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One of the THREE votes we got to throw the annual summertime blast:
>What can I say... If you have the shindig a few miles up the road, I will
>be there. I don't think I have run across a group of more friendly, open
>folks who enjoy a good time then the people I ran into at the last get
>together. Enjoy hearing about your exploits abroad and looking forward to
>getting together (hopefully) in July.
However, despite the quality what I really need is QUANTITY - I’m not gonna work my ass off all spring to throw the end-all beat-all bash without a “HELL YEAH!!! I want beer, barbecue, bands and explosives!” from a fuckin’ BUNCH of people!
I am more than willing to have it July 10, Saturday, if July 4 presents a problem for people. I don’t want to have to compete with your lame-o family-oriented yawns provided by the local mall.
The point may be moot, however. After further investigation I don’t think the alternate site for the party is going to work. So, in addition to your votes I NEED A LOCATION - all we need is a good sized yard and power. Hell, a cow pasture and 8 extension cords would work! Email us clues! If this is gonna happen I have to start organizing THIS WEEK.

I was wondering if I shouldn’t have gotten downtown for Music Midtown when I caught the AJC cover - 40 billion people crammed in like sardines on concrete! “Gee, that looks worth it.” I said to myself, sarcastically.
Friday we headed down to the Star Bar, just to get out and about. The Illbilly Boys from Wilmington, NC took the stage. There wasn’t much of a crowd, between the Masses Midtown and the weather, but the Illbillys didn’t let the empty floor dampen their spirits. They charged out with their mix of 60% rockabilly, 10% Link Wray, 10% metal, 10% Cramps. Along with their own fabulous tunes they threw in a dash of weird covers like The Munsters theme and The Crusher. Satisfying!
I though I’d seen Glenmont Popes before, but when the three piece from Baltimore cranked up it was nothing like I’d seen before. They had a vague rockabilly look and aftertaste, like 10% rockabilly, but the main ingredients were big chunks of blues and hearty metal, like Chuck Berry angry, drunk and coked-up. Fuckin’ BRUTAL guitar, so loud and fast I thought the guy’s fingers might catch fire any minute. His Joe Cocker faces added to the image and I didn’t regret NOT forking out the dough and elbowing my way through the Mangled Midtown for one second!
Saturday I rolled out of bed and headed for the park so I could be counted by The Man at the Marijuana Legalization Festival. Many years ago the fest drew thousands. The park would overflow with tie die and the smoke wafted across all Midtown.
Well, the smoke has cleared and Bill Campbell is the only man standing. This year’s pot “fest” weekend the park was hardly more crowded than on any sunny Saturday, perhaps less so. Maybe peple didn’t know the weather was perfect. Maybe they were all at Mediocre Midtown.
Probably not.
No big name act to draw the crowds was probably the biggest factor. I’m sure the massive arrists of the last fest didn’t help.
I fondly recalled the days with The Black Crowes or Cyprus Hill rocked the park. Year by year The Man’s presence became more and more intense, however, and the year I sat in the back and watched the mounted police, the Red Dog drug unit, and the helicopters hovering overhead made the point plain to me - this was no “festival” any more. No, it’s a facist ACTION.
But a few protestors, or festival goers, showed up this time. The parade from City Hall arrived and people sat and watched eachother and the police while a band played on a flatbed truck. This time the city had figured out, yet again, how they could deny a festival license - no off-duty police would volunteer to provide security. However, the city did order around ONE HUNDRED officers to make the area “secure.” The excessive police presence generated minimal police action that I saw. Only two arrests in the couple of hours I observed, despite the illicit drug use obvious to anyone that wanted to look. But that didn’t satisfy the organizer of the festival, Paul Cornwell, who got on stage and ranted for 20 minutes about the lawsuit he was going to start up, again. Many of his points were on target, but his one-liners were great, “Welcome to the wiser bud fest.”
Johnny Prophet, a local funk speed metal band, cranked up and struggled with the flakey sound equipment, followed by more propoganda by the Libertarian party, followed by the lead singer of Drivin’ N’ Cryin doing an acoustic set. I couldn’t take the blistering sun, boring music, and endless propoganda any more and headed out of the park just in time to watch them load the first P.O.W.s in the War On Drugs into the prison bus the APD brought.
Sunday what could be better than Sean Costello on stage, cold beer on tap, NASCAR on the tube and free jambalaya on the table? Not a damn thing, particularly for FREE. Nothside Tavern hosts the boy wonder every Sunday for a free show. A bunch of other bluesmen got up and jammed, providing moments of sheer joy, over the course of the night and by 1 AM I was so blue I was almost black (pun only slightly intended.)
Sean plays every Sunday at Northside, and Mondays at Fat Matt’s for those that don’t like the lower-classiness of Northside.

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