Rock weekend heaven
I headed up to the Shoreline Festival this weekend in Prince Edward Island for some fun in the sun with a plethora of great bands/musicians. At first I thought it might turn out to be a bad weekend while sitting in line at the ferry terminal, I saw someone I intensely dislike in the car next to us. But that proved to be the only miscue all weekend long.
After Photoeast Editor and I set up in the VIP tent area (only because Tent Nazi was forcing people to move) we headed down to the stage area to see Ermine's set. The sound was pretty good being the first set of the festival. Ferry-mates In-Flight Safety followed them with a chilled out sunset slot. Grand Theft Bus got the crowd in the festive mood while Photoeast and I dropped a couple of magic mushrooms in preparation for the Metric show.
We were hanging out back stage when she (they) arrived. Emily Haines (and Metric) walked out of the shadows to get ready for her (their) 11 p.m. show. She was the epitome of hot indie girl - dressed in a black hoodie and jeans, with a great haircut and coolness exuding from every pore. With alcohol confidence and a encroaching psycilocibin glow, I blurted out, 'Emily!' She turned to me and knew right away what I was about to do. She's seen it dozens of times by now. I transformed into a gushing high school boy. I told her how much I loved her band and told her that if they ever came to Halifax, they'd have press. I handed her a card, even though they're sure to have a publicist, and then later asked for a picture, telling her that I never ask for one. And she was totally relaxed about it. "Would you like to go somewhere with more light?" she asked. OK, please let me be your boyfriend, I wanted to say. Just for a minute. We could hold hands and I'd die happy. So Photoeast snapped a photo. I looked like a kid in a candy store because we were actually joking around about how we should take a sexy photo. She looked sexy, I'm was laughing. Thanks, Photoeast.
Then we took casual shots as we talked and I got to ask her some questions about the band. Although the conversation turned into an interview-like talk, she still took the time to speak to me and that was enough to make my weekend.
That is, until Metric played at least. Very rarely does a band I like already make me more of a fan after I see them live. But in this case, Metric definitely moved up my 'Favorite Bands' list. Playing almost all of 'Old World Underground, Where Are You Now?' Emily came on like a banshee in her mini-skirt outfit, reeling in the crowd like a skilled puppeteer. I moved to the side of the stage to write notes and eventually ended up sitting on stage, swigging from the Josh the bass player's bottle of Jose Cuervo, passing it around to a couple of the Two Hours Traffic boys, who also took notes on the show for me. "Need: Hot chick lead singer --> (Lead singer) Liam sex change?"
During the show Emily came over and danced with us, leaving us seriously in need of a girlfriend. The band closed out the show with a hardcore version of 'Dead Disco,' with Emily jumping offstage into the crowd and then pulling kids up on stage. It was controlled chaos and a fantastic finish to the best show of the weekend.
Afterwards I shared swigs of tequila with Josh, and talked to James, the guitarist, while Emily loaded gear. I offered to help, but she declined. I said, 'What's up with all these boys leaving you to load up yourself?' 'They'll do their own thing when they want to.' Cool as shit. I then stumbled to bed on a Cuervo cloud.
After a greasy spoon breakfast, we headed to the beach for a spell, then came back to see Iron Giant killing it at 1:30 in the afternoon, stuffed penguins and dirty stories flying into the air. They were followed by Universal Soul, who gave a hip-hop shout out to the "Iron guys" as the large, bald headed, red bearded, Jack Russell terrier toting lead singer rocked out to the Hal-town collective's entertaining tunes.
Slowcoaster was surprisingly good, rounding up the youngest crowd of the weekend. Three quarters of the Slip played some inspired psychedelic tunes. Buck 65 was a highlight and I got to meet his very nice girlfriend Claire. We discussed writing as she is also a writer and she gave me two kisses on the cheek goodbye after the show. Skratch threw it down hard for two hours during a thunderstorm and then I headed off to the tent for some shut eye.
The first person I saw when I got out of the tent? Jenn Grant. We made up after a misunderstanding we had back in the spring. And with a lovely hug and free CD, how could we not make up? After watching her set, we headed out, exhausted yet satisfied after a weekend with not one bad act on the bill.
I think part of the reason I had fun this weekend is because I went under the rule that I was there for the music and to have fun, not with the motive to pick up girls. And for the most part it worked, except when I hit on the ultra cool and cute promoter Andrea in a tequila induced haze (damn you, Metric bass player!). Although I wasn't after anything with any girl, I found myself with a few chances - one with a drunk girl in her 30s with an too bronze tan, and the other with a young indie girl with a penchant for hitchhiking. Although she looked like she was 25, she actually informed me on Sunday that she was 19 years old, which made me glad nothing had happened at that moment where I could have easily said, do you want to hang out in my tent for the night?
But despite any previously laid plans, I caved when it came to one woman. The only girl I found myself really attracted to all weekend was a girl I named Jackie 0, an amazingly pretty, raven haired cutie with fantastically stylish sunglasses. I eyed her all through the Universal Soul and Slowcoaster sets and told myself around dinnertime that if I saw her again, I'd introduce myself. After a great set by Buck 65, I found myself backstage and there she stood - a pass around her neck, her sunglasses on her head, and a glorious smile on her face. I said 'Hi,' complimented her on her sunglasses and asked her how she ended up backstage. She replied that a friend had (magically) handed her a pass. She was actually from Charlottetown and headed to pharmacy school in Halifax in the fall(!). We hung out for the next few hours, watching the impressive Benevento Russo Duo from the side of the stage, sharing vodka drinks, then dancing to Skratch Bastid. I got a good vibe from her - she kept looking at me and flashing me that beautiful grin.
I had given her my number and email earlier, but in a moment of possibly misguided inspiration spouted out, "You should call me when you get into town because I think you're totally cute and I haven't said that all weekend." Now insert a series of stutters and stops and starts with a thick layer of nervousness and you have an idea of how smooth I was in that moment. As I stumbled to the end of my declaration of attractedness, I realized how nervous I was and told her so in hopes of downplaying my stumbling mouth. She seemed alright, but since I gave her my contact info and didn't ask her for hers, I will have to wait and see if I didn't screw up too badly.
As my friend Photoeast Editor and I drove home, I ran over the my actions in my mind. Was I suave enough to warrant an email? Should I have made a stronger play for her affections? Did I talk to her enough?
In the end I resigned myself to the fact that I had gone into the weekend to have a good time without the pressure of picking up and I accomplished just that. However, I pray that Jackie O at least gets up the courage to email or call. But I'm afraid it might have been a clear cut case of too little, too late. Perhaps I will see her again when she moves to town. Hopefully by then I will be able to control my voice to line-up with the thoughts in my brain.
After Photoeast Editor and I set up in the VIP tent area (only because Tent Nazi was forcing people to move) we headed down to the stage area to see Ermine's set. The sound was pretty good being the first set of the festival. Ferry-mates In-Flight Safety followed them with a chilled out sunset slot. Grand Theft Bus got the crowd in the festive mood while Photoeast and I dropped a couple of magic mushrooms in preparation for the Metric show.
We were hanging out back stage when she (they) arrived. Emily Haines (and Metric) walked out of the shadows to get ready for her (their) 11 p.m. show. She was the epitome of hot indie girl - dressed in a black hoodie and jeans, with a great haircut and coolness exuding from every pore. With alcohol confidence and a encroaching psycilocibin glow, I blurted out, 'Emily!' She turned to me and knew right away what I was about to do. She's seen it dozens of times by now. I transformed into a gushing high school boy. I told her how much I loved her band and told her that if they ever came to Halifax, they'd have press. I handed her a card, even though they're sure to have a publicist, and then later asked for a picture, telling her that I never ask for one. And she was totally relaxed about it. "Would you like to go somewhere with more light?" she asked. OK, please let me be your boyfriend, I wanted to say. Just for a minute. We could hold hands and I'd die happy. So Photoeast snapped a photo. I looked like a kid in a candy store because we were actually joking around about how we should take a sexy photo. She looked sexy, I'm was laughing. Thanks, Photoeast.
Then we took casual shots as we talked and I got to ask her some questions about the band. Although the conversation turned into an interview-like talk, she still took the time to speak to me and that was enough to make my weekend.
That is, until Metric played at least. Very rarely does a band I like already make me more of a fan after I see them live. But in this case, Metric definitely moved up my 'Favorite Bands' list. Playing almost all of 'Old World Underground, Where Are You Now?' Emily came on like a banshee in her mini-skirt outfit, reeling in the crowd like a skilled puppeteer. I moved to the side of the stage to write notes and eventually ended up sitting on stage, swigging from the Josh the bass player's bottle of Jose Cuervo, passing it around to a couple of the Two Hours Traffic boys, who also took notes on the show for me. "Need: Hot chick lead singer --> (Lead singer) Liam sex change?"
During the show Emily came over and danced with us, leaving us seriously in need of a girlfriend. The band closed out the show with a hardcore version of 'Dead Disco,' with Emily jumping offstage into the crowd and then pulling kids up on stage. It was controlled chaos and a fantastic finish to the best show of the weekend.
Afterwards I shared swigs of tequila with Josh, and talked to James, the guitarist, while Emily loaded gear. I offered to help, but she declined. I said, 'What's up with all these boys leaving you to load up yourself?' 'They'll do their own thing when they want to.' Cool as shit. I then stumbled to bed on a Cuervo cloud.
After a greasy spoon breakfast, we headed to the beach for a spell, then came back to see Iron Giant killing it at 1:30 in the afternoon, stuffed penguins and dirty stories flying into the air. They were followed by Universal Soul, who gave a hip-hop shout out to the "Iron guys" as the large, bald headed, red bearded, Jack Russell terrier toting lead singer rocked out to the Hal-town collective's entertaining tunes.
Slowcoaster was surprisingly good, rounding up the youngest crowd of the weekend. Three quarters of the Slip played some inspired psychedelic tunes. Buck 65 was a highlight and I got to meet his very nice girlfriend Claire. We discussed writing as she is also a writer and she gave me two kisses on the cheek goodbye after the show. Skratch threw it down hard for two hours during a thunderstorm and then I headed off to the tent for some shut eye.
The first person I saw when I got out of the tent? Jenn Grant. We made up after a misunderstanding we had back in the spring. And with a lovely hug and free CD, how could we not make up? After watching her set, we headed out, exhausted yet satisfied after a weekend with not one bad act on the bill.
I think part of the reason I had fun this weekend is because I went under the rule that I was there for the music and to have fun, not with the motive to pick up girls. And for the most part it worked, except when I hit on the ultra cool and cute promoter Andrea in a tequila induced haze (damn you, Metric bass player!). Although I wasn't after anything with any girl, I found myself with a few chances - one with a drunk girl in her 30s with an too bronze tan, and the other with a young indie girl with a penchant for hitchhiking. Although she looked like she was 25, she actually informed me on Sunday that she was 19 years old, which made me glad nothing had happened at that moment where I could have easily said, do you want to hang out in my tent for the night?
But despite any previously laid plans, I caved when it came to one woman. The only girl I found myself really attracted to all weekend was a girl I named Jackie 0, an amazingly pretty, raven haired cutie with fantastically stylish sunglasses. I eyed her all through the Universal Soul and Slowcoaster sets and told myself around dinnertime that if I saw her again, I'd introduce myself. After a great set by Buck 65, I found myself backstage and there she stood - a pass around her neck, her sunglasses on her head, and a glorious smile on her face. I said 'Hi,' complimented her on her sunglasses and asked her how she ended up backstage. She replied that a friend had (magically) handed her a pass. She was actually from Charlottetown and headed to pharmacy school in Halifax in the fall(!). We hung out for the next few hours, watching the impressive Benevento Russo Duo from the side of the stage, sharing vodka drinks, then dancing to Skratch Bastid. I got a good vibe from her - she kept looking at me and flashing me that beautiful grin.
I had given her my number and email earlier, but in a moment of possibly misguided inspiration spouted out, "You should call me when you get into town because I think you're totally cute and I haven't said that all weekend." Now insert a series of stutters and stops and starts with a thick layer of nervousness and you have an idea of how smooth I was in that moment. As I stumbled to the end of my declaration of attractedness, I realized how nervous I was and told her so in hopes of downplaying my stumbling mouth. She seemed alright, but since I gave her my contact info and didn't ask her for hers, I will have to wait and see if I didn't screw up too badly.
As my friend Photoeast Editor and I drove home, I ran over the my actions in my mind. Was I suave enough to warrant an email? Should I have made a stronger play for her affections? Did I talk to her enough?
In the end I resigned myself to the fact that I had gone into the weekend to have a good time without the pressure of picking up and I accomplished just that. However, I pray that Jackie O at least gets up the courage to email or call. But I'm afraid it might have been a clear cut case of too little, too late. Perhaps I will see her again when she moves to town. Hopefully by then I will be able to control my voice to line-up with the thoughts in my brain.