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Billy and I (and a few friends) headed southeast on 33 to a little town called Nelsonville to surround ourselves with a weekend full of hills with delicious green, grassy knolls, local goodies and great music. Loretta Lynn and Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings were the big headliners ( as well as the Detroit Cobras and a few others that were equally awesome). But, I was most excited for a lazy Sunday on the lawn with the impending intimacy of The Swell Season. It was just as I suspected. There were only a few who stayed for Sunday afternoon. It was quiet, not too sunny. We stayed on the blanket for awhile, but then I had to mosey my way forward, closer to the stage. I only had a film camera left to use, all batteries had died, no juice left to record the show. So I quietly made my way through the small group of people who were as close as possible, all with their digital handhelds recording every morsel as if it would be as amazing later as it sounded in the air.
As I watched Marketa watching Glen from the side of the stage with such endearing passion, it made my eyes tearful most of the time. It was almost too close and personal. I actually felt as if I had been transplanted to their backyard instead of the opposite. I have a feeling, though, that they felt just the same.
copyright skbg 2010
copyright skbg 2010
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