Surprisingly hangover free…
Usually cheap beer will pound on my head the next day. Even though I woke up pain free, the PBR brilliance that was spoken of the night before was also nonexistent. I snuck out into the yard with Gidget. A neighbor was mowing their lawn, hummingbirds were fluttering by a nearby feeder and a rambunctious squirrel was tearing up the roof next door. This quiet, country morning is something I don’t get to experience too often. Nina and Jacque woke soon after and breakfast was on all of our minds.
Being from NYC, Nina simply assumed that she could walk for coffee while waiting to go eat. But in Decatur, that ain’t an option. So we quickly got ready and off we went to get some food. I got ready a little too quickly which was obvious as we walked into Java Jive (790 Ponce De Leon Ave NE). This funky, soda fountain era looking joint is crammed with antique goodness. Formica tables and a virtual Hotpoint Appliance museum with washers, stoves and more. The food was pretty good too.
Later, lunch would be at a place called Flat Iron (520 Flat Shoals Ave SE). This is a rustic bar and grill that serves up good food and nice, cold margaritas. I know, margaritas don’t seem like the thing to get in a bar like this, but we originally wanted to get Mexican food and that place (The Blue Frog) was closed. Still, this was perfectly fine with me. I ate my steak sandwich as we poked fun at the borderline obscene sailor tattoo art on the walls. We coincidently met up with Jacque’s friend Jeff who was moving to Florida the next day.
After a much needed long nap, it was time to get to The Earl (488 Flat Shoals Ave) for the night’s musical festivities. The Earl stands for East Atlanta Restaurant and Lounge and it’s a popular spot in town to see loud bands and eat bar food. The place is split with the loud, clambering crowds seeking food under hanging kitsch in front and equally clambering crowds seeking music in the back. To keep the night running smoothly, the club had a side stage set up off in the back corner next too the main stage. This would prove very effective although, ironically, the volume from the side stage was louder.
First up on the main stage was Fernandia. Headed up by singer/songwriter Amy Coccia, Fernandina serves up some nice country rock. Next up, and still on the main stage, was Citified. Hailing from Greensville, NC they record for Eskimo Kiss which is run by Other Sound maven Kim Ware. Their catchy songs were filled with that old Rickenbacker whammy guitar sound and an elastic bass. They hinted at this being the very last Eskimo Kiss event. I can only hope that this is not true.
Next we move to the side stage where the volume gets turned up for the heavy pop sound of The Yum Yum Tree. This was the debut of Michelle Freidman (of Mary O’s band) on guitar and backing vocals. Back to the Main stage came The Press who currently call Brooklyn their home. Very high energy in their alt-country rock shuffle and humor in their DIY tattoos and disguises. Only the rhythm section was not wearing mustaches. Apparently we were al supposed to know why.
What has been becoming all too common, The Press—and just about every band—refused to say who they were. This is a big peeve of mine. No band should assume everyone knows who they are. Especially when playing an indie-rock festival such as this. But I digress. On the side stage came Lay Down Mains. Plain and simple, loud pure rock, they promised to rock our faces off and they came pretty damned close to it. Closing out the night was a band with the best name ever; All Night Drug Prowling Wolves.
Paying homage to classic Lower East Side punk, these guys hailing from the South do it better than just about anyone in NYC right now. Most amazing is how their singer never put down—or spilled—his beer. Although he did ‘bless’ the crowd a few times. He also had some of the best oneliners of the night like, “Can I get a whiskey? I just spilled mine on a Chinese guy,” and, “I can’t see anyone. It feels like I’m playing for a chubby kid in corduroys and a Chinese girl.”
After the music, a bunch of us moved up to the front for some food. We only had about fifteen minutes to order before the kitchen closed. I ordered the Earl Dog. Large, red, crisp and hot with cheese and a side of shoestring fries. I was washing it down with a Monster (sorta like Red Bull) and Vodka. It’s a tasty concoction that my new friend Jen had been drinking. We were trading off buying each other rounds all night, so the last time I decided to try one to see what it was all about. By the way, drinks at The Earl seemed a bit weak to me. I was told later that the front bar serves up stronger mixes that the back. Something to keep in mind.
As the crowded room clanked and scrambled around us, Jen and I were lost in conversation about friendship, relationships and sometimes blurry middle ground they sometimes invoke. Later, when the bill came, I was delighted that my charge was only $6.00. I handed her $10.00 and went back to talking to Jen. Once we were outside, I realized that I never got any change. While I planned to give a big tip—probably the $4.00 change—anyway, I still say this was a very presumptuous move on the part of the waitress.
