Stay tuned to Randomville for Mackenzie McAninch’s daily coverage of this year’s event. Click here to see photos from Day One.

 

I got to Bumbershoot just as it started, so walking in the front gate, I was a little discombobulated. Trying to figure out where the stage was at that David Jacobs-Strain was performing, I decided to follow an older guy in a blues t-shirt and pair of cut-off jeans. He's GOT to be going to hear some blues!

It turned out I was right and I had a seat as Jacobs began with a little upbeat version of his first Robert Johnson cover “Come On In My Kitchen.” Then he kicked into his "N’awlins" blues by grabbing his steel guitar. Next he brings out two buddies whose names I didn’t catch, but one looks like the hippie teacher from Beavis and Butthead (mandolin) and the other Lou Reed (bass.) They slipped into covers of both Otis Taylor and Johnson. Their style is real blues, not like that pop-oriented music that so many call blues today; Just basic blues with occasional solos. The song "Kokomo Blues" was a mellow and pleasant way to sit and get more organized for the festival.

To the side of the stage was a dancing guy who is a cross between Santa and either a Hatfield or a McCoy dressed in a tan suit from head to toe. That’s one thing about not only Seattle, but especially Bumbershoot; there are plenty of interesting looking folks to see all day! The festival is lined with many street performers playing music, laying on beds of nails, juggling, and all kinds of circus acts.

Even in the 80's I was not a big fan of Crowded House, but I like a handful of Neil Finn's solo work, and people have been telling me for weeks that these guys do a great live show. If you're a C.H. fan then I guess they did a good show, but they were nothing more than background music while I ate a pulled pork sandwich. I didn't think they did anything too exciting. Oh, and an advantage of being someone who eats meat in Seattle is that the lines for the BBQ stands are always very short!

KEXP is broadcasting live all weekend from a VIP-only stage so I walked in to see what it was all about. On the stage stood the petite, Tibetan singer Yungchen Lhamo with her trio. She was asking the crowd in the dark, theatre-like setting to hum along in enchanting thrusts; something I certainly didn't expect. Up close you can see the beauty of her glossy eyes as she makes cherubic chants and sounds. Her keyboard player looped back the hums, while the percussionist had so many bizarre instruments I couldn't name a third of them if I had to.

Lhamo's vocals can reach pitches that resemble when you dip your finger into vinegar and slide it around the rim of a wine glass. And she has stamina also; her long outbursts can last for twenty seconds or longer. I’m not sure that her art would bode well for most rock fans, but she was certainly well respected by those in attendance today.

 

Outside, I learn something new to share with all writers: If you type on your laptop outdoors, DO NOT sit under a cherry tree. I’m sitting there when all of a sudden this cherry mush splats all over my keyboard. Bad times.

San Francisco band Honeycut was a group I knew nothing about until I "Myspaced" them yesterday and I liked a little of what I heard. Today they consist of a player of an old-school bass guitar similar to McCartney's in his Beatles days. He's accompanied by a keyboardist and, um, drum machiner(?) and a skinny singer in Bart Davenport dressed just like Shaggy from Scooby Doo with his green t-shirt and red pants.

 

Before the song "Tough Kid," he mumbled on about how most rock stars “aren’t' really that tough and that maybe only Lemmy (Motorhead) and Jack White (with his guitar) could kick your ass." The song is pretty much an ode to that concept and it sounded like a funkier, more upbeat version of Beck's "Peaches and Cream." When was the last time you heard a band mix Renaissance flute sounds, hip-hop and panty-dropping soul? Meet Honeycut! Yes, the crowd was responding with some serious ass-shaking. Their cover of “Last Night a DJ Saved My Life" had everyone grooving wickedly and Davenport’s harmonica addition was a nice touch.

I listened to Bert Jansch for a little while at the KEXP stage and when I came outside, KA-BOOM! There were a lot of people here! I'm talking thousands of people appeared out of nowhere and the lines to get anywhere were insane. Major bummer alert: Apparently +44  cancelled, so I searched for the tallest tree in which to hang myself from. That Mark Hoppus is just so dreamy! I sat in the crowded grass with some friends during the Avett Brothers' punky, blue-grass set. Those guys easily could pass for Valvoline Instant Oil-Change workers.

 

To veer away from the norm, some friends and I waited in a long line to see The Greg Proops Chat Show. He started off with some stand-up, joking with some folks from Bellevue (a rather wealthy area just East of Seattle) and asked if they’ve seen any black people here. He also teases how Bumbershoot is “Alternative” and “Underground” yet they have Fergie playing here this weekend.

 

Colin Hay from Men at Work is the music guest and he plays their song “Overkill” on acoustic guitar. He still sounds good after all these years. Eventually guest Janeane Garofalo makes her way to the stage. She tells a couple of rather dull stories about getting her press credentials today and a special clipboard she has with a calculator built into it. Proops basically just sits there and picks apart her sentences searching for amusing one-liners. He also had a couple of good jokes about Michael Vick and Owen Wilson.

 

Next to hit the stage was Whitney Pastorek from Entertainment Weekly. She admitted she’s pretty unknown to the crowd, but she told some amusing tales, especially one mocking her right-wing, Texas dad.

 

This time when I leave the indoors, I step outside to some chilly weather. Oh, and also to a guy in Hawaiian shorts who appeared to be yelling at his teenage son. “Now sit down and have your water!” The kid then punched the old guy in the balls, they had a brief scuffle, and then the kid ran away. Yes, entertainment arrives in many forms.

 

I had a decent dinner while listening to The Gourds play some originals as well as their famous bluegrass cover of “Gin and Juice.” After dinner it was time for an act I’d been waiting to see for a long time: Rodrigo y Gabriela. The stage announcer said it best when he said that when they play, their fingertips will probably be flying into the crowd. The Spanish, instrumental duo are classically trained in heavy metal, but now take out their aggression on two helpless acoustic guitars. The effects were turned up and each time Gabriela’s thumb tapped the side of her guitar it sounded like a kick drum.

 

“I learned English in fucking Ireland” Rodrigo jokes. By the fourth song, I’m puzzled how they haven’t broken any guitar strings. And there is no possible way Gabriela can have any bones in her right wrist. Hands just simply don’t bend like that or move that fast! They were on the Starbucks Stage and the crowd was full all the way out to the vendors; there must have been a few thousand on that lawn. But even the people in the back could see because there was live, black and white video being shot and broadcast on a white sheet behind the duo. They also had miniature cameras on the ends of their guitars for a unique angle.

 

They kept the crowd involved all night, especially asking them to sing the lyrics to their cover of Pink Floyd’s “Wish You Were Here.” There were many covers tossed in tonight ranging from Rage Against the Machine to old-school Metallica. For an encore, they started off with an amazing cover of “Stairway to Heaven,” which they’re known for. If Jimmy Page himself were there, he would certainly have given a standing ovation. As the song rounded its final turn, they stopped, and Rodrigo shouted: “Are you fuckin’ ready!?” And they just launched into this insane bout of speed and articulate guitar playing. I agree with my cousin tonight when she said that she thinks this duo is better than Tim Reynolds.

 

Day one of Bumbershoot is now complete for me and all I can say is that Rodrigo y Gabriela should walk around with wallets in their pockets that each read: “Bad Mother Fucker.”