File Under: Solid Sound, Day 1

Both John Green and Wil Wheaton preach that people with ambitions toward writing, should write everyday regardless of topic or interest of readership.  My ambitions toward finishing the book that has been rattling around my head for the last 9 years (and a strong need for breakfast) leads me to write this rather brief and uninformative telling of our adventures at the Solid Sound Festival (curated by Wilco at MassMoCA) yesterday.  We picked up the shuttle behind Cumbies around 5:30 and were safely deposited at the entrance to Mass Moca shortly thereafter.  I (mostly) recommend the use of the shuttles, it's (mostly) convenient and saves dealing with pre and post show traffic.

As Mass MoCA is always a visual delight, we were met with art almost immediately.  The place is rife with it, both the installations that already inhabited the vast brick buildings and the festival specific pieces.  Food and beverage selections are fairly plentiful and seem to all be local purveyors.  The thoughtfulness of that last part makes me happy.

The paid and volunteer staff all seemed happy to be there and were quite polite, even security (what? is that even possible?).

Now for the music, Purling Hiss garnered a great big meh from me.  Pajama Club was better but not exactly my cuppa, we listened though as we sat on a hill and watched the sky darken.  As their set continued, our friends arrived with boys in tow.  We followed them down into the field, which through many feet and much rain was softening into mud.  They chose a spot, set up their chairs and we chatted over the band (we are so rude, I know).  Not a full 10 minutes after Doug had declared that it wouldn't rain, "the radar showed it had turned...."

Ellyn and I had brought rain coats.  I had on boots, I was planning on this all being fine.  We're Mainers, rain is nothing.  What we hadn't banked on was the 10-15 degree drop in temp.  Rain coats and ponchos don't address that little bugaboo.  We decided to go back up the hill and sit on the bleachers while they reset the stage for Wilco.  We sat for a mere few minutes before we decided the our asses would not be able to endure.  Also, the sound tent blocked the view.  "If we can't see, we may as well find someplace dryer." said the Mrs.  I agreed.

We made our way through the increasing downpour to the shelter of the main building.  We debated the merits of staying while in line for our body and soul warming coffee and tea.  As we started to make our way back to the field, we overheard someone on a security radio mentioning that is they get thunder they will be shutting down.  This makes absolute sense and as the potential was high, we decided to head back to the hotel and regroup for today.  We did hear the distant thrum of the band as we waited for the shuttle.  In fact we heard about 30 minutes worth.  The planners had not accounted for people wanting to leave early if the weather turned nasty.

Upon return to the hotel, we soaked in a hot bath and slept like logs.  Now we must go forth to source some better, warmer rain gear.  Ta!