BlakeAtwood.com

“But because we are human, every move of God is eventually turned away from truth and into formula, and God has to go about breaking our misconceptions and coming at it from a different angle.”

- Stepping Off the Bandwagon

I googled my friend Daniel Whittington from California and found an article he wrote about Christian music, the CCM industry, praise and worship, and why he’s in a secular band and will never go back. Worth the read, if not just for the quote above.

It’s tuesday night and I’m just now almost nearly fully recovered from the last day of the ACL festival.

The Sunday began with me skipping out on the last part of church. My replacement drummer didn’t show up, which wasn’t good, but…what can you do?

I raced to the show to see Eisley, a quintet of 3 sisters, a brother, and a cousin from Tyler, Texas, all of whom are still teenagers and all of whom opened for Coldplay earlier this year (or last). So I expected a lot, and, unfortunately, my expectations weren’t met.

Maybe I should have stayed for their whole show, but it was so bleeding hot, and I’d gotten a good recommendation to see Maneja Beto, a Spanish-Latin-Rock-Alternative band, who were playing in the Gospel Tent. Notice the tent part. Tent=Shade. That made my decision. I left the kids of Eisley for the rambuctiousness of Maneja Beto. I thoroughtly enjoyed their music, and the shade.

After that, I waited for my brother-in-law to show up. We killed some time, then went to see Grady. They were new to me, and we were right up front, and they were great. The drummer played a very basic set, but his bass drum was twice as long as any I’ve seen and the diameter was half of a normal bass. This created a thump unlike anything I’d ever heard before, and I, being the OK drummer that I am, loved it.

Then we saw Wilco. They were great, although, unfortunately, we didn’t stay the entire time for their show. We wanted to get a least decent seats for Coldplay….which we didn’t really…

Coldplay finished out the Festival and lived up to their status as the world’s biggest band. It was amazing to see tens of thousands of people jostle to get to see 4 guys on a stage making music.

The dustbowl came before Coldplay began. As the grass had been rubbed clean after three days of 65,000 people walking all over it, the only ground left was dirt, and as 60,000 people walked or ran to see Coldplay, a haze, more like a dense fog, of dirt, enveloped the crowd. I had pieces of an old t-shirt in my bag that I tore into more pieces so I and two others could have masks. It was so bad that I thought about leaving. Fortunately the dust settled down as everyone settled in for the show. Coldplay delivered. Go out, buy one of their albums, turn it up as loud as possible, and just enjoy.

I was sick on Monday. I even had to go home early. I haven’t felt great today, but I’m getting better. Oh – one more thing – the smell of a certain kind of smoked drug permeated my clothes and my body so much that I could smell it on myself the day after the concert. I guess I should expect that at a massive music concert in Austin.

If you’d like to see pictures that other people took, I recommed looking through the Flickr pics here.

It’s midnight and I’m home and clean, although tonight I picked up some strange red spots all over my abdomen. A gift of the festival, I guess.

I missed Robert Randolph, unfortunately, in order to go to a friend’s wedding. Turns out we missed the actual wedding ceremony as well, but we got there for the reception, and had a good time wishing the new couple good times for their honeymoon. They had a great idea too – they handed out their favorite songs on CD to everyone that was there, and judging by the playlist, since I haven’t listened to it yet, I would say they have good musical taste.

I only saw one band tonight, but that was enough for me. Ever heard of a band called Oasis? Yeah. I thought so.

My first impression when Liam came on stage was – that’s a Rock Star. A Rock Star who believes he’s a Rock Star. He even lived up to the billing and the rumors, as more than once he turned to his sound guys and told them to up the guitars in his monitor mix. They had to restart one song because of that.

Also, their organist looked exactly like the Americanized, whitened Jesus most of us picture when thinking of Jesus (i.e. the picture to the right). He was wearing white too. It was spooky, to say the least. Which reminds me -there was a Colonel Sanders look-a-like playing drums for Lucinda Williams as well.

Oasis played the three songs I know of theirs, Wonderwall, Champagne Supernova, and Lilah. They played other songs too. They were good. Their drummer was good. I would write more, but I’m awfully tired and have an incredibly long day tomorrow that involves waking up at 7:30am, playing two services at church (as normal), then jetting down to Day Three of the ACL Festival to see Eisley, Doves, Wilco, and Coldplay, and whoever else I can, although I may just camp out in front of that main stage and hope for a close spot for Coldplay.

It’s going to be madness.

It’s 1am and I’m home. I’ve got no brain left to write full sentences, so here are the tantalizing bits.

- driving all over UT while students swarm picking up everyone I was giving a ride to

- trying, in vain, to find a parking spot

- enjoying, thoroughly, Government Mule, and falling asleep, partially, during Lucinda Williams

- getting a call from the church to send out an emergency churchwide email, forsaking my chance to see the Allman brothers, while going to a tent with internet access, spending 30 minutes to an hour trying to get the churchwide email to work, emailing a friend a list of directions to see if he could get it to work (he didn’t because he had the same problem I did). I finally sent the email at 1am.

- having some girl walk in on me while I was in a port-a-potty

- having some guy pee on the ground next to me while we were all waiting for a band to appear

- being way too close to the speakers, to the point where my body shook with each thump of the bass drum, during the Black Crowes

- being impressed by the Crowes’ drummer, but not so impressed by his drum solo

- following the largest throng of people I’ve ever seen, thinking we were heading for the bus to take us back to our car, joking that we should just walk back, and then, as we continued walking, finding out that we were NOT walking to the bus but we WERE walking back to the car, from Zilker Park to the Capitol, and anyone who knows Austin knows that that’s far too long to walk after standing up for 8 hours in the heat and paying $2 for water or a CAN of soda.

- still being happy I went, and that I get to go to two more day’s worth.

- not being happy with the Rita stuff, and hoping that I can help somehow, because, man, this thing is massive, and it’s affecting huge numbers of people, and it seems like I can only think of myself, enjoying all this good music while other people are losing everything, staying in gyms, and fearing the worst…

A boat docked in a tiny Mexican village. A tourist asked how long it took him to catch them.

“Not very long,” answered the fisherman.
“But then, why don’t you stay out longer and catch more?” asked the tourist.

The fisherman explained that his small catch was sufficient to meet his needs and those of his family.

The tourist asked, “But what do you do with the rest of your time?”

“I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, and take a siesta with my wife. In the evenings, I go into the village to see my friends, have a few drinks, play the guitar, and sing a few songs. I have a full life.”

The tourist interrupted, “I have an MBA from Harvard and I can help you! You should start by fishing longer every day. You can then sell the extra fish you catch. With the extra revenue, you can buy a bigger boat.”

“And after that?” asked the fisherman.

“With the extra money the larger boat will bring, you can buy a second one and a third one and so on until you have an entire fleet of trawlers. Instead of selling your fish to a middle man, you can then negotiate directly with the processing plants and maybe even open your own plant. You can then leave this little village and move to Mexico City, Los Angeles, or even New York City! From there you can direct your huge new enterprise.”

“How long would that take?” asked the fisherman.

“Twenty, perhaps twenty-five years,” replied the tourist. “Then you can start selling stocks and make millions!”

“Millions? Really? And after that?” asked the fisherman.

“After that you’ll be able to retire, live in a tiny village near the coast, sleep late, play with your children’s children, catch a few fish, take a siesta with your wife and spend your evenings drinking and enjoying your friends.”

taken from a comment at reallivepreacher.com