You're The Root, You're The Hanging Tree

Once again, it's good to remember that I share time in this world with Califone.

Califone shuffled into town to play for 2+ hours in a small bar in the Ballard area of town. We set up Saturday night way ahead of time, we sort of have to set up anything way ahead of time now, so we got to celebrate the coming of Bif's first Mother's Day with a little bit of musical magic.

I first learned of Califone when we saw them opening for another band years ago at the Great American Music Hall in San Francisco. There wasn't this sort of polite listening and clapping that occurs with most wading through opening acts to get to the headliner, I was immediately taken, from note one they had me in their rusty and dusty clutches.

Califone seems like the strange fruit that grows in the shadows of the blues, seems like they fell in love with living in the spooky reverb that comes behind a guitar's well placed slide, they seem to be unafraid of jumping into the momentary rip left when a stick is dragged through the mud, unafraid of being smothered in warm, thick, darkness.

There's something homespun and comforting about Califone, but also something slightly off and scary which, man oh man, is the best effing combination. I closed my eyes and drifted along their dirty jam, feeling like they were leading me through some non trampled portion of the world that everyone else has forgotten about, through weeds grown higher than my head. They were taking me through darkness, into a place of darkness, pulling seductively, and I could feel a break coming, a parting of the weeds where everything was about to get too god damn sexy. I felt like they were going to pull me into a slight clearing that was carnal, the sort of blissful animal sex where there is no thought of tomorrow, no thought of hang ups, just hot fucking. They parted the weeds slowly, and did we find "2 Sisters Drunk on Each Other"? Yes we did. And I had to let out a yelp just to relieve the tension.

Despite a stomach ache that had me grimacing through the evening, despite the angry taste of aspirin sliding down my throat, despite my unending anger at the idiots talking their heads off around me, the magic of Califone would not be denied to me.

Thank you Califone, and thank you Bif for being a hot mama.