Concert Review

Sasquatch 2009

Words by Paige Parsons

Photos by Dr. Knife, Paige Parsons

It started innocuously enough in mid-March with an email message from Matt. "Interested in shooting Sasquatch?" before deciding on a reply, A million questions ran though my head.

"Sasquatch… Where exactly is that, I wondered." A quick Google maps landed me in central Washington. I’d thought it was near Seattle, but three hours into the high desert? Camping? There must be a hotel near by, I thought.

"Sasquatch… When exactly is that?" Again, thank god for the net. May 23rd- 26th. The day after my best friend’s birthday. And he happens to live…. in Seattle! The wheels of my imagination began to turn.

"Sasquatch… Who’s playing?" WOW. Over a dozen bands that have been on my short list to see and shoot. Animal Collective, Doves, Grizzly Bear, M83, Passion Pit, St. Vincent, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Gogol Bordello, Hockey, you get the idea.

"Sasquatch… Who’s going to watch my kids for five days? As luck would have it, my six-year-old was already scheduled to spend the long weekend with my parents. That just left my ten-year-old, and I’m really lucky to have an understanding husband who was up for some special dad-daughter time.

I wrote back, "Sasquatch is a go!"

Fast forward to a few days before the big event. The plan was to fly up to Seattle, stay two nights to celebrate Phil’s Birthday and then drive the three hours out to to Gorge, where Sasquatch takes place each year. I checked in with Matt and found out that although he and the Ice Cream Truck wouldn’t be able to make it to the festival. I was so bummed. This would be the first year that he’d miss Sasquatch since Ice Cream Man began. On the up side, his old buddy, Knife was going to be the second photographer. Knife and I touched base and he was kind enough to offer to drive. I offered him a spot in my hotel room floor.  I let my buddy Phil know of my updated plans. he was more than a little concerned. "You’re going to let some guy you’ve never met before drive you to the middle of the Washington desert AND you’re going to share your hotel room with him?" Relax, I told him. He’s a good friend of Matt’s. That’s good enough for me.

Knife came and picked me up early Saturday morning in Seattle, right on schedule. We enjoyed a traffic-free drive up to the Gorge. It was a gorgeous morning and there was still snow on the side of the road on the mountain passes. But by the time we arrived at the Gorge it was noon and about ninety degrees.

It took a bit of time to get through the bag check, but we made it through in time to see the tail end of Vince Mira‘s festival-opening set on the main stage. Everyone had told be about the natural beauty of the Gorge, but you really have to be there to fully appreciate it. You’re out in the middle of East Chucka, with a panoramic view of the Columbia river Gorge that stretches on for almost 100 miles. Breathtaking.

The other thing that everyone had told me about was the complete lack of any shade. Unfortunately this also turned out to be extremely accurate. Again, you have to be there to appreciate it. I really wasn’t prepared for it, and ended up exhausted by mid-afternoon. I adopted a strategy of downing a bottle of water after each main stage set, and waited in the few inches of shade that appeared to the side of the soundboard in-between the "first-three" that a shot each set. By early evening, I felt myself again and even had the stamina to hike up and down the hill between the main stage and the two secondary stages so I was able to catch several of the smaller bands I’d been itching to see. Highlights of day one included the Doves, Passion Pit, M. Ward, Animal Collective, Ra Ra Riot, Bon Iver, and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs.

I caught up with Knife in the evening, right before the night’s final act, Kings of Leon. He’d had a change of plans after finding some long-lost friends who’d invited him to cap that night. if I was OK with it, he’d give me his keys so I could drive his car back to the hotel 30 miles to the west. Luckily I remembered how to drive a standard transmission. When he told his friends of the plan, they were more than a bit concerned. You’re stuck in the middle of the desert and you’re going to loan your car to a woman you just met today? Relax, he said. She’s a friend of Matt’s.

I was so happy to have a comfy air conditioned room to regroup for Sasquatch day two. I would have liked to have slept in till noon, but my hotel was a good 40 minutes from the Gorge, and I had a few supplies to get before heading back. Knife had requested cigs and ice, and I was in desperate need of sunscreen. There was a convenience mart across the street from my hotel, so I tried my luck there. I acquired Knife’s items, but the guy gave me a funny look when I inquired about sunscreen. I gave him a funny look back. What kind of convenience store doesn’t have sunscreen, I wondered? After trying two more convenience stores, I concluded that Central Washington just isn’t that into sunscreen. As a mother of two who’d constantly slathering the creamy goo on myself and my kids, this little experience made me realize I was a world away from my sun-phobic, organic-vegetarian bicycle-helmet-wearing brethren in silicon valley.

 
I had a super quick entry into the festival, but Knife wasn’t so lucky. Sometimes the media passes can cause a few problems when it comes to getting into the festival grounds, and this was one of those cases. I was able to catch a bit of Hockey on my way down to the main stage, and stuck around till the end of their set, watching the show from the 20 foot high VIP platform. I was really impressed with how they had the crowd going so early in the day. The light was beautiful for The Walkmen when they came on at 2pm on the main stage. I really wanted to see John Vanderslice, but wasn’t willing to hike up the hill and give up the slice of shade I’d found by the side of the soundboard. It was great to just watch an entire set, a rarity for me at a festival. Normally I’m running from stage to stage to catch the first three songs. Right after the Walkmen, Calexico hit the main stage, and I thought they captured the vibe of the Gorge and Central Washington perfectly. Calexico’s music isn’t what I’d usually pick to listen to at home, but their sound was beautiful as it echoed throughout the amphitheater. One of the things I love most about attending a festival is that you get to hear and appreciate live music that you normally don’t see. I’d also put The Avett Brothers in this category.
 
The rest of the afternoon was spent running between stages and trying to get the sunscreen I’d gotten from guest services out of my eyes. My eyes were tearing so profusely that I finally ended up at the first aid tent. A photographer that can’t see is not a good thing. The medics were extremely helpful, and pointed me towards the one and only sink I’d seen at the festival grounds. I knew I’d hit the jackpot when I discovered it even had hot water. Score. With my eyes feeling much better, I headed up to see St. Vincent. I found it amusing that Annie Clark restarted "Marry Me" no less than 4 times. The audience was clapping to the beat, but each time, the tempo wasn’t quite to her liking,and she’d scrap it and try again. The fifth time was a charm.
 
Once more I headed back down the hill, a few minutes early for the Murder City Devils. While I was waiting to the side of the stage, I saw a naked dude hop on of the fences with security gaurd in hot pursuit. There was only one way out of that pit, and it was right where I was standing. "Wait for it", I thought, "wait for it." Sure enough, about a minute later the streaker emerged from the crowd with a security guard pinning his arm behind him.  I got several killer shots of a unique Sasquatch moment. Another security guard that was permanently stationed stage left asked if I’d taken pictures and I just gave him a knowing wink. He mentioned that he sees a lot, but doesn’t have any pictures as the staff aren’t allowed to bring cameras. I asked if he’d like me to take his picture, and he posed appreciatively by the side of the stage. I commiserated with him that as a photographer, I lamented that there are never any photos of me at these events. Well, I should know by now that you have to be careful what you wish for, because it just might come true.
 
Here’s the sanitized, "i can laugh about it now but at the time it was terrible" version of what happened next. The Murder City Devils were supposed to have been on five minutes ago, but the entire time I was chatting with the security dude, I’m aware of apologetic then agitated talk coming from the stage.  We’re finally let in to photograph, and the ranting continues. All righty, then. A couple of songs later he proceeds to come down off the stage onto the large NIN equipment cases in the photo pit and grabs the back of my head and grinds it into his crotch. I’m a pretty easy going gal, but be reasonable. Crotch-burn on your forehead isn’t fun in any way shape or form. The worst part was that the whole thing was on the 50 foot jumbotrons on each side of the stage, and every photographer it the pit had snapped some racy looking pictures. I was quite shaken, reeling really, for a good hour after it happened, but luckily there was no permanent damage done to me or my lens.  Jump forward to the day after the festival and Spencer Moody called to apologize for molesting me, and also made amends at my request by making a donation to my favorite charity, House Rabbit Society. So all is forgiven, and I’ll have an interesting story to tell my grandchildren someday. It’s even got a moral – be careful what you wish for (having your picture taken at a festival) as it just might come true.
 
After taking a bit of time to get my bearings again, I was back on my feet, shooting another five bands before the day was through. Things got so crazy in the NIN pit that they couldn’t allow the photographers in because so many bodies were being pulled out of the crowd. We had to shoot from a soundboard-type location about 200 feet back, which was a challenge to say the least. But I was glad that audience safety came first, and luckily things had calmed down by the time the day’s headliner’s, Janes Addiction took the stage. The lighting was phenomenal and Perry Farrell moved in such a grand slow-and-sweeping manner that there were beautiful shots by the dozens. It was a photographer’s dream. He’d hold dramatic poses for 2-3 seconds and then move on to the next. Showmanship like Perry’s is a talent that few posses. It was impressive getting to see him interact with a crowd of thousands from only a few feet away. And thus ended another adventure-filled day at Sasquatch.
 
By day three, I was thinking of home. I’d already shot twenty-two bands, and although I was having a fabulous time, I couldn’t imagine doing this on a weekly of even monthly basis. It was a lot of time just getting my flash cards dumped each night. I shoot an average of 2,300 RAW shots a day at festivals. We had almost no connectivity, cellular or wi-fi at the festival, so all my communicating had to be done while at the hotel. I was already itching to do some photo editing, but there just wasn’t time. We had to make it back to the festival grounds by 1pm to see the Pica Beats. Everyone and their brother had told me I HAD to see them, and I promised that I would. We made it into the grounds just as they were starting their third song. I loved their eastern keyboards and beautiful vocals. Speaking of beautiful vocals, the next band I saw, Grizzly Bear, was mesmerizing to watch. All their falsetto harmonies and do-woppy harmonies take quite a bit of mouth maneuvering, and it was a delight to watch their vocal acrobatics from behind a 200mm superzoom lens. Day three was also much more pleasant weather-wise  as there was a gentile breeze all day long.
 
"The 4:55 conflict" was the subject of much discussion amongst the merry band of two-dozen Sasquatch photographers. Seattle’s mellow home-grown Fleet Foxes vs. Israel’s crazy punk. Which would it be? Most of the photographers, including Knife, went for the crazy. But me, I’d had plenty of in-your-face-crazy the day before. No more for me, that you very much.  It was the best decision I made all weekend. I’d seen Fleet Foxes perform twice in the past month back home in San Francisco, but I never tire of their joyous harmonies. I shot the first three songs from the pit, and them meandered back to try and get a great venue shot. I’ve been in contact with Robin’s parents who are fans of my photography, and they’d really liked my venue shot of the Fleet Foxes at the Fox in Oakland. I wanted to tray and get the same kind of context shot for his mom here at the Gorge. It took me a little maneuvering, but I finally found the perfect spot. The bright blue river curving thought the background, the clouds hovering above the bluffs. Before I started shooting I look a look around to make sure I wasn’t blocking anyone’s view. Who should I discover standing right beside me but the afore-mentioned Pecknold parents! It was wonderful to finally meet them in person after our online exchanges. The three of us enjoyed the rest of the Fleet Foxes set from this idilic spot. For me, it was the highlight of the festival.
 
Afterwards, I didn’t stray far from the main stage. I shot Silversun Pickups, who I’d been looking forward to shooting all weekend long. They were one of the first bands that I’d ever shot at a Festival back at Lollapalooza 2007, and I’d remembered Nikki’s warm smiles, Christopher’s crazy drum hair and Brian’s expansive energy. It was all there again. Nikki smiled at me often, and I got great energetic shots of both Brian and Christopher. 
 
As the end of the festival grew close, I felt a wonderful calm sense of closure envelop me. I’d shot all the bands I’d hoped for and then some. The rest just felt like icing on the cake. I watched the last sunset from backstage and had a few minutes to chat with some of the random folks that make up the backstage crowd at a festival. There was the guy that worked on calculating the corbon offsets. There was the gal who managed the press. There were the guys feeding sweet potatoes to a ground squirrel. There was the well-timed phone call from my kids as they were coming home from picking up six-year-old Gus from the airport. I hadn’t been able to talk to them all weekend because of the limited connectivity on the festival grounds. The only spot with even marginal AT&T coverage was backstage, and miraculously they’d managed to reach me in the 20 minutes of the day where I had cell coverage. It was good to hear the kids voices and it reminded me of how much I love my life back home.
 
Last up for me was Erykah Badu. Her backing band came out and jammed for several minutes under the pink and purple hues of the recently set sun. When she finally appeared she seemed cool as a cucumber in the warm Gorge sun. She took her own sweet time pouring a cup of tea and placing a bit of tincture on the end of her tongue before captivating us all with her infectious groove. Knife says if there’s a female version of suave, she’s it. I looked it up once I was home. Turns out "suave" is completely gender neutral. So from now one when I think of suave, Eryka’s face will forever come to mind.
 
Knife and I headed back to Seattle. I edited photos while he drove. I managed to upload one photo to flicker from the adhoc wi-fi network in the car, and felt like I’d at least made a valiant attempt at live blogging. We finally made it back to Seattle around 1am, and crashed at my friend Phil’s place. Phil, being the host with the most, had Sigur Ros on the turntable and sweet smelling cardamon candles lighting the living room as we dragged ourselves in off the street. It made me happy that Knife and Phil could meet. Just as Matt has a wonderfully benevolent and intelligent circle of friends, so does Phil. Between Knife and I, the Matt and Phil circles were now double-linked. This was a vey good thing.
 
The next morning, Knife drove me to the airport and he continued his southerly drive towards Oregon. I had the good fortune of sitting between the guitarist and drummer for Deerhoof on my flight back. Turns out they’d stuck around the festival an extra hour to see Grizzly Bear perform after their own set and had missed their flight home because of all the holiday traffic headed into Seattle. I was glad that I hadn’t tried to rush back to the kids the night before, and had taken the time to enjoy the late night with Phil and Knife and those sweet smelling cardamon candles.

 

1 Comment

The Color Awesome » Coachella 2011 via Palo Alto April 18, 2011 at 3:37 pm

[…] sometimes on stage, at least for the first three songs of each set. I’ve shot Lollapalooza, Sasquatch, Outside Lands, Bridge School, Treasure Island, etc, […]

Sorry, the comment form is closed at this time.