Me and Mickey Avalon,
aka “The Sickest White Rapper
In The Fucking World”
Originally uploaded by loudersoft.
“What’s up, motherfucker?” Clell Tickle’s right-hand man Hambone himself could not better utter this simple phrase which summarizes the 2006 MMS. It is without a doubt the best kept secret in music festivals in the United States. The Midwest Music Summit has been around since 2000 and has finally come into its own with its blend of indie rock, hip-hop and all around support for the music movements happening in the region and, some might venture to say, it is far more interesting than SXSW, NXNE or CMW! in that the artists and their artistry do not get lost in the shuffle.
DAY ONE: Screw you Hertz. Thanks for wasting half of my day with a bunch of bullshit that eventually worked itself out. I got to the festival, checked in, met up with fellow bloggers Dodge, Eric from Marathonpacks, and Joe from each note secure, ate some amazing vegan food, got free cigarettes, was introduced to a guy who came to my show in Nashville three years ago, met THE REAL WENDY O, and saw bands The Tide, Everything Now! and Page France before bouncing out into the world. The three of us went for a beer at some place that reeked of Kappa Fukka Llama on Broad Ripple Avenue, and I connected with Collins from American Princes. I sat down and ate some food, me and the Princes did, and I eventually split off from them. I ended up at The Vogue for Those Young Lions, after which I walked to The Rouge to catch American Princes rip through an incredible set. I then walked back to The Vogue to catch the flawless and immutable live show by Silversun Pickups, followed by an impressive performance from Margo and the Nuclear So-and-So’s.
I had a bonding moment with various and sundry band members and fellow bloggers, then I went home with four guys. No, sicko, I let American Princes crash on the floor of my hotel because I’m not a jerk who makes travelling bands that kick ass sleep in the van.
Day two coming soon. Blagh.
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