I hope you’re sitting down for this shocking (general) admission: I like going to concerts. A lot. It’s second only to pickleball in the list of ways I spend my leisure time.
Last year I made it to 43 concerts. That will probably be my all-time high water mark. But it’s not for a lack of trying. This last stretch of a week-plus has been quite a run.
Last weekend, it was the Nelsonville Music Festival, on a farm near Nelsonville, Ohio. Which is near Athens (Ohio), home of Joe Burrow. It’s about 2.5 hours east of Cincy. Three glorious (albeit extremely hot) days of music on three stages.
The 3-day event Billboard magazine calls “one of the best-kept secrets of the U.S. music festival circuit” offers a diverse lineup of 40+ national, regional, and local acts from a variety of genres in an intimate setting, along with camping, kid’s activities, unique artisan and retail vendors, local food, and more!
NMF is a production of Stuart’s Opera House, a non-profit historic theater and performing arts center in Nelsonville. All proceeds raised at the festival directly support Stuart’s Opera House, including its tuition-free Arts Education programs.
That Friday evening run – MJ Lenderman, The Bug Club, Waxahatchee, and Dehd – was as good as it gets. Waxahatchee’s set was note-perfect, literally and figuratively.
Saturday’s lineup wasn’t as suited to my admittedly-weird musical tastes, but Low Cut Connie always brings the energy, and I also enjoyed the sets from Gardener, Styrofoam Winos, and Being Dead.
Mrs. Dubbatrubba was taking one for the team by joining me that day. (It was our wedding anniversary – she’s a saint!)
You could count on… let’s see… zero… zero fingers… the number of artists she’d ever heard of, much less heard, so we cut out a bit early to grab a dinner at Little Fish Brewing Co. in Athens. (Thanks to the great reco from our friends Matt and Pam, who were at Nelsonville with two of their kids. Food and atmosphere were top-notch!)
On Sunday morning, I managed to sneak in a hike before heading to Nelsonville.
It was heat-advisory hot once again, but one of Nelsonville’s three stages has trees nearby, and another (Creekside) is in the woods, with “hammock zones” even! Very chill.
Garrett T. Capps & NASA Country and Ryan Davis & the Roadhouse Band were the undercard highlights for me. I really wanted to stick around for Taj Mahal’s set, but discretion is the better part of valor. With a 2.5 hour drive ahead of me after a full weekend of music, I headed for home around 5:30.
There’s no rest for the weary: last Tuesday, I saw Devo at an indoor show in downtown Cincinnati. I’d never seen them before, and always wanted to. Their set was exactly what you’d want from those wacky kids from Akron (who are now in their 70s!). I loved every second of it!
On Thursday, it was The Rush Tribute Project at Memorial Hall, a gorgeous Samuel Hannaford & Sons-designed 556-seat music hall built in 1908 and loving restored in 2016.
My buddy Craig and I were pretty much in seats 555 and 556…. the very last row of the balcony. But there truly isn’t a bad seat in the house.
I hadn’t planned to go originally. I’m such a Rush fan that part of me wanted to keep my memories of the countless concerts of theirs that I saw “pure.”
But Craig texted me the day before and I signed on. After all, Neil Peart isn’t coming back, and those songs still mean a lot to me.
Yes, the Rush Tribute Project is a tribute band, but they really nailed the songs, which is no small feat when you’re dealing with Rush’s complex arrangements and time signatures. And they gave fans their money’s worth – 27 songs over two sets.
My tour of tours wrapped up on Saturday, at a barn in Martinsville, Ohio.
The husband and wife who comprise the band Over the Rhine (they got their name from the historic district just north of downtown Cincinnati) bought a farm about an hour northeast of Cincinnati several years ago, and lovingly restored the barn on site to turn it into a really cool performance space.
Mrs. Dubbatrubba, our friend Heather, and I drove up to see Patty Griffin, one of our favorite singer-songwriters.
Over the Rhine did a short opening set too. Such a unique and soul-nourishing experience!
Now, it’s time for a bit of rest from the concert scene.
Although Steve Earle is doing an acoustic tour that’s coming through town on Sunday…
I sincerely think that humor will help save humanity from the swamp into which it is sinking. Today we can’t afford to be pessimistic, so let’s try to keep a sense of humor bolted on to our hearts, soul, and spirit!
Jean-Jacques Perrey (1929-2016)
I’m here for it, Jean-Jacques!
It’s super-easy to be pessimistic these days. But don’t let the swamp thing get you!
Fight back, with a smile or a joke. Even a lame Dad Joke will suffice.
Monday isn’t usually a fun day. Back to the daily grind. But it doesn’t have to be that way.
I can’t tell you how many mindless meetings I’ve endured in my work life. I can tell you that in most of them, I’ve tried to add a bit of levity to the mix. Because life’s too short. And it’s a bit wacky too, when you stop and think about it.
And the best thing you’ve ever done for me
Is to help me take my life less seriously
Its only life after all
“Closer to Fine” by the Indigo Girls
Here’s your humor helper for today. Guaranteed to bring a smile to your face. Then it’s up to you to share that smile.
I played pickleball yesterday. As is the custom of the elders.
Some of my friends think I play too much.
(It IS a lie. I played this morning too!) But the reality is I only play on days ending with a “y.”
Yesterday afternoon, I played at a place called PickleBarn. Not to be confused with Pickle Lodge. (I’ve played there before too!) It’s called PickleBarn because:
a. All of the good names were taken
b. It’s two courts inside a pole barn structure.
(The two women who own Pickle Barn had originally intended to renovate the old house on the property and turn it into a rental. But after they bought it, they discovered the land was zoned commercial. Life handed them lemons, and they turned it into a business with lemon-colored plastic balls.)
PickleBarn has a Bluetooth speaker on site so you can connect your phone and listen to some music while you’re playing. One of the dudes I was playing with yesterday hooked up his phone and started playing a bunch of tunes that were… how can I say this diplomatically… boring as heck!
Sorry, but it’s tough to get hyped for some intense pickleball action (perhaps an oxymoron) when you’re listening to Sweet Baby James Taylor and John Denver and Jim Croce.
The songs on his playlist were the polar opposite of “Jock Jams.”
It got me to thinking about what songs I’d want on my own jock jams playlist. Those songs that, when I hear them, get me hyped.
This one is probably my favorite. It’s a bit of a leftfield choice, but that’s how I’m wired.
Creedence Clearwater Revival’s “Travelin’ Band” would be on there too. Some Ramones. Definitely Superchunk’s “Digging for Something.” “Makes No Sense at All” by Hüsker Dü. “Max, Jill Called” by The Bicycle Thief.. OK, these are all leftfield picks. So be it.
I think I should put all MY jock jams into a playlist and play it the next time I’m at PickleBarn… my opponents will be so busy wondering “what sort of weird music is this?” that they won’t be able to concentrate on the game.
Pickleball is my jam. With my jams going, it’ll be even more of a jam!
[Today I’m reposting the post below, from two years ago, because I’ve started relistening to the Valley Heat podcast (and some of the newer episodes from the companion Good Morning, Burbank show) and nothing has made me laugh more. And I think we all could use some good laughs these days.]
This post was originally published on April 25, 2022…
I’m late to the game on this podcast (sorry, I lead a sheltered life), but Valley Heat is the funniest thing I’ve heard in a long time.
It’s like A Confederacy of Dunces meets Arrested Development meets Fernwood 2 Night…. Doug’s deadpan delivery, a wacky cast of characters, fun music references, the bogus promo spots, and great theater-of-the-mind audio all combine to create a perfect storm of humor. Every element is note-perfect!
It’s a bit tough to explain because the folks responsible for the podcast have created a whole wacky world within a Burbank, California neighborhood. The protagonist, Doug, ostensibly is trying to crack the case of who is using his garbage can as a drug drop. But really that’s just a doorway to all sorts of shenanigans involving an accident-prone attorney, a house that’s also a nightclub/arcade/pizza parlor/car wash, a mean father-in-law (who also runs a muffler empire), a DEA agent who does stakeouts with his mom, legendary frisbee golf players, mean foosball players, Jan that Movie (listen to learn), and a weaselly optometrist. Speaking of which, here’s Doug talking about his teenage son, who was prescribed transition lenses:
I wound up binge-listening to all the episodes over a weekend and was cracking up the whole time. I don’t know what sort of mind can come up with a Simon & Garfunkel alternate version of the Cheers theme song, but I’m totally here for it!
The Patreon offers bonus episodes, which are equally entertaining. Here’s an excerpt about a new product that sounds perfect… other than the fire hazard: Don’t just trust my judgment on this, trust Eliza Skinner:
Or my buddy Howard:
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to have some Jannie Cakes for breakfast…
Howdy folks, “Honest Donny” here, and we’re really excited about the new car dealership I just opened at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue in D.C.
It’s easy to find – just look for the big white house! If that doesn’t work, maybe we’ll add one of those floppy people with no backbone. No, not the Republican members of Congress – although I understand your confusion. I mean one of these:
This month, we’ve got a great deal on some electric cars and tanks… er, I mean trucks.
These babies will really protect you when the rioting starts! (The bad kind, not the tourists visits the J6 folks did.)
Now I know in the past I’ve said some disparaging things about electric cars. Like:
“Electric cars are good if you have a towing company.”
And I said electric car makers “are looking to destroy our once great USA. MAY THEY ROT IN HELL.” And that President Joe Biden sold autoworkers “down the river with his ridiculous all Electric Car Hoax.” And promoting electric vehicles “was the idea of the Radical Left Fascists, Marxists, & Communists.”
But that was before I met this fascist. I want you to meet my new manager, Elon.
He’s a great American… well, he’s South African, but potato/po-tah-toe, right? And he’s making these Teslas – it’s a company he founded! (Oh, sorry, actually, he didn’t start the company, he just invested in it, then wrested control from the founders and tried to claim credit for starting it. Hmm, that’s a situation that could never happen with our government.)
Let me tell you more about these beauties… they’re red, of course, to match my tie, and my hat. And Elon took inspiration from the German automakers to design them. You know, he takes a lot of inspiration from Germany… you might even say he spends most of his time doing a German salute.
And if you put these automobiles into self-driving mode, they’ll take control of the wheel and do all the driving, so you can focus on putting on your orange tanner and combing your hair into a nice cotton candy shape that covers your bald spots.
And the tires, they’re fully inflated… because just like with the economy, inflation is good!
I can put you into one of these babies for just $35,000… or five dozen eggs. You’d better lock down this deal before you get locked up for saying anything bad about me.
We also take trade-ins. Just push, pull, or drag Chuck Schumer down here and we’ll give you a real sweetheart deal, without any sort of negotiations at all, just like Chuckie did for me.
And if you buy now, I’ll throw in a free* pair of gold sneakers. (*you’ll just need to pay the fealty fee of $400… it’s standard for deals like this).
Come on down to Honest Donny’s car lot at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. You can take public transportation… wait, I probably defunded that because it’s “woke.” Maybe take a Cybertruck Uber. Unless it’s snowing.
A week ago, a winter storm dumped about 10 inches of snow on our fair city. Friday we got a couple more inches. Much to the delight of an early 90s one-hit-wonder Canadian reggae musician.
And much to my dismay.
I’m not a winter person. Never have been. Maybe it was growing up in Arkansas, which is warmer most of the time… combined with the fact when it DID get cold in the foothills of the Ozarks, our home’s only heat sources were three small propane heaters (one in the living room, one in the back bedroom, one in the bathroom). We couldn’t leave them on all night (for both safety and economic reasons) so when we got up in the morning, we had to strike a match, turn on the gas flow, light that sucker up and huddle around it.
Oh, and the bathroom only had a tub, not a shower. My dad paid a buddy to put one in, but it was installed in a different, uninsulated room at the very back of the house. Sometimes the water coming out of the shower head would turn to icicles (exaggerating a bit, but it sure felt chilly back there).
Never learned to ski. My few attempts were always on Midwestern hills with man-made snow, which turned to ice, which made falling a real treat. And I fell a lot!
But there’s a special place in hell reserved for those folks who say “If it’s already cold, it may as well snow. I like snow. It looks so pretty!”
Yes, it looks pretty for about an hour. Then you realize it’s all over your driveway. And the sidewalks. And the roads. And then turns into a gray, ugly mess that sticks around way too long. (BTW, “gray, ugly mess that sticks around way too long” is what Mrs. Dubbatrubba calls me.)
Yeah, snow in the winter is a real treat. The shoveling. The chance of busting your butt on a patch of ice with every step you take. With dogs, it’s even “prettier” when their pee turns half of your backyard yellow… and their poops are magically preserved in the snow. You never see that on anyone’s Instagram feed.
Oh, and you “just bundle up” people? You can join the “I wish it would snow” people in hell. Yes, layers help you stay warm. But it takes 20 minutes to gear up, and you wind up looking like the little brother in A Christmas Story.
I’ll take shorts, a t-shirt and flip-flops any day of the year. (Yes, I know, I live in the wrong city.)
But the top reason I hate snow is this:
That’s my friend Vinnie’s wife’s car. Or it was her car. She’s OK. They live in Maryland, on a country road. Without snow, it’s two lanes wide. But when snow falls, it turns into single track… and when you turn a corner and there’s a FedEx truck barreling down the 20 m.p.h. lane going 40, there’s not a whole lot you can do.
People don’t wreck nearly as much in plain old “cold.” Snow creates all sorts of extra traffic issues.
I know I shouldn’t complain. Most winters, Cincinnati is pretty unscathed by heavy snowfall. That said, if you’re one of those snow lovers, you’re welcome to come to our house and take as much as you’d like from our driveway and yard. We’ll even throw in the doggie “presents” free of charge!
If you need me, I’ll be hibernating until I can play pickleball again.
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