pictures. words (sometimes). blog nonsense.

Posts tagged “photo blog

Sandy Point

sandy point

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Trip West: 7

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Portland. My dad told us a joke where a stranger meets a little boy and asks, “hey sonny, does it always rain here?” The kid thinks for a while….”I’m not sure, I’m only six years old.”

(insert groans)

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Windstorm in Seattle

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The BSG exhibit at the EMP in Seattle was sort of cool…if you had just finished watching the series, that is. (I had). I only finish the finale had been over as fast as the exhibit was.

Needless to say, there were lots of really nerdy people there.

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The place, we decided, would be awesome if you weren’t any sort of musician. Or if the demos you could record in their “studios” were free w/the price of admission (which was set at recording-industry levels of heart-clutching, wallet grasping, sell-a-kidney-ing. Maybe the nearly-empty building was a worthy symbol for rock and roll, after all…) Anyway, if you were a musician, you’d probably enjoy going to your local guitar center more. (Note the lack of music-paraphernalia pictures here. Jimmy’s shards just didn’t do much for me.)

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The outside of the building was much more impressive.

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Cstone ’10: Tuesday

After over fifteen hours of driving, we joined a crowd in the middle of absolutely nowhere in Illinois…

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Switchfoot.

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I haven’t been a true Switchfoot fan in quite some time, but I will quickly admit they put on a very solid show. Foreman‘s voice was stronger than I’ve ever heard before from ’em in person.

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I’m obviously as guilty of this as the next person, but man! it seemed like every other person had their videocameras outstretched anywhere we went.

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Timbre. This lady was EVERYWHERE we went–it seemed as tho each band wanted her on stage with them, from The Chariot, to mewithoutYou, to Brooke Waggoner…during one of the highlights of the night, all of the backing musicians gradually joined Timbre at her harp, plucking strings and continuing to lightly drum the rhythm on the soundboard.

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Last year, I was intrigued by her first album when my brother sent it my way. Her live performance far eclipsed anything recorded I’ve heard from her so far. It was a show full of meandering volume swells and the energetic symphonic pop that marks the best of indie music today, carried along by a vocal that transfixed the attention of all the hipsters sitting in the grass around us.

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