate Steve. There are no press releases here, no lessons about public relations or authenticity, just a simple story about hearing a band for the first time and instantly connecting. At Bonnaroo in 2005, I happened to wander over to the tent where Old Crow was playing. To this day, I can remember so distinctly the feeling that their songs felt like old friends I just hadn’t met yet. Their performance was raucous (I swear their shows have gotten even crazier – last time I saw them at the National, people were crowdsurfing … to bluegrass), but their blend of roots music and Americana carried a soulful undercurrent that resonated deeply, and still does today. As a tribute to all the cookouts that will be happening this weekend, check out their song “Humdinger,” which chronicles a nice little get-together.

Just kidding it’s about an out-of-control, 700-person celebration of “wine, whiskey, women and guns.”