I’m writing this very quickly over my lunch break because if I don’t do it now, I never will. It’s Bluesfest time in Ottawa, and after two years of saying we should go and totally not going, this year we’re actually going. I’ll try to keep up the daily updates, hence the urgency. If I end up getting four or five days behind I’ll be doomed.
The fest opened on Wednesday and Van Morrison was the headliner. Although we have festival wristbands, he was a late edition and they were charging extra for that show, so we said frig it and held off until last night. The whole thing is being held at Lebreton Flats, right beside the War Museum—a bit of a hike from our apartment but still doable. Thursday’s headliner was Bob Dylan. We didn’t recognize any of the acts, so he was pretty much our reason for going. I’m neither a fan nor not a fan, but how many times are you gonna get a chance to see that guy in your life?
We got there about forty minutes before Dylan came on, so we got to hear part of City and Colour’s set. Totally didn’t recognize the name and I imagine neither do you, but we recognized a few of the songs. “Save Your Scissors” you know, even if you think you don’t, and “Comin’ Home” got some airplay not so long ago. Also: apparently the lead singer is also in Alexisonfire. Who knew?
Bob Dylan was all I hoped he would be: skinny, old, weird, mostly incomprehensible, and dressed in a wide brimmed hat. I only recognized about three songs, “Rainy Day Women #12 & 35,” “All Along the Watchtower,” and “Like a Rolling Stone,” although he and his band put some additional stank into most of the songs, so it’s possible there were other songs I would have known had they not been bluesified beyond recognition.
Alright, time’s almost up. We’re going to see George Thorogood tonight, which should be a riot. Going in, I gave Dylan and Thorogood equal odds of dropping dead halfway through their set, but Dylan’s tougher than I imagined. He’s all wiry and weathered. I suspect if you dropped him off in the middle of the desert for a week without food or water, he’d emerge looking exactly the same as he went in.
The fest opened on Wednesday and Van Morrison was the headliner. Although we have festival wristbands, he was a late edition and they were charging extra for that show, so we said frig it and held off until last night. The whole thing is being held at Lebreton Flats, right beside the War Museum—a bit of a hike from our apartment but still doable. Thursday’s headliner was Bob Dylan. We didn’t recognize any of the acts, so he was pretty much our reason for going. I’m neither a fan nor not a fan, but how many times are you gonna get a chance to see that guy in your life?
We got there about forty minutes before Dylan came on, so we got to hear part of City and Colour’s set. Totally didn’t recognize the name and I imagine neither do you, but we recognized a few of the songs. “Save Your Scissors” you know, even if you think you don’t, and “Comin’ Home” got some airplay not so long ago. Also: apparently the lead singer is also in Alexisonfire. Who knew?
Bob Dylan was all I hoped he would be: skinny, old, weird, mostly incomprehensible, and dressed in a wide brimmed hat. I only recognized about three songs, “Rainy Day Women #12 & 35,” “All Along the Watchtower,” and “Like a Rolling Stone,” although he and his band put some additional stank into most of the songs, so it’s possible there were other songs I would have known had they not been bluesified beyond recognition.
Alright, time’s almost up. We’re going to see George Thorogood tonight, which should be a riot. Going in, I gave Dylan and Thorogood equal odds of dropping dead halfway through their set, but Dylan’s tougher than I imagined. He’s all wiry and weathered. I suspect if you dropped him off in the middle of the desert for a week without food or water, he’d emerge looking exactly the same as he went in.
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