STAND UP BITCHES, ALL HAIL LORD STANLEY, ROTTING OCTOPUS CORPSES, AND 70’S PORN ‘STACHES! GET ANGRY LIKE VIKINGS! JONATHAN ERICSSON, KP’S GOT SOME CUPS FOR YOU, BOY.

First, before anything else, I’d just like to shout out to my boys in red, the heroes, the golden gods, the Detroit Red Wings on their 11th Stanley Cup Victory. Take that, Sergei Federov. Take that NHL and your obvious favoritism and crooked-ass referees. Thanks to Fleurry’s awesome ass-goal on himself, Kronwall, you are absolved. But I’ll spare the details on their symphonic victory because I’m sure you all saw it. Yesssssss.

Thankfully the weather cleared after a whole day of rainy crap and the sun came out to welcome one of the most awesome bands to use the phrase “heyaaaaawwwww, huh!”, to Grand Rapids for the first time (near as I can tell, they never ever come around here). The clouds parted, the breeze tingled, the oldest security guard I’ve ever encountered refused to check my ID for beer, and Cake took the stage.

I have to admit, my hopes were really high for this band. I’ve been captivated by their weirdness since the eighth grade and would have lost all faith in the quirk-rock genre (Primus, like I never knew thee…) if they were too wasted or disconnected, or (god forbid!) went all soft. They didn’t. In fact, they were the weirdest band I’ve ever seen on stage and that is exactly how it should be. Their weirdness wasn’t saturating like Riverdance, overwhelming like (insert any punk show here), or creepy like that time I saw Billy Bob Thornton open for Willy Nelson at Red Rocks. It was just a little bit of all of these things, framed by the rolling greenery and barefoot carelessness of the Frederick Meijer Gardens. They were confusing. They were subtle. They were perfect.

They took the stage channeling 70’s porn stars, all beard, chest hair and aviators, which was startling and creeped me out pleasantly. Singer John McRhea’s T Shirt said “Satan Is Real” and that said it all. His beard glowed beneath his Sinatra-esque fedora and his voice didn’t crack one time. It was almost too much like the studio version. No wonder they don’t put out a live album. Their total lack of enthusiasm (except the rhythm guitar guy, he looked like he was doin’ it with his enormous, gigantic, massive guitar) came off ideally and with just the right amount of arrogance thanks to the odd little dances the singer was doing, which consisted of (this description does no justice to the actual dances, by the way, they were too subtly awesome for words) lackadaisical points at nothing, hand raising, sliiiight foot stomping, and intermittent acoustic strumming. He barely moved but wasn’t boring even a little, even for one minute. They started their set with a deadpan version of the Waylon Jennings classic “Ruby, Don’t Take Your Love To Town” and moved through such nuggets of bizarrity as “Sheep Go To Heaven,” “Stick Shifts and Safety Belts,” and “Wheels.” No drum solo, no pyrotechnics or flickering video screens, no axe shredding. Despite their ten years of experience and steady record sales, these guys have never sold out. I can’t think of many bands that can hold on like that (Dave Matthews, I’m looking in your direction…no matter how you justify it, if you put Julia Roberts in your music video, you sold out, dude). Case in point: during a sort-of lull in the music, the band gave some lucky audience member a tree. They gave her a tree and told her to take pictures of it as it grew and to send them to cakemusic.com because the tree would grow and flourish and she would shrink and rot. I felt stoned just watching it.

I understand after re-reading this that the most incredible thing about that show was it’s perfectly tweaked subtlety. Their weirdness doesn’t translate well to paper. What I can tell you is that I walked out of there grinning like an idiot, satisfied to the center and in desperate need of a shower. Not because of the heat either. My happy heart felt dirty for no apparent reason and I kind of enjoyed it. Cake the band was so flawless that it was hard to differentiate the live version from the album version. No ad-libbing, jamming, wandering solos, even the delicious little hey-oh!s and Yah!s were per recording. I can’t think of another band that I’ve seen ever that rolls like that. Yes fans, they did “Arco Arena.” They did “Comfort Eagle” and an interesting cover of Black Sabbath’s “War Pigs.” The trumpet/vocals/maracas/keyboard/secondary percussion guy was spot-on and that trumpet especially was so tasty, poured over the layers of fantastic-ness that it covered the amphitheater in sticky, creepy, honey. Delicious. Go see Cake. Go buy up all their CD’s, hop the next flight to Austin TX or San Francisco CA and see them for yourself. Tilt your head slightly at the gauche-ness of the whole production. Enjoy the guitar guy. Enjoy the horn. Enjoy the feel of the breeze on your skin (?).

Here are a few words of description to help you along:
Pleasant
Uncomfortable
Technical
Heroine
Beard
Brass Balls
Tree

But on to the real review: the amphitheater at the Frederick Meijer Gardens. Rule #1: never buy tickets to an event there. Every major act (and they get some decent names) can be had free of the exorbant prices their box office asks (Lyle Lovett is $65, whatever). If you can think of a parody group of guards, this place has them. The lady that took our tickets/ID’d us for wrist bands/checked our purses for cameras and explosives was more than one hundred years old. Even if you’re not into old-lady-tackling don’t worry about it, all you need to waltz into the gate unpaid is a wristband. If you feel like buying a roll of your own for your personal soirées and BBQ’s and what-have-you’s, they are the American Flag ones and readily available anywhere that sells rolls of tickets and bulk plastic ware and frilly toothpicks. Gordon Foods or Kent Novelty I’d recommend. Still don’t feel like spending the $6.50? Our wristbands (which were acquired only after she asked what year I was born, and refused to look at my ID) were so loose that we could have had that place at half-capacity off of only two wristbands. A ten year old kid could drink there (seriously dude, we were both a little sloppy so if you don’t tell your mom we totally made out I won’t tell her about the Wii porn you had bootlegged from Japan. Deal?) if he had enough allowance left to buy a beer.

The acoustics are solid if not a little cloudy, the setting sun made for a beautiful and sweaty backdrop, and the crowd was fuddy-duddy at best. Why do people sit down for this stuff? This was a crazy, one-in-a-million session of bizarro intensity and you’re all camped out on your folding chairs full of picnic dinner. What the fuck? This isn’t the Pops, this is a rock show and a good one at that. Stand up a minute, shake all the laziness off your flabby ass and get into it. Don’t even worry about the little drunk kids stumbling all over the place, they’ll all be passed out later and you can just grab yours on the way out. Hell, they can guard your deck furniture. So for a jazz ensemble, choral concert, or snivelley female singer/songwriter piano player I wouldn’t rule it out but for a rock show that wanted so much to be rowdy, this ain’t the venue. He told us to act like angry Vikings for pete sake. If it’s Cake you seek, opt for a dark smelly barroom. If you’re down with the outdoors, go to Founder’s when they have their doors open. If you like sitting on the grass and interrupting the performers with your crinkling Jimmy John’s wrapper, see Bela Fleck at the zoo. Don’t pay all that money for the Meijer Gardens when you can sneak in just as easily, and don’t bother with your crappy fake ID, who’s terrible production and obvious inauthenticity would be lost on the blue-hair who’s job it is to detain you. Lest you want to insult him, save it for the Korean beer-lord out in Wyoming. Now that guy is a worthy adversary.

The rock-show killers at the Meijer Gardens are the Meijer Garden Members. They pay $60-$100 a year to get passes to the gardens and opportunities for early-buy tickets to the summer concert series. They are family folks and old people and D-Rock (who was kind enough to use his clout to get me and KP tickets, thanks, Bubba) and generally they (besides D-Rock, he’s aiight) clog up the lawn with their patio chairs and coolers. They bring their little children, and generally don’t condone any rocking out whatsoever. They like to oogle the little freaks gathered in front of the stage. Being one of those freaks, it’s uncomfortable. They see the front of the stage as a place for little kids to twirl around until they make themselves sick and Uncle Karl to look like an ass while he tries to dance with them. Again, if you’re going to see a show at the Gardens, chose it wisely. And don’t worry about buying a ticket. Or being 21 to get beer.

THEN AT 3:30 AM…
We hopped in my little, gas-efficient car and took off for Detroit and the Stanley Cup Victory Parade. But don’t tell my work, they think I was very sick that day (cough!). Just know this: if you happened to see the weather report for West Michigan that day, you will have seen that the whole state was covered with a thunderstorm, except the city of Detroit. For the first time ever. Even the cloud of perma-gross that lays over that city like a dust blanket lifted long enough for the georgeous sun to burn a few cheeks, half-cook the raw octopi in attendance, and kiss the Cup along with Saint Osgood, Cheli, and Drapes. This is proof that Jesus loves the Stanley Cup. Millions of people showed up to show their support, collect free collectables, (in me and KP’s case) whore themselves out, and boo unpopular Mayor Kiwami Kilpatrick, who had the stones to stand up and speak anyway. Kip, Kim, Bubba, my hockey buddies, whatever will we do until October? If anybody out there wants to go hide in the bushes at training camp with me in Traverse City, let’s get something together. I hear that’s how Kim wants to spend her Bachelorette party. I think I feel more food poisoning coming on (cough!)…but until then, here’s a few things that are going on right here around town.

Waterfront Film Festival in Saugatuck- June 12-15, Saugatuck MI. No better way to kick off summer than by sitting inside watching movies. But, if that’s what you’re into, this one is supposed to be pretty cool. There’s a parade on Thursday, and a Rick James cover band, which will pretty much rule. The downside? Your buzz will be blown when you realize that the climax is supposed to be watching movies. Filmmakers and award-winners from all over the world. Artists, film snobs, potheads. Oh yeah, and bring your wallet. Bundle passes are in the hundreds and films and seminars are $10 a pop. Have fun with that one, Howard Hughes.

Eastown Bizarre Bazaar and Reed’s Lake Art Festival- June 21st 9-5pm. Check out the randomest of all that Eastown has to offer. Live music of the jass/folk/ethnic variety, spicy food, and lots of art for sale but mostly just secondhand stuff. Get a henna tattoo on your foot and pay that wacky lady $5 to read your fortune with a bundle of sticks and a bell. She will dance around you and not tell you anything you really want to know. This is like a pre-street fair, not a bad way to blow your afternoon. Then you need to keep walking down Wealthy till you get to Reed’s Lake, where you will find tents and tents of artists with overpriced merch. But if you’re really lucky, you just might get to see the horse door. It’s definitely the highlight.

Leon Russell at the Intersection- June 15. I don’t care who you are or what you think you’re doing, this is sure to be a strange and excellent show. The grandfather of psychedelic piano rock and all that Elton John strived to be before he got all Disney is entombed in Leon’s luxuriant beard. GO TO THIS SHOW. IT WILL BE EXCELLENT. I’ll see you there.

Billy and Sammy at Putt Putt’s Bar- June 19. Bill Kenney is back temporarily from Arizona and these guys together are so much fun live that you can consider yourselves reconciled for going to Putt Putt’s Bar in the first place. In fact, maybe this will be the Westside bar safari I was telling you about? More to come as soon as I figure this out…