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Roadburn 2015 Trip Pt. 5: Onward Procession

Posted in Features on April 10th, 2015 by JJ Koczan

skuggsja soundcheck

04.10.15 — 13.37 — Fri. Afternoon — 013 Office

The office is mostly quiet now, the ‘zines folded and sent out and just about everyone else off doing something while I’m still here at the desk, doing my best to pretend this is my existence and not some aberration that I’ve been fortunate enough to encounter along an otherwise discouraging “professional” path. You re-remember the details, things like the smell and taste of the coffee from the machine in the office, the way the lights in the hallway outside the Main Stage room seem to come from nowhere, the wub-wub sound of a soundcheck from up here, the ink on my fingernail from folding the day’s issue, and so on. Onions cooking in the food tent, cigarettes and other smokes. This morning on my walk here, Weirdo Canyon had a sharpness to its smell that was easily identifiable as vomit. It wore it like a scar from last night, no doubt to be opened anew in a few hours.

I managed to get last night’s review up by around 03.00, which felt pretty good, and Skyped with The Patient Mrs. for a minute or two before trying to crash out. Trying and failing, I should say. It was closer to 06.00 than not by the time I actually fell asleep, the extra hours I’d saved by trying to work efficiently all day leading up to actually putting the post together squandered as I lay in the dark, my eyes closed, a pillow over my head, unable to actually let the day go. You ever not been able to sleep and get mad about it, and then being mad keeps you awake even more? It was like that, only I was too tired to be mad. More resigned, really. And then the alarm went off at 09.00 to come to the office andfriday wcd cover finalize the second issue of Weirdo Canyon Dispatch with Lee, and I was awake again. Still feels like Wednesday, never mind Thursday. If not for the schedule on the back cover of the ‘zine or the fact that I saw Wovenhand last night, I’d have no idea which day this was.

If you’d like to check out today’s issue, by the way, it’s online here. Paul Verhagen contributed the live photos from yesterday and Terrorizer‘s José Carlos Santos did the review. I’m humbled to be in such esteemed company.

No dinner last night, nor time for it, which is something I’ll rectify today, but with Enslaved and Wardruna and Virus and Sólstafir and so on, there’s still a lot to see. Some less running around than yesterday, about which you won’t hear me complain. Beat, but looking forward to it. Roadburn only comes once a year. You pound more coffee, take your ibuprofen four at a time, grab a bottle of water whenever you can and get your ass back out there, or you spend the rest of the next 12 months wishing you had. I’m already kicking myself for missing SubRosa yesterday, who have become the talk of the fest. Finger way off the pulse. Up my nose, figuratively speaking. Excellent vibe all around though, with a lot of familiar faces and some new ones too. The people at the 013 are fantastic. It’s work to do, and maybe easy for me to idealize coming from somewhere else, but I can’t imagine better work or a better place to do it.

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