You may have seen some of my music posts, whether it be a concert review or a new song release in which I had a hand writing lyrics. I love music, but music is a very cruel mistress. She hasn’t yet been too cruel to me, probably because I keep music at arm’s length. I have even come away with a song I wrote that I want played at my funeral. That song release did not make for a popular blog post, but I don’t really care because I just love that song. But I know not to push the musical gods too much. They will chew me up and spit me out.
Just take a look at this poster for the North Coast Music Festival that is coming up over Labor Day weekend in Chicago.
I was so excited when I heard on the radio that The Strumbellas were playing. I figured they would be headlining. I mean, their last album Hope was just a near perfect masterpiece of music with songs like this …
But look where they are, stuck on the 3rd line between Cashmere Cat and Lil Skies while DJ Snake headlines. Geesch. If I were The Strumbellas, I would quit music. But they are a Canadian band, so thirdlining at a US festival may sound pretty good to them.
I was thrilled to see Moon Taxi playing on the last day of the festival, but again, not headlining. C’mon, their songs are already being used in Jeep commercials. That’s just cruel not to be headlining when your songs are selling cars.
I really like Moon Taxi because of songs like that. Here’s the whole song to enjoy without the car plug …
But why would I pay to see Moon Taxi when I was planning to see them for free in Millennium Park in Chicago in a couple weeks? Because the concert will be by Moonrise Nation, not Moon Taxi. Oops. I got my Moons confused, and you know how dangerous that can be. Considering my 2018 concert budget is zero, I may have to try and enjoy Moonrise Nation songs like this …
That may not be too hard to do. Good tune.
My oldest son enjoyed some of the Pitchfork Music Festival in Chicago this year. He told me a story that hammers home the cruelty inherent in the music biz. On one of the nights during Pitchfork, my son was on his way back to his apartment on a CTA bus. Who does he spot also on the bus? Why, it is one of the performers he just saw performing at Pitchfork, riding the bus home. No limo. Not even an Uber. A public transit bus. Cruel.
God, I love music. But due to music’s excessive cruelty, will my love affair with music always be a long distance runaround? Yes!