With a couple of friends along for the ride, the little gray van scoots its way across the Bay Bridge, through Berkeley and the East Bay, and then down into the Central Valley on the way to the strange concrete verticality that marks Sactown from the surrounding agricultural floodplain. The temperature gradually rises until, with the lazy American River that bounds the city now in view, it tops 80 degrees.
The barbeque is smoking, the keg flowing and the party is in full swing when our boys arrive. Mots, party organizer and friend of Fox, welcomes our boys to the sweaty Sac. Matt Jacobs, a local folk singer, starts off the music, and His Mis follow suit on the makeshift stage next to the co-op’s compost pile.
Fox’s voice sounds deliciously raw on the borrowed amp. Or maybe it’s the acid that he soaked his shirt in before the show.
Either way, even the neighbors come out on their porches, drawn by the sonic perfection next door.
Quinn, sans mic, is quieter than usual, giving no hint of the bluegrass animal waiting to burst out.
Brown, as usual, wows with his drumming prowess and low-percentage stick tosses.
After the set is done, the titans return to Earth and mingle once again with the mortals. The Sacramento Bike Kitchen sets up a sheet as screen at dusk and the fixie-riding crowds crowd onto the outdoor couches to watch the Sactown premier of MashSF.
Later on in the night, the hippies come out to play, as does Quinn’s inner hippie. Snatching a banjo and demanding that someone dread his hair, Quinn hops aboard the peace train. The debut of his song “Brother, Sister, Father, Mother,” a whimsical tale about family affection, is well received but, unfortunately, is left unrecorded and forgotten at the end of the night.
Quinn channeling folk artist and noted California penal system resident Charles Manson:
Bed is wherever you can get it—floor, grass, couch outside or inside—and the warm Sacramento night envelopes our boys.
-Miles
No comments:
Post a Comment