Have you read the history of the Zorthian Ranch? It’s pretty fucking incredible, even by L.A./hippie standards. And this link doesn’t even get into the naked human statuary or Richard Feynman…
Anyway, yes, I wrote a review of the marvelous time I had on Saturday, and sadly it’s not even fully inclusive, since so many wonderful things were all happening at once! Below is a tiny tidbit from the long form review, an almost snide snippet about Tom Brosseau (though I meant everything with a big bunch of love!): go here for the rest.
… lithe blondie Tom Brosseau is exactly like 80s folk icon Phranc. Okay, actually he’s way weirder, all angelic with his blond hair and not a sign of beard or sideburn or out-of-place speck of dust, tanned like a man who works in the corn fields of a cinematic past yet completely immaculate, his jeans and billowy white tee hanging off him like he’s in a Levi’s 501 commercial from the 90s. Even his high-register voice is… otherworldly, that’s the only way to put it. His songs about oil field disasters in North Dakota and loved ones leaving (“I’m drinking malted milk with my eyes shut tight … I’m not expecting you to be there when I open them”)seems even more true, because they’re not songs, they’re the declarations of seraphim.
Oh shit, I forgot to mention that I introduced Stephen Kalinich to an audience of hundreds, right before Beachwood Sparks went up (so it was almost like I introduced Beachwood Sparks!). Here I am doin’ it, in all my dashiki-donning glory:
And here’s footage of Stephen reading!