Getting Bunburied in Cincinnati, Ohio

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Skyline view of Cincinnati from the 600 block of Main Street.

Looking back on our recent trip to Cincinnati for the Bunbury music festival, there were as many low-lights as there were highlights. This is a festival in its third year, and the event’s new organizers, PromoWest, still have much to learn. Rookie mistakes include a security team that asks about weapons on your person instead of checking for them; too few water stations in an unforgivably hot and humid climate; poor sound quality at the smaller stages; and a “craft beer village” that served us Stella Artois–a brand owned by Anhueser-Busch, the world’s largest beer manufacturer and distributor.

My favorite oversight was the poor signage and lack of visible staff at the start of the festival. On Friday, my little group entered the only marked entrance a few hours after opening, and walked into a Kafkaesque scene in the parking lot. Without any direction, attendees had formed a web of lines TO NOWHERE, some of which snaked into the ends of other lines and moved nonsensically in circles. People were hot, people were missing beloved bands, people were hangry. Some people were stuck outside for an hour or more, while craftier festival goers walked straight through the gates with ease as the only two visible staff members stood near the entrance and did nothing to control the situation. This was an amazing social experiment. Thank you, Bunbury, for proving that society descends into chaos within minutes in a vacuum.

In truth, these are all fixable deficiencies and some were on the road to remedy by the third day while others will probably (most likely…hopefully) be worked out by next year. For a note of positivity, the beer lines were short, and we weren’t packed into the festival grounds like sardines. Re-entry was allowed so we could come and go as we pleased (a fact that probably improved the bathroom situation immensely), and Bunbury was very kid friendly. In fact, there wasn’t one tripping teen, scared and lost in a sea of acid, to be seen all three days–a marked difference from Outside Lands. Most notably, the crowd wasn’t clogged with fashion bloggers and wannabe chanteuses looking to commemorate their coolness with Internet. This is because Bunbury hasn’t jumped the shark like Coachella, Outside Lands, or SXSW: all of which are now places to see and be seen rather than places to see and hear music. People actually came to the banks of the Ohio River to be with friends in the presence of live music; what a concept.

The highest of highs, however, came from two bands I’ve seen on the west coast many-a-time. Father John Misty has been profiled on this blog before, and I don’t feel there’s much more to add. His pitch was perfect, his outfit on point, his set amazing and peppered with insights that skewered the absurdity of every band asking the audience “how y’all doing today?” as well as the weak explanation Bunbury gave for its choice of name. For the record, he renamed the festival Blimberskrimp. After all was said and done, he made two grown females swoon just by walking by them. I was one of those two females, the other was my lady compadre for the weekend. He passed us and we attempted to say words with our mouths but words that never came; then he was gone in the blink of a swoon. As soon as he was out of earshot, we released breathy, disbelieving screams and lost our minds just as it began to pour down rain with a southern fury. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think that means Father John Misty conjured the rain. It was a monswoon.

As the skies opened up we stood in the rain like teenagers and watched Tame Impala play an epic set through the downpour. For a band that up until recently hadn’t seen any of its U.S. royalties, Tame Impala always plays an amazing show like none of that BS is happening to them. Listening to psychedelic Aussies while running losey-goosey in the rain with an equally stimulated crowd conjured thoughts of Woodstock in the best of ways. Especially for a Californian that had almost forgotten what it was like to see water come from the sky, this moment was seared deeper into my memory as each huge sweat-salty drop of water stung my eyes. I was blown away when they played the Fox Theater in Oakland a few years back, and blown away a second time here in Ohio not only for the quality of their performance but for their professionalism in finishing their set as thunder wailed, lightning flashed, and the rain incapacitated their keyboard. This is a great band; this was a great night.

Other than Friday, we didn’t spend much time at the festival because we’re jaded city folk who weren’t that impressed with the line-up, and the trip was more of an excuse to see old friends than an effort to see new music. I am 30 now and I wasn’t paid to cover Bunbury, both facts which de-incentivized fighting crowds to catch a glimpse of Snoop Dog or enduring the heat to hear a local band I can hear better on Bandcamp. Instead of trapping us by the river, however, Bunbury’s re-entry policy allowed me and my band of merry travelers to explore Cincinnati.

Did you hear that, American cities currently negotiating with festival promoters, and the festival promoters that try to rob us blind with over-priced food and drinks? By enabling ticket holders to come and go at their leisure they will spend more money within city limits, and be much happier, much less destructive people at the festival because the herd mentality has been usurped by the freedom of movement. We still bought plenty of food and beer at the festival, but we also frequented Cheapside Cafe, MOTR Pub, Park + Vine, Coffee Emporium, the Taft Museum of Art and Eden Park, among others. In addition, we Ubered everywhere–further injecting Cincinnati’s local economy with our out-of-state moneys. Freedom = Choice, Choice = Patronage, Patronage = Successful Small Businesses.

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Our band of merry travelers in Eden Park.

Bunbury is a quaint local festival that sent us home feeling unsullied and sun-kissed with a side of musical memories. Cincinnati is a cool town grappling with the same issues of suburban flight, urban blight, gentrification, and the on-coming flood of hipness as are so many other American cities in the 21st-century. But there is an element of midwest charm in Ohio that compels even the hippest bartenders and baristas to be awesomely polite and authentically engaged with me, the customer. I had almost forgotten this was possible, living as I do in San Francisco where rudeness is now worn as a badge of honor–a way to stratify class in Northern California into hierarchies of unhip, hip, hipper, and hippest. I’m sure Cincinnati’s growing pains are not over and that the city’s gentrification is not appreciated by all its residents, but, from an outsider’s perspective, it was encouraging to see murals restored and small businesses popping up amidst empty storefronts, while other businesses remained in place and looked untouched by time.

If you’re looking for a relaxing pace of life and an excuse to catch up with old music-loving friends, Cincinnati is the place and Bunbury is the festival for you. Will I personally return to Bunbury next year? Probably not, but Goonies never say die and this lady is most certainly for hire as a freelance music journalist. We’ll see where the year takes us, but until then…you take care, Ohio–perhaps I’ll see you again some day.

White Rose For a Day

Nostos Nic as "model" for a White Rose Collective seminar hosted by Barrow on March 30th, 2014.
Nostos Nic as “model” for a White Rose Collective seminar hosted by Barrow on March 30th, 2014.

Working as an archivist, I spend most of my days secluded in a windowless, cold brick building working with materials that speak volumes but rarely say a word. I love my work dearly, but when given the chance to step out of this (Hollinger) box…I jump at it. This is why I always say yes when the lovely ladies of White Rose Collective ask me to moonlight as “model” for a day.

The gorgeous brain-trust behind White Rose Collection, Andrea Donoghue and Teddi Cranford.
The gorgeous brain-trust behind White Rose Collective, Andrea Donoghue (left) and Teddi Cranford (right).

The love-child of Andrea Donoghue and Teddi Cranford, White Rose Collective is comprised of professional stylists and make up artists who bring high-fashion concepts to those of us who spend more time walking office hallways than we do runways. In addition to wedding prep, Andrea and Teddi leave their Manhattan-base to offer educational seminars hosted by salons in various U.S. cities.

Barrow Salon at 256 Sutter St.
Barrow Salon at 256 Sutter St.

After “modelling” for them last year, Andrea asked for my assistance on March 30th at Borrow Salon in San Francisco; I was only too happy to oblige. I emerged from the prior gig at Edo Salon sporting a sultry Dolce and Gabbana-inspired up-do, so I was giddy to see what the WRC team had in store for me that sunny Sunday.  I was assigned to a wonderful stylist by the name of Julio Hernandez, an Aveda master stylist who hails from Southern California and has been in the biz for over 12 years. This handsome gent was a delight, and before I knew it my hair was whipped into a soft multi-extension dream.

Nostos Nic, left, mid pin-curl courtesy of Julio Hernandez, right.
Nostos Nic, left, mid pin-curl courtesy of Julio Hernandez, right.

While my normal photographer had a scheduling conflict and couldn’t accompany me (damn you, band practice!!), the fellows at Glass Coat Photo Booth were kind enough to let me the use images you see from a booth they installed in the salon for the day. The whole day was a hoot, and I highly suggest you consider this Collective for your next event or even just to treat yo self.

Nostos Nic: After
Nostos Nic: After

Nostos Nic, Hair Model?

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Many moons ago (October 2013), I attended a Father John Misty show at Slim’s and a very nice lady by the name of Teddi Cranford asked me a question: “Would you want to be a hair model this weekend?” Once I heard the words “haircut” and “products” modified by the word “free”, I of course said yes. The name of the game that day was education, and the lovely staff at Edo Salon were learning looks fresh off the Dolce & Gabbana runway from  Teddi and her White Rose Collective partner, Andrea Donoghue.

My intention at the time was to write a piece about the Collective event, but it never materialized for one reason or another; there are only so many hours in a day, and I’m still somewhat uncomfortable with the whole PR angle of this online branding schtick. I dragged my Fella along for the ride and the free food, and he took a slew of photos–a few of which I’m sharing with you now. Enjoy.

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The Dreamscapes of Clare Elsaesser

Sweet Dreams
Sweet Dreams

Clare Elsaesser is one of my favorite artists because she draws realistic dreamscapes, the real reimagined. She lives and works in Jenner, California–a seemingly imagined place made real that’s nestled on the Northern California Coast where the Russian River meets the Pacific Ocean.

Ring of Roses
Ring of Roses

Good art, bad art–it’s all subjective, so the real measure of a piece is the emotional response it elicits and, thus, the connection it creates with the viewer. This is one of Elsaesser’s greatest gifts: her art is relatable yet elevated, like when you read a poem and it explains your emotions in ways you never could. Her compositions are innocently voyeuristic, as in “To The Night,” and refreshingly irreverent without losing their impact, as with “Pillow Land.”

Tiny Pony
Tiny Pony

She works with matte acrylics, textured watercolor paper, wood panels and also incorporates sewing into her work, which is for sale in forms ranging from original paintings to 5×7 prints on her ETSY site. You can also keep up with her ongoing work in a variety of outlets (Instagram, Pinterest, Blogspot, Facebook), and might I suggest giving her prints as gifts? I did just that, for Christmas a few years ago, and her affordable gems were a smashing success.