We’ve Got Friendship
Live music, art, rain, good humans—Solid Sound Fest 2024
It’s over? Already?
Hmm, yeah, I guess it is.
It’s strange how time works. Or maybe it’s not strange. I don’t even know anymore. But one day you’re sitting in a field with your friends listening to your favorite band play the song, “Let’s Not Get Carried Away”, a song you’ve always wanted to hear live and finally are hearing live, and the next minute you’re back in your apartment on the couch with your coffee and cat, counting down the minutes until it’s time to go out the door and join the weary morning legions on the CTA Brown Line.
No offense to my sweet cat. I had the thought, “Let’s just live here. Someone bring the cat out for us and it’ll be perfect.”
Such is life. Such is time. Who am I kidding? I’m a flatlander through and through. I loved being in the mountains, but they’re also somewhat terrifying. In a lot of ways, it’s good to be back, but I’m still trying to get my prairie legs back under me.
So now in the afterglow of my first Solid Sound, I’m trying to sort it all out. Did I do it right? I hope so? I think so?
Logically, there is no “right” way to do a music festival. You see what you see and hopefully you connect. You meet new people and enjoy the company of those you already know and love being with. You hang with your people and enjoy the shared experience of having one amazing thing you have to do—Be here now with the art and music of it all.
But then there are the doubts someone like me, the overthinker, tends to have. Was I present enough? Was I social enough? When I was in a bad mood did it rub off on anyone else? Did I see everyone I should have seen? Wanted to see? Was I moved in ways I hoped to be moved?
Whoooooo carrrrrreeeeeesssssss?!!!!!!!!! Overthinking sucks big time, and frankly, is pretty boring and self-indulgent. Let’s get to the heart of the matter instead.
So in no particular order, here’s a list of the things that I recall most fondly from my time at Mass MoCA for Wilco’s Solid Sound Fest, which for the record, I did right, and at times not right, but I was there and it was wonderful:
Ratboys - Holy shit these guys rock! I knew a bit about them and love their latest album, 2023’s The Window, and tend to get any number of their songs stuck in my head. I seriously thought they were going to be more alt-countryish, which would have been cool, but I was delighted by how loud and cacophonous their set could get. Rock stars through and through. Go see them!
Blurry photo of Ratboys by Andy Pulliam Young Fresh Fellows - Joy. Pure rock and roll joy. That’s what this band brings with their unique brand of garage rock, meets punk rock, meets throwback rock, meets…pure joy. Coordinated guitar moves and musicians hopping up and down never looked so fun. And Scott McCaughey…what do you say about that dude? Flamboyantly cool. That’s the best I can do. I met Scott years ago as an intern at WXRT when he popped his head into the office, seemingly out of nowhere and said a quick “Hi!” and then popped out, like he had to do this to every office in the building, which he very well might have. I guess you wouldn’t actually call it “meeting”, but rather, graced by his presence. At Solid Sound on my way back to our spot on Joe’s Field after refilling our empty water bottles I ran across Scott and said, “Hi Scott”, and he smiled and replied, “Hey-ya”. So now the two things Scott McCaughey has said to me in my life are, “Hi” and “Hey-ya”. It’s not much, but even having this much interaction with him feels pretty great, I’ve got to say. He’s one of the coolest people on earth, so you just feel better being in his presence. It’s hard to explain.
Star-spangled Scott on the left and Kurt Bloch tearing it up on the right. Blurry dude in the background? Unknown. Photo by Andy Pulliam Jeff and Spencer Tweedy in conversation - This was a Substack hosted chat which was secret-ish (initially it was only communicated to subscribers to Jeff’s glorious Substack, Starship Casual, but word travels fast) We were right up front, or more accurately, directly behind Spencer’s left shoulder, as we listened to them talk fondly about playing music together and Spencer’s experiences growing up as the son of, and eventually collaborator with, his rock star dad. They have a truly lovely rapport that is beautiful to observe. They clearly really like each other. But one of the coolest things was to hear Jeff talk a bit about how meaningful the Tweedy Show was to him. And at one point, someone yelled out something I’m pretty sure everyone was thinking, “Thank you. It helped.” In the midst of the confusion, fear, isolation, and uncertainty of the pandemic, a little Instagram show that featured a musician and his family, became something to look forward to amidst the madness. It really was my entry into the larger Wilco-verse. So hearing someone say, “Thank you. It helped.”…well, I couldn’t have said it better.
Spencer & Jeff. Photo by Andy Pulliam Horsegirl - They’re just kids! But also…they are hypnotically and sonically so engaging and so loud and so rock and roll at its very best! There’s a Velvet Underground type of artsy cool to them. They play straight faced and at times maybe like they’re a bit disinterested. And maybe you’re lulled by the droning rhythms and believe that maybe they are disinterested, but then they absolutely shred and pull out some crazy harmonies, and you realize, oh no, they are fully present and fully committed. We made our way to the rail by the end of their set and the sound surrounded and vibrated through every molecule in my body and I was transported to that beautiful place where you remember…THIS…this is why I love music.
Jason Isbell & the 400 Unit perform R.E.M.’s, “The One I Love” - Don’t get me wrong, their whole set was fantastic. But when this band decides to take on a cover song, it always turns out to be something special. Rumors had been swirling around that maybe a surprise R.E.M. appearance was in the works. Jason had just inducted them into the Songwriters Hall of Fame. Peter Buck, who allegedly was in attendance at the fest, is a sometimes band mate of Scott McCaughey. And at one point I saw a guy who sort of looked like Michael Stipe. Granted, he sort of looked like 1995 Michael Stipe, so unless he commandeered a time machine, it was all a product of my hopeful imagination. There was no surprise set (unsurprisingly), but there was this moment. It was spectacular.
Chris Doyle’s The Coast of Industry - Shortly after the end of the wonderful Iris Dement’s set, a PA announcement let us know that there was lightening in the area and everyone needed to take shelter immediately. Danielle and I made our way in the direction of the Mass MoCA buildings where the efficient staff shuttled us into Building 5, and specifically into a sprawling gallery featuring an animated mural of sorts that we watched for quite sometime as we waited for the all clear to return to the fest. As the time went by, I became more and more entranced by this piece, which is hard to describe. It’s trippy. I first thought that maybe this is what a steampunk fan’s fever dream looks like—mechanical, repetitious, amorphous, creative, destructive. But there was something that evoked tissue and cells and life at its basic state that was moving. It was both beautiful and horrible how the cycle continued and morphed and changed and then returned to a previous form. I wondered if this is what life looks like inside a single molecule of my body? A fight, a factory, life and death, beauty and loss. I’m not giving the piece a proper description. And maybe I’m missing the point. But I was moved. And I suppose that’s what art is supposed to do for you, right?
Wilco - You knew I’d get here. I haven’t officially decided to make this a Wilco Substack, but we’re riding a fine line here. Okay, so the “deep cuts”—it wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea, and I get it. A “normal” Wilco set is filled with transcendent moments that one can anticipate, sometimes we receive these moments, sometimes receive others. But this was unprecedented. Some of these songs were being played for the very first time live. “Venus Stopped the Train” was breathtaking. The pandemic penned, “Tell Your Friends” was an emotional triumph. “Quiet Amplifier” was jaw dropping. And I loved hearing the ones I didn’t know. It was like hearing new Wilco and it was invigorating.
And night two? It took me about three songs to realize, “Ohhh hell! They’re playing A Ghost is Born in its entirety. There’s no way they’re going to play the 15 minute migraine inspired “Less Than You Think”, are they?” They did. It was thrilling.
“Friendship”…for Joe - I could write a whole post, and maybe one day I should, about Joe Campbell. He was an integral part of the Wilco community and someone you’d just see randomly at local Chicago shows. He was kind. He was funny. He loved Wilco so much. He passed away unexpectedly during the last holiday season and it was a huge loss. Many had known Joe for years. Danielle and I, being relatively new to the community, didn’t know him quite as well, but always loved running into him. In fact the cruel part was I was just getting to know him better. We went to a Chicago Wilco show together around Halloween and I got to hear some of his stories about being a lifelong music fan. They were funny and wonderful, much like Joe himself. When we left the show, we had an awkward handshake, but I decided to hug the guy. “See you around at the show” we both said to each other…unaware that this would be the last time I’d see him. It was a friendship that was just beginning to take root that abruptly ended.
There have been memorials, toasts, stories, tears, and all sorts of smiles and anguish in the intervening months. But maybe none more powerful than when Jeff Tweedy, on the last day of the festival, dedicated the Pops Staples song, “Friendship” to Joe and all of us who knew and loved him. Many within the crowd wore these Wonder Bread logo Wilco shirts as a tribute to Joe. He lived near a t-shirt shop apparently, and would occasionally have custom shirts made for himself, or often, being the giving soul he was, for others as well. This was one of his ideas and it was a wonderful design. I had somehow been unintentionally left off of the thread that talked about ordering these shirts, so at first it affected me quite a bit that I couldn’t be a part of the tribute. For a bit, I couldn’t shake how sad I was to be left out of the tribute for this person I cared deeply about. But no one did it on purpose. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. At the end of the day, I’ve been a part of a lot of the tributes to him and that’s good enough for me. And I knew I was one of the ones Jeff was singing to because I knew Joe. And if you knew you knew. I was blessed to have had the privilege for our paths to briefly intersect. And I’m grateful for Jeff Tweedy, the good soul he is. And I’m grateful for the larger Wilco community, good souls they are. Joe would have loved it all.
There’s so much that happened outside of the fest too. I’d probably need at least three more entries to cover it all. So I might have more to say. We’ll see. But it was great spending time with our Airbnb housemates, Joel and Jackie, who I wish we could have spent more time with, but luckily they don’t live terribly far, so hopefully we’ll get to connect again soon. And there was an epic road trip that Danielle and I took to Maine. And there was a great night of music that the two of us shared at Radio Bean in Burlington, VT. It was great to meet fellow Shoving Wilco podcast guest, Dara, in the airport, after she recognized the voice of my friend Jenn Husbands, because she had heard it on a podcast, which turned out to be the podcast tied to this very Songseekers Substack! It was great meeting others whose names I recognized, but I’d never met IRL. It was lovely having coffee every morning on the Airbnb house’s porch in Vermont that looked out onto three massive pine trees that were set amongst a little brook on one side and Vermont Route 8 on the other side—a route that warned the possibility of moose, not but a couple miles a way. No moose were spotted, both to my disappointment and relief (it’s complicated. I would have enjoyed seeing one from a distance, but am slightly terrified by their size and unpredictable temperament).
But there you have it. Solid Sound #1 for this guy, is now but a memory. Sigh! It’s really over? I think I did it right. Or right enough. It’s hard to know for sure. It’s becoming a bittersweet swirl of thoughts and emotions. I’m glad I was there. I’m glad I was there with Danielle. I’m glad I was there with my friends. I’m glad Joe Campbell’s presence was felt so strongly. I’m glad for Wilco. I am who I am because of live music and the community that is found by loving it so wholeheartedly and finding you’re not alone.
In 717 days we can do it all over again. I’ll meet you out on Joe’s Field. We’ll try to save space enough for everyone. Until then, let’s revel in the words of Pops, friends:
Talk to me, old pal of mine
If you feel you can't go on
Don't you sweat, it ain't over yet
This bond we share is strong
Your welfare is my concern
You weigh less than you think
I'll carry you to the second set
See if I let you sing
I love how music - and the people associated with it - inform your life, Andy. This sounds like a truly amazing music festival and vacation trip.
Wonderful write up Andy! 😊