theology&geometry

… although this year’s lineup is pretty sweet, so I really recommend that you make it down there if you can.

My colleagues and I will be posting updates to our live-coverage Tumblr tonight, tomorrow and Sunday — gomemphis.tumblr.com. Follow us there or on Twitter: @gomemphis. You can also watch the action at our Memphis in May info site, where lots of tips and tricks are posted for your perusal. We’ll be the first to know if the river decides to swallow Downtown, so stay tuned for that.

Happy weekend!

The bulk of my day was spent down at Tom Lee Park covering the last day of Beale Street Music Festival. Rather than reblog about it here, let me just link to the two pieces I turned in to the paper. ONE and TWO. No, I guess it’s not Great Journalism, but it is something. I was a little thrown by not having a blog this year in which to deposit my brain droppings, so I wasn’t quite sure what sort of tone to take when sending my dispatches to the desk. Eh, I guess it worked out okay.

Now, photos. Somehow I managed only to shoot white dudes. But, while that fact disappoints me for reasons I imagine I don’t have to explain to you, nameless internet pixel person, I am happy to report that the white dudes I shot were pretty hammy and made great rock ‘n’ roll expressions. So, here are a few of my favorites from Day Three of BSMF*.

(I also tweeted like a champ. Find my tweets here.)

* I took some good pictures of Vince Neil and his band, but I signed some crap that said — I think, because I didn’t exactly have time to have my attorney interpret it for me — that they own the photos. So I won’t be posting those here. Because I can’t afford to have some fucking Mötley Crüe lawyer come after me for whatever offense that would be. I love that I was asked to sign some stupid shit signing over my photo rights while kids in the front row could snap away unabated, with no legal ramifications. Music industrial complex? You are free to die, for all I care.

Indulge me one more cross post (which I guess isn’t even technically a cross post since I’m just linking, but whatevs, I’m exhausted).

One of the things I never thought I’d be able to say is “Snoop Dogg’s entourage spewed champagne on me,” but, well, life is full of surprises. (I was too busy protecting my lens to get a photo of said spewage, so, in its stead, please enjoy this photo of Snoop strutting.)

I wasn’t sure I was going to make it downtown today. I woke up feeling like cold death. My left leg hates me and pulses with resentment when I’m standing. It also refuses to bend or twist without giving me hell. The rest of me is sore, just from wearing unfamiliar shoes and carrying a laptop and camera bag all over creation. I just didn’t foresee coaxing my body into another evening spent in the cold and rain, but Jon Sparks peer pressured me and I went down there — unshowered, so HA — and gave it several good hours. I’m glad I did, honestly, even thought I’m fairly sure my knee is infected (it’s hot to the touch and has a pretty gnarly coloration, yeeeeeee). It’s cool, though. I’m healthy and I’ll get it fixed straightaway.

After I spend the next twelve hours sleeping, that is.

I hate to keep crossposting, but I am so tired and I’ve said what needs to be said over at the BSMF blog.

Al Green at BSMF from Lindsey Turner on Vimeo.

I didn’t realize until late Saturday that my media pass would get me into the photo pits. Last year, my basic media pass only got me to the media trailer; you had to have additional clearance to shoot artists from the pit (which is something that I think I’ll always be starstruck by). I assumed it was the same this year since I just had a generic media pass and not a photo pass. But I was hanging out in front of the barricade at the Los Lobos stage before they came on, and a MIM volunteer saw me shooting and told me I could come inside the pit. Derrrrr, bokay!

That definitely made the festival more interesting for me. There are honestly so many pictures of people caked in mud that you can take before you start to go stir crazy.

So later Saturday night, I found myself shooting The Roots and realizing (after the rest of the world, no doubt) that they are badass. I didn’t get any really good photos of them (it takes me a while to get my bearings when shooting at night … in the rain … with other photographers who actually take pictures for a living) but I did come away with a resolution to download their albums, and I’ve not been able to stop listening to them since.

The Roots at BSMF from Lindsey Turner on Vimeo.

I came home with mud-caked jeans but I was much better off than on Friday, thanks to Courtney, who lent me her galoshes.

I’ve already recounted this harrowing tale here at the BSMF blog.

The only thing I wish to add is this: Is there any irony in a band that’s straight edge and vegetarian and super into PETA encouraging its crowd to beat the shit out of each other? No irony? Just dumb? Okay.

Oh and one more thing. When I was recounting this story to my mom today, she was, of course, horrified (and relayed the story to my dad, who was ready to kick some Rise Against ass, of course) but also amused because she remembered when I was deep into the *alternative* music back in the mid-’90s, when moshing was really taking hold and getting popular, and I thought all that shit was so cool. She said she remembers the exact moment that I entered into snooty teenagerdom (we all left the same place one day and I walked exactly fifteen paces in front of my parents and pretended that they weren’t even there, heh).

I think she’s relieved that I’ve grown into such an old lady so quickly.

I am too.

Okay, kids, once again I’ll be down at Music Fest this year, logging photographs and observations of the goings-on. I’m pretty excited since I’m actually getting to go all day, all three days. Usually I either have to skip a day or go down for partial days. Of course, I’m sure I’ll be sick of it all by the end of the weekend, because three days of anything is enough to make me spontaneously develop an allergy. But I can guarantee one thing: I’ll have a tan by Monday.

If you are so inclined (and my company would be super appreciative of the pageviews), give this here page and this here blog a couple of hits now and again over the next couple of days, would you? Or subscribe to the goodness (provided by Jon Sparks, Chris Blank, and me) in your magical little feed reader. Whatever floats your fancy boat, fancy pants. Jeez.

Let me know if there are things/people/acts/concepts/ideas you can’t articulate you’d like to see me blog about. I’ve done this a couple of times before, so I’m trying to find fresh angles on the same ol’ shiz. I promise to keep the talk of port-o-johns and mud to a minimum.

The teevee tells me that the weather’s gone all orange and pink and red. It’s disgusting, mixing those colors like that.

About an hour ago I was driving north on Avalon, taking a right onto Madison, when I saw the biggest fucking lightning streak I have ever seen. It was so big because it was seemingly right in fucking front of me, and its union with whatever it struck created the loudest and sickest boom-snap-crackle-fizz in the air around me, and set off car alarms all around the Piggly Wiggly.

It made my teeth hurt.

So, like many other level-headed young adults in this city, I’ll be spending the evening at the Beale Street Music Festival downtown on the riverfront, blogging for the Commercial Appeal‘s MIM blog. I’ve got Courtney’s galoshes, Donna’s raincoat, and, if I can sneak out of the office in an hour or two, all night to devote to some mud-stompin’, hurricane-drinkin’, and music-listening.

Should be a good time. If I don’t get electrocuted.

[for May 6]

These ladies were working it for Project Pat, who drew a ginormous crowd that I very nearly did not make it out of. The suburban kids love them some Project Pat. I had never felt more square than when I realized that I wasn’t sure which dude on the stage was Project Pat, so I didn’t really know where to point my camera. Ha.

But for those of you playing along at home, it’s this guy:

Um, right?

Project 365

[for May 5]

Their set rocked. Being down in the photo pit for the first three songs was fantastic. Then getting spit back out into the crowd was devastating. To go from the view above to the one below in ten short minutes is pretty humbling. But it gave me an excellent opportunity to observe some retarded audience drama about punches and shoes and cops.

Here’s a little taste of Wolfmother for you:

Today I’m off work so I’m going downtown for the entire day. I’m looking forward to taking pictures in daylight for once.

[for May 4]

This one’s for FearlessVK.

Project 365