Drunkventures: Urban Farm Collective Benefit Show

Cascadian Dreams

Drunkventures: Urban Farm Collective Benefit Show

On Saturday, May 18th, there was quite a show in the neighborhood.  Being that I live in a mostly industrial area, there are often shows thrown in my neighborhood.  Last night The Builders and the Butchers, Alameda, and Dustin Hamman played.  The party was to raise funds for The Urban Farm Collective. 

But it was kind of rainy, so we had to do a little prep.  We set up some tarps. 

Chris working on getting a support structure for the tarp.

I helped where I could, smoked a bit, and helped to tie off some ropes.  I need to learn knots a lot better. After a while, we got the tarps pretty well set up, and I realized that they were Cascadian colors.  Maybe the support beam was from a Douglas Fir. 

The setting up is almost complete. 

After it was set up, we went on a mission to get a keg.  We got it from The Beermongers. It was a Southern Oregon IPA of some sort.  After getting the beer, I headed home for a minute to check in with my wife. 

On the way, I stopped to smell the roses. 

Then, it was back to the party.  My friend Danny had a few PBR's that he offered in trade, so I started drinking.  It was around 8pm that I started down that road.  We built a fire at PALS Clubhouse, and watched as the bands started rolling in.  I played some music from my phone on baby computer speakers as everything was being set up. 

At this point, two of my good friends showed up.  Steve, a good friend that I know from middle school, and Bill, who I've known since at least 2002.  We began to drink.  I was already feeling pretty salty and happy.  When I'm drunk, I'm sometimes likened to a viking.  I become aggressively happy.  I mess with people a little bit, but in a pretty friendly way.  It usually works out.  

So, my friends came, and I switched from Pabst to IPA's.  Pretty much immediately after getting our first pint, Dustin Hamman came on.  He was incredibly good.  Incredibly good.  A highlight of his set was a singalong about not being able to pay the boatman at death because he'd already spent his coin "getting to the other side".  He also does an amazing mouth trumpet.  I sang along, and became slowly more viking during this set. 

Dustin Hamman plays guitar and sings. 

Then, it was back to the keg.  Another beer, and a few vicious Jello shots later, Alameda came on.  During the Alameda set, my friends August and Lauriel came by and we chatted.  It gets a little bit more fuzzy from here on out, but there were conversations with people about dominant behavior, I communicated non-verbally with a deaf person, and yelled "It's not that fucking hard, just love each other" to the crowd.  Though I am already blessed with a pretty low filter, it often becomes non-existent under the influence of the cups. 

What a familiar card!

After chatting it up with people, I just wanted to dance.  I live under the firm belief that personal space does not matter as much during live music.  Not everyone shares this belief, but I'm a vocal proponent, and in viking mode, a loudly vocal proponent.  I'll bump up against bodies and try to get the sweaty masses swaying.  If people get mad, I usually hurl a quip or two their way and then continue to dance and move.  I began this during the Alameda set, and continued when The Builders and the Butchers came on, with short breaks to chat, and help my friends feel welcome.  Every once in a while I took a picture. 

The highly photogenic Adam and Amy. 

Ultimately, I want a concert to dissolve into a giant happy collective, but personal bubbles don't always allow that sort of thing to happen.  But a concert generally leans Dionysian, and the Dionysian is all about the breakdown of boundaries.  If people don't want to move with the music, they should move to the edges and let the miasma of motion occur. 

It was about one in the morning when I finally headed back to the homestead with Steve and Bill.  When I got home, I asked Kelly to set up my friends with places to sleep, then I flopped onto the top of the covers of the bed, and fell into a deep and dehydrated sleep.