So I’m a day behind, but Wednesday was a one-band day so I haven’t totally screwed myself. Bluesfest fatigue is setting in something fierce. We’re enjoying ourselves a lot, but damn I’ll be glad when this is over.
Wednesday was especially tiring because we played soccer before heading over. Our rec team (nameless no longer—we are The Wünderdogs!) played its first game of the summer season, and we kicked some serious ass. In the interest of full disclosure, the team we played had only met one another ten minutes before the game started, and we’d just picked up a new teammate who’s been playing soccer for 17 years, but whatever—our having won is the important part. And then we dragged our asses out to Lebreton to see the Steve Miller Band. They were fantastic, man. They sound exactly the same, and they played everything you’d want them to. Sarah’s favourite song is “Jet Airliner,” which is now also my favourite song. Just by the title, I always get it confused with something slow and psychedelic-sounding, but it turns out that the real song is start-to-finish wicked. Isha also discovered her favourite song, and that revelation went something like this. “This song rocks! This song is rockin’! This song is rockin’ me, baby!”
Thursday’s headliner was Blue Rodeo, a band we’ve seen more times than any other (in high school we had a bit of a Blue Rodeo stage). We showed up a little earlier and caught most of Robert Cray’s set. He’s a really talented blues musician (at Bluesfest, even—who knew?), but this late in the game our skills of attention aren’t as well-honed anymore, so we heard his set but didn’t really hear it. Then Blue Rodeo came on. They’re a band I’m a little ashamed of still liking, although I don’t have a good reason for that. I’ve had a few Blue Rodeo hiatuses in my life, and in these times I convince myself I’m totally over them and never really dug them in the first place. But I always remember that I’m wrong. Jim Cuddy rules. I’ve never been a Greg Kellor fan, though. Dude loves his twelve minute jam sessions, and although he didn’t do it this time, he used to actually sit down on an amp as his solo dirged on. I have a huge hate-on for Diamond Mine, possible the worst masturbatory-guitar-solo offender, and when that came on we split for the River Stage to catch Xavier Rudd. Xavier Rudd is a one-man band that puts A. Frank Willis to shame (that’s such a Newfie in-joke). He alternates between playing the guitar around his neck and the bass on his lap, plays drums with his feet, and then throws in a little didgeridoo (he’s got three of them resting near by). And this goes beyond novelty; he actually plays really listenable music. Would you believe he played a pretty sweet version of Black Sabbath’s “Iron Man?” Well, believe it.
After watching about twenty minutes of Xavier Rudd, we figured “Diamond Mine” might actually be over, so we caught the rest of Blue Rodeo. They played “Head Over Heels” for the first time in the near dozen times we’ve seen them, which was cool because it’s the closest thing to ‘our song’ that Sarah and I have (because when we started dating our musically tastes were pretty complimentary and there were about thirty contenders for the honoured position of ‘our song.’ “Head Over Heels” remains in the lead because, in the first year we were dating, Sarah made me listen to it about seven billion times.)
Wednesday was especially tiring because we played soccer before heading over. Our rec team (nameless no longer—we are The Wünderdogs!) played its first game of the summer season, and we kicked some serious ass. In the interest of full disclosure, the team we played had only met one another ten minutes before the game started, and we’d just picked up a new teammate who’s been playing soccer for 17 years, but whatever—our having won is the important part. And then we dragged our asses out to Lebreton to see the Steve Miller Band. They were fantastic, man. They sound exactly the same, and they played everything you’d want them to. Sarah’s favourite song is “Jet Airliner,” which is now also my favourite song. Just by the title, I always get it confused with something slow and psychedelic-sounding, but it turns out that the real song is start-to-finish wicked. Isha also discovered her favourite song, and that revelation went something like this. “This song rocks! This song is rockin’! This song is rockin’ me, baby!”
Thursday’s headliner was Blue Rodeo, a band we’ve seen more times than any other (in high school we had a bit of a Blue Rodeo stage). We showed up a little earlier and caught most of Robert Cray’s set. He’s a really talented blues musician (at Bluesfest, even—who knew?), but this late in the game our skills of attention aren’t as well-honed anymore, so we heard his set but didn’t really hear it. Then Blue Rodeo came on. They’re a band I’m a little ashamed of still liking, although I don’t have a good reason for that. I’ve had a few Blue Rodeo hiatuses in my life, and in these times I convince myself I’m totally over them and never really dug them in the first place. But I always remember that I’m wrong. Jim Cuddy rules. I’ve never been a Greg Kellor fan, though. Dude loves his twelve minute jam sessions, and although he didn’t do it this time, he used to actually sit down on an amp as his solo dirged on. I have a huge hate-on for Diamond Mine, possible the worst masturbatory-guitar-solo offender, and when that came on we split for the River Stage to catch Xavier Rudd. Xavier Rudd is a one-man band that puts A. Frank Willis to shame (that’s such a Newfie in-joke). He alternates between playing the guitar around his neck and the bass on his lap, plays drums with his feet, and then throws in a little didgeridoo (he’s got three of them resting near by). And this goes beyond novelty; he actually plays really listenable music. Would you believe he played a pretty sweet version of Black Sabbath’s “Iron Man?” Well, believe it.
After watching about twenty minutes of Xavier Rudd, we figured “Diamond Mine” might actually be over, so we caught the rest of Blue Rodeo. They played “Head Over Heels” for the first time in the near dozen times we’ve seen them, which was cool because it’s the closest thing to ‘our song’ that Sarah and I have (because when we started dating our musically tastes were pretty complimentary and there were about thirty contenders for the honoured position of ‘our song.’ “Head Over Heels” remains in the lead because, in the first year we were dating, Sarah made me listen to it about seven billion times.)
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