Friday the 13th

People usually associate Friday the thirteenth with bad luck, but I've found that all of the expected negative energy makes people focus more on all of the good things that happen to them on this particularly interesting non-holiday. For me, Friday was the start of a great weekend, which included my first time ever participating in a parade (the Ferndale Green Cruise), dinner with my parents, an awesome new sweatshirt (bought as a pre-emptive strike against my yearly impulse to buy one in the Fall), seeing Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World (which will likely earn its own entry, as it trumped Inception for best movie of the year in my opinion) and brunch at Lily's Seafood on Sunday. One of the best of the summer so far.

A couple of my friends who are in like a million bands were having a CD release Friday night for two of them, Jura and Indian Guides. I had been wanting to see Jura for a long time, and Mother Whale was opening, another band that a couple of my friends are in. I was all prepared to go solo but my roommate agreed to tag along. The show was at Alvin's, a venue I'd never been to. It didn't really seem like my kind of place, with guitars on the walls and a stage larger than the ones my usual independent, local favorites would play on. On a different night, I would expect to see motorcycles parked outside the front patio, which did look like it would be a nice place to have dinner. On that note, without seeing the menu, I imagine they serve a lot of greasy bar food. Well, there's a time and a place for everything.

Mother Whale's set started with seemingly random drum bangs supplemented by a Moog synthesizer. As the sound developed itself, it gave the impression of an alien whale, calling to the audience from the stage that it was preparing an attack; not with violence or wit, but with sheer, overwhelming size. Their second song featured an urgent drum beat which acted as a war march for the suggested invasion. As guitar was added, the Moog shifted to a bone shaking bass line. At the time I was jotting in my notebook and shot my head up at the sound, the hook was so powerful and grabbing. Each of the guys took turns at vocal passages, none of which really carried the particular song, but rather serve as another muted instrument placed with caution among the hail of heavy sonics. When their set ended, my roommate said that he thought it seemed really long. To me it was very short.

As they took down their equipment, I was reminded of a time that I was at Mr. Mugs which used to be in downtown Ypsilanti, the first rock venue I went to when I was in high school. I had arrived early to a show and was one of few in the audience when the first band finished playing. They were obviously touring around various cities and I could see them taking their equipment offstage and directly into their van parked outside. The guys in the band couldn't have been much older than me, if they were at all. Standing right in front of the stage and seeing the drummer take apart his kit, I asked if I could offer them a hand carrying stuff. They were quick to accept and gave friendly thanks which were all I was after; just glad to lend a hand. While I still feel the same urges to be of assistance, I feel like acceptance for that sort of help wanes as we grow older. I can understand the independence of wanting to do things for yourself. More than that, though, I believe in the positive energy in the gift of receiving. Too often these days I feel that people don't expect kindness unattached from ulterior motives. That is a sad thought, and I refuse to give in to it.

Speaking of high school days, when I got up to go to the bathroom, I walked past a guy in a Rage Against The Machine t-shirt. Do people really still wear those?

I was unaware that Indian Guides played next, because I knew that my friends were in Jura when they took the stage. Turns out they are in both bands, and having seen both, I think I like Indian Guides a little more. Though I was physically tired from six long days of work, and Indian Guide's songs were very dreamy, the two feelings did not connect and I was very awake, even as I closed my eyes and enjoyed their set. Too often I treat music as an addition to what I am doing rather than making it the focus. Even as I type this entry I am listening to Zero Zero's AM Gold, but the majority of my attention is on writing. Whenever I make the effort to simply appreciate music it feels well worth it. Seeing bands live certainly helps, and though I couldn't completely do that at the show, I very much enjoyed Indian Guides for being something that I wanted to simply focus on.

When I felt like dividing my attention, I opted for experimenting with my digital camera. In the low light, the lens had to remain open for several moments, during which I found that I could move the camera and create very interesting images: