Two hours east of Seattle this weekend a mountain of energy was created deep in the woods, far away from civilization, far away from everything except what really matters. Photosynthesis 1.0, presented by Collective Flow, brought together old friends and new, a stupid number of local DJs that we all know and love, along with a copious amount of hula-hooping, fire-twirling, bubbles in the breeze, giggling children, hours and hours of music and dancing, silly dogs, a deep indigo sky bursting with stars and framed by evergreens, legions of mimosas, body paint galore, and a naked guy. Now this was a party. Up on top of the ridge it was sunny and warm in the day, windy and cold as hell at night. I arrived in a sheer sundress and hours later had on not one but two pair of wool socks, June be damned, living the wisdom that there is no bad weather, only inappropriate clothing. Good thing I brought some.

Beats, beeps, scratches, and whomps found a temporary home in the forest and were sent out into the trees from three stages. The combination of the great outdoors and electronic music generates an incredible sense of enchantment; what should be an odd match of opposites instead creates an all-encompassing feeling of happiness, of wholeness, of everything being right in the world. I pitched my tent by the Main Stage, the Nama Stage, which gave me easy access to the art dome, the big heart-shaped campfire, and to the festival kitchen to whom I must give mad, mad props. A huge amount of time and effort went into the food preparation; nobody at the festival went hungry because heaps of people worked very hard to make sure of it. Every time I passed by the kitchen there was a flipping buffet of healthy food, made with love. Pho the first night, then veggie gumbo, a van-load of tamales, A ROAST PIG, fresh fruit, homemade breakfast muffins; everything I tried was absolutely fantastic. Mad, mad, props to the Sweet Peeps kitchen for their hard work and delicious chow.

The Main Stage rocked consistently for two nights with sick DJs from all over the Pacific Northwest. Novatron laid it down in the middle of the dance floor, his dog Ziggy running around like an idiot and the rest of us shaking our souls and asses for the artist. I never ever miss one of Novatron’s live sets, he is a master. My favorite player of the festival though (do I have to say it?) was the brilliantly original Noisemaker who played two random time slots around 5AM and 5PM. Come on now yall, this DJ belongs in the middle of the fire and frenzy and madness of the night. That is his home. Noisemaker had the freshest and most unique sets of the party; I really loved watching people stroll up who had never before heard his brand of crunk. They first look a little confused by the frog noises and Big Band music, then they start smiling, and then they start dancing. Curious DJs wandered up to check out his set as well, and one of my friends laid out the reason he loves Noisemaker: “It’s just like, ‘I’m Noisemaker. I’ll do what I want. I spin Britney Spears, bitch, and you’re gonna love it and you’re going to dance.” And dance we did.

The second stage out in the woods was Vex Village, where I spent the least amount of time, though I did catch the unbelievable KJ Sawka set on Friday night; could he possibly be a more bad-ass drummer? No. He couldn’t. And do the ladies love him or what! “Blah blah blah I love Kevin Sawka” is all I heard that night. I was also lucky to catch Von Dewey on the second stage as well who laid down quite a fat set of beats for the crowd.

The three stages were a nice walk apart from each other, but traveling the cold path between them birthed ample opportunities for random social encounters. I love being a nomad, wondering around in the dark woods by myself (sorry Mom), meeting strangers and strange friends in the night. On the liminal path, that dirt space between worlds and stages and social circles, anything can happen- there are no rules.

My favorite home of Photosynthesis 1.0 was the rock-strewn dance floor of the third stage, the Orca Sound Lab. When I came upon the area the first evening, it was nothing but three speakers on the grass by some trees. The following day however the wooded area was transformed into a sacred circle of dance. The beats started out strong there Saturday afternoon with Awggie and the Mendicants, and then HOLY FREAKING TECHNO! Can I say it again? HOLY FREAKING TECHNO.

What had been just three speakers in the forest became a temple of unrelenting beats that continued deep and deeper into the night as one DJ after another ripped it in half, a blazing lineup that spiraled through the forest into a incessant explosion, a rampage, a frenzy. The stage was on fire the whole night; this is the reason I don’t mention any of the headliners of the festival in my review. I was possessed by the techno. Nordic Soul ignited the madness with quite the ridiculous set; he cannot hide the fact that he thoroughly enjoys what he does to the dance floor as much as we do. I am in love with this DJ. The techno continued its unabated aural penetration as the evening continued; the one-hour sets went quickly and we were treated to a succession of gifted electronic artists. Manos was laying down straight crazy, dubby shit; Panty Control, Milkplant, Brian S., Jesse, and to all the DJs that night who I met and can’t remember your name, you guys destroyed us there in the middle of the forest. The sloped and rocky dance floor did not stop the party from giving it up to the Dance.

I danced in the forest all night and into the morning, not a creature of my own volition but a slave to the music. The beats go inside of my body and move it for me, I have no choice in the matter. The incongruent blend of electronic music and campfires puts something in your soul that cannot be explained, it can only be felt. And can I shout out to the DJs who dance? I absolutely love to see you guys on the floor getting down. I love it. I nourish myself with the symbiotic relationship between the DJ and the dancers and the energy it creates. Music changed my life, music saved my life, music is my life. There is no one in existence who can say that music has not contributed positively to their world, and most of you probably even agree with my three hippie-face declarations above.

However at any festival or party there always seems to be one DJ who completely destroys the dance floor and whose name is on everyone’s hungover lips the next morning around campfires and smoke circles. At Photosynthesis 1.0 it was Ctrl_Alt_Del. This boy absolutely rocked the minds and bodies of everyone who heard his set late Saturday night, his own as well if I am not mistaken. I don’t know crack about minimal techno, but my body does. I feel the energy trapped in the pulsing beats, the intense throbbing that stays just below the surface, rising and falling and threatening to bubble uncontrollably to the top of our minds. Ctrl_Alt_Del kept us on that threshold; speaking to our subconscious desires and the nethermost chasms of our very beings with the pulsing undercurrent. Techno rouses the ID, the animal inside of us all who just wants to grab the person dancing next to us and run off into the woods naked and screaming, social-circle cohesion be damned. Ctrl_Alt_Del woke up this beast on his dance floor, and short of going raving mad and frothing at the mouth and howling at the moon, we danced. We danced all night in the woods like our ancestors did for hundreds of thousands of years, warming ourselves with the fire and our feet.

Which, of course, is why we go to festivals; to dance on the earth with bare feet, to experience the feeling of walking up on a campfire encircled by strangers in the middle of the night, to see children playing free in the forest, to wear feathers in our hair, to walk paths drenched in falling light alone. Time returns to it’s true and undefined nature and exists only as a DJ lineup. For a few days, we commune with the earth and each other as humans have done long, long before the time of texting and Myspace and traffic. We share food, and water, and energy, and life. The weekend was almost perfect.

Sunday morning I woke up and found out that a boy had died. His name was Shawn-e. I met him the night before, he was fishing for ravers with a pole and a glow stick. He caught one; it was me. We said our hellos-my-name-is and went along our separate ways in the dark forest. I really wish I could leave this out, that I could skip this unpleasant part of my annoyingly positive review, that I could keep the weekend lingering in your minds as singularly and wickedly beautiful. But I can’t. That morning as I sat at a friend’s campsite with a circle of strangers sharing a bottle of warm Champagne, a sound met our ears, the echoes of a girl weeping in the woods. The small circle of humans froze. Our eyes locked; we were strangers bound together by the sound of the absolute despair of one of our own. Once again this weekend we were reminded that we are all connected. We all live together and we will all die.

But you are alive, right now, reading this. So guess what? You have to live for Shawn-e now. All of you. You have to dance a little harder, you have to sing a little louder, you have to live a little more. You have to devour every new experience that presents itself to you and is good. You have to suck out the marrow of life just a little more now, not just for Shawn-e but for all of your friends who drop away from this world. Add Shawn-e to the long list of reasons why you refuse to have anything but an absolutely incredible life, rich with experience and human connections. My heart aches for the friends and family who knew Shawn-e well; know that I met him but a few tiny moments on this earth and in that brief encounter, he made me smile and laugh.

The music was turned off, the campers slowly left, and the energy dissipated, carried away bit by bit in each of us to be dispersed around the Pacific Northwest. I packed up the car and went to pay my respects to the dance floors, finding once again that the third stage was just a few speakers sitting in the middle of the woods. The only evidence of the party mania and techno fever the night before was a charred campfire and grass stomped away by dancing feet. Ashes to ashes. I made a huge trash sweep over the forest campground and found only one gum wrapper on the grounds; this place had been well-loved and taken care of. I walked away from Photosynthesis 1.0 filled up, with renewed inspiration to live every single day as fully as I possibly can.

Heading home over a rock path with a few wrong turns and a late lunch at random cafe #3 in Cle Elum (complete with deer chandeliers and a bear skin rug on the wall), my carload was salivating for more electronic music. Seriously. Drool was dripping off our chins. Thankfully I had a downloaded CD of Ctrl_Alt_Del in my car- however it only plays when my navigator has not jammed a second disc into my car’s stereo system. Alas, for the two-hour ride home, we were stuck in radio hell, which is no mild exaggeration after a weekend of such mind-melting music; going back to Top 40 was pure aural torture. I have a bad habit of screaming at DJs to drop the beat when they hold out too long, which is what I was yelling at my radio by the time we reached North Bend. Jazzy-F Lips on KE-whatever didn’t seem to hear me, but somehow I made it back to my favorite home-of-the-moment, Seattle.

I am satiated with positive energy from this weekend. Thank you, thank you, thank you, to everyone who shared this time in the woods with me, every single one of you: the people who worked hard to give us a party, the new friends I made, the people whose names I’ve already forgotten, the ones of you I didn’t get to meet and the one of you who will not dance again. To the girl in the woods, I wept with you. Thank you for sharing your energy, all of you, and in exchange I give you my words and will share my filled-up spirit to everyone I meet.

Damn I sound like a hippie.

So what is this techno music I keep going on about? Pulsing? The ID? The undercurrents of penetrating electronic beats that moves your body and fills up your head and will not goes away? Find out this Tuesday at Vito’s when Oi Vay gets MADE: Struggle, DJ Eddie, and Jeromino will be spinning a lovely evening of techno in an Italian mobster cafe; come out and dance and live a bit more than your normal weekday night. Who knows? It just might change your life.

If you would like to comment on Photosynthesis 1.0, or my review, or on some of the amazing DJ sets I missed because there are not two of me, please comment below. I would love it.

Click here to read more of my show reviews; click here to read all of my random blog posts.

Seattle band Head Like A Kite will release their CD titled “There Is Loud Laughter Everywhere” June 17th (tomorrow).

I met with Dave Einmo from the band to talk about the release, his music cohort Trent and how they got the name Head Like A Kite.

Tune in later this week where I’ll follow up with the full length interview.
Here’s a teaser of our conversation:

Head Like a Kite is hosting a CD Release party at Neumos on Thursday June 26th. Dig this, the show is FREE!!!
Doors open at 8pm.

See event details at Culturemob.

The line up includes:
Head Like A Kite
Smoosh
Foscil
Glue
The Animals At Night
MC Troy Nelson (KEXP)

I found out that the Twitterrific application is coming to the iPhone. This is gonna change the way you or your friends or your kids communicate forever. Twitter is the product of Iconfactory, which won an Apple Design Award by the way. The Twitter concept is fairly new to me, but I ain’t that savvy. Twitter is the creation of the people from the offices of Obvious. Twitter is a way to transfer information in real time. Like I tend to twitter about the stuff I’m doing. People who “follow” me can receive a news feed about that. Endless usage really. Twitterrific is an app that connects you to twitter. You can post “tweets” and connect to others via phone internet…whatever. I’m not aware of a PC app for this but I know it’s available for Mac users.

Now it has an interface on iPhone too? Triumph or Tragedy right? America and perhaps other parts of the globe, loves to tell people what they’re doing. It’s a fundamental shift I tell ya! Have you noticed that when the smoking ban was initiated a few years back; smart phones and texting skyrocketed? Hey, I’m just sayin’!

This morning I read an article about Twitterrific on Macworld written by Dan Moren. Dan breaks down his thoughts about the pros and cons of this application.
http://www.macworld.com/article/133968/2008/06/iphone_twitterrifc.html

It was an informative article and it seems to me that we are about to witness a major shift in behavior.

Culturemob now has a Twitter, AIM and MSN account for you to send us your feedback. My colleague Brummel wrote a blog about it.

When I first started to listen to the Molly Shannon Molly Shannon CD You Think Yr The Doctor, I Think I’m The Sheriff (Fir Traders Union), I had quickly summed this up as a creative artsy collection of songs. After listening the the entire works, I realized it was not that simple.

Photo by Kyle M. Peterson

For example, I can hear a multitude of influences (Modest Mouse, Sage, Rebecca Moore, the late Jeff Buckley, Peter Gabriel…etc). Yet they remain uniquely original in their delivery. So far my favorite track is Alice Liddell. The cello towards the end transforms the dynamics of this track to something you only hear in dreams. The album is a mixture of ambiance, roots, folk, soundtrack. It’s well thought out and tastefully done. The vocal styles vary throughout the music which makes it very interesting to listen too. On Emilie du Chatelet, I was reminded of Jeff Buckley (as previously mentioned). This too was pulled off respectfully.

Molly Shannon Molly Shannon isn’t trying to full anyone with this album. There are no gimmicks or killer hooks to speak of. What you get is a chance to look inside the creative engine of two seemingly creative artists. They push you and pull you in all sorts of directions. It sounds like theme songs to the most amazing dream you ever had in your life. This was my first time hearing MSMS. It won’t be my last! Release info for the CD is vague so you’ll have to do your own research.

There was a rumor that MSMS had a myspace music page but when I went to myspace.com/mollyshannonmollyshannon there was nothing there. To find out more about them, you should go to mollyshannonmollyshannon.com…um…well, going there will tell you more about MSMS so be prepared. Hey, I think they’re damn fun! Just like cats.

I tend to talk about artists that have an event coming up in the city. As it turns out, I have no information on any upcoming events. So instead, i thought I’d point you to the latest movie by their namesake Molly Shannon at Culutremob.com. Turns out Molly Shannon hasn’t released a film this year yet. Dang!

Discover Great Events at Culturemob.com

Customer response has been one of the biggest influences in the decisions we’ve made at CultureMob. From bugs to feature requests to UI suggestions, we’ve made several changes based on the feedback that we receive from our users.

And we’d love to do it even more: We’ve opened up Twitter, AIM, and MSN accounts to have more avenues for you to communicate with us.

• Twitter: CultureMob
• AIM: culturemobster
• MSN: feedback at culturemob.com

So give us a shout-out; and feel free to also use the feedback form or email us directly. We’ll talk to you soon…

I went to Neumos the other night to interview the rock band Russian Circles which is now on tour. Dave Turncrantz (Drums), Mike Sullivan (Guitar) and Brian Cook (Bass Guitar) make up this band from Chicago (although I did find out that Brian is from Seattle). I also wrote a review about them on their event page at culturemob(fred roth). The guys were about six days in (touring) when I found them in Seattle. They were in the green room relaxing before the show. They seemed in the mood to have some fun.

Click on the video and find out what we talked about.

Their new CD “Station” (Suicide Squeeze) is available online at iTunes, Amazon as well as other online stores. You can also find their CD at many local stores (ask your favorite retailer if they have “Station” by Russian Circles. The songs are powerful, intense and melodic. They’re a great sounding band that goes about it the right way.

Their tour is extensive but they’ll be in San Diego at the Casbah on the 16th (June) and they play in Phoenix at the Clubhouse on the 18th (June). I’m looking forward to seeing them back here in Seattle.

Find more events at culturemob.com

When the Seattle music community gets all excited about how the City Noise Ordinance will destroy the local music scene, they are forgetting one thing. The Seattle music scene has a long history of being underground. One could argue that’s what gives the scene it’s passion - the fact that very few outside of its own ranks support, or even acknowledge it.

I’m not saying that club owners and musicians shouldn’t be up in arms about the city trying to regulate and arguably shut down selective night spots. My opinions on such matters are definitely the opposite. It angers me greatly that the state liquor board and city government seem to coordinate to target specific venues. It’s very unfortunate that in a town known for it’s music scene, the city doesn’t support it, or even consider it worthy of the heaps of dollars it spends on supporting the symphony, art gallery, ballet and opera.

To put the icing on the cake, the City Counsel seems to be completely incapable of separating the local live music clubs, which rarely have incidents of violence, from the meat markets that often generate such events. Furthermore, the city regulators seem to be handing out building permits for condos in neighborhoods like Capitol Hill, Fremont and Ballard, where they obviously come in conflict with tax-paying venue owners who have been established in those neighborhoods for fifteen years or more. Can anyone say “gentrification”.

Regardless of all this, it is a false statement to say that these circumstances will kill the Seattle music scene, as many of scene’s advocates have. Seattle music has survived despite such threats for its entire existence. The most heinous of these efforts, the Teen Dance Ordinance, was put into effect with the music community saying that it would crush their ability to generate revenue. Yet today, twenty-three years after it was put into effect and six years after it was repealed, the local scene is still thriving. In fact the ordinance was in place during the grunge years, which many would consider the heyday of Seattle music.

I suggest that the DIY attitude that is predominant in Seattle’s music scene will remain in spite of these obstacles. It’s in our blood, at the core of the hearts of Sub Pop, Barsuk, Broken Time, Origin, Kill Rock Stars and many, many more. Musicians, promoters, record labels and scenesters will continue to make something from nothing, not just in Seattle but in Olympia, Bellingham and Portland as well.

Every night shows go down in the most unlikely of places… illegal after-hours clubs, coffeehouses, independent art galleries, farmers markets and loft parties. Clubs like the infamous Vogue, Comet Tavern, Blue Moon, Gibson’s and Speakeasy Cafe’ operated for many years without live music. Yet the supportive owners of the venues opened their doors to musicians and promoters in order to keep the scene alive, often making themselves targets for the city government in the process.

Every weekend in Seattle, hundreds of music artists perform in coffeehouses like Hotwire in Shoreline, C&P in West Seattle, El Diablo in Queen Anne and World Cup in the Ravenna neighborhood. Music is not an integral part of these businesses, yet they support the scene anyway. Promoters will continue rent out the stage at the Rendezvous, promote nights at Faire Gallery, Honey Hole, Mars Bar or Mr. Spot’s Chai House, and insert live music into gallery openings and pubs of all shapes and sizes.

We can’t help it. We will not be stifled. No amount of city ordinances, liquor board crack downs and neighborhood complaints will dissuade us. Just a few years ago a complete concert series was held in the cargo space of a dilapidated seventy year-old ferry moored in Lake Union. In fact, I’m sketching the outline for this blog post after watching a friend’s band perform in a bowling alley in South Seattle. Tomorrow night I’m going to see a show in the storage room of brewery. We will not be put down.

I went to see Moby’s DJ set at the Showbox at the Market last night for a few reasons: sheer curiosity regarding his DJ skills, a $20 ticket price, and an insatiable desire for new musical experiences. I figured I would just chill out at a smooth Sunday night show, grab a beer and a seat in the back, perhaps even take a few notes.

Yeah, right. Like Moby was going to allow me to maintain any illusion that didn’t involve me being front and center and dancing my face off. I had a much better time than I expected to, and the music went straight inside of my body and moved it for me; I had no choice in the matter. The DJ brought out a very diverse group of Seattleites; I adore the random swirling currents of people at a show like this where you see a few regulars from every scene you hang out with in addition to a thousand other people that you have never seen on a dance floor before in your life. Where do they go every other night of the month? It’s a Seattle mystery.

I arrived around 11:30PM, too late to catch any but a couple of songs from the openers. Sadly I missed my favorite opening DJ Nordic Soul’s set completely; Colby B seemed to really light up the masses though, and I responded most to Bret Law’s energy- he really loved the what he was throwing down, hand gesturing and even putting his headphones on to the beat. Ah, unbridled enthusiasm! Passion is what humans respond to. DJs, take note: we love it when the you get into it! If you do, so will we. There is nothing less inspiring than a DJ who is so intent on twisting knobs and pressing buttons that he or she rarely looks up or smiles or interacts with the audience.

Moby did not disappoint in this area, or any other. For this first-timer, I somehow had the impression from his music and videos that he would be a serious-faced DJ, concentrating emphatically on his equipment. Maybe it was because Moby reminds me of that nerdy bald kid in we all knew in high school who was very artistically talented but socially inept. This is not the case. Moby was all smiles last night, clearly enjoying the effect of his beats on the crowd. He came out to touch the hands of the audience three times, driving the girls around me on the front row wild. I do want to state one truth regarding the front row at any show: if you get pissy because people are jumping and dancing and screaming around you, guess what? You don’t belong on the front row. Sorry to break it to you. I don’t go back to the bar area and go nuts, so don’t come to the front and go lame. The girl beside me actually sat down on the stage at one point during his set. Party foul, yo. Par-ty foul.

Moby’s eclectic set definitely represented his appeal to a wide variety of people, all present in their multitude of music personalities. A little dirty bass, a little more house, and a lot of techno; at various points in the show you would see different members of the audience going slightly nuts. Just a little bit though, as the crowd was mainstream-heavy, which I measure by the amount of “crazy girl” looks I get in a night. At hard core electronic music parties people on the dance floor understand and appreciate my unmitigated enthusiasm for the music, my raging dance fever, because they have it too.

Moby did sample some Moby, and of course we loved it; he laid down a choppy version of Porcelain, my favorite song off the album Play. With the beats parsed in, the song wasn’t quite so damn sad and heart-breaky. At the end of his set he walked up to the screaming crowd, soaking in the energy we were giving him, arms raised and eyes closed, for almost a minute before leaving the stage.

But the definite highlight of the night (besides getting to shake his hand three times) was the encore; Moby took us home. Home, where the grass is green and the girls are pretty. That’s right, Moby slung some good old G&R much to the delight of the crowd which was in just the right age bracket for Axl’s guitar riffs to stir up some potent coming-of-age verve. The beats started and Moby gave the hand signal: the cue to get-your-ass-up-on-stage-and-dance. He was waving us in! Without hesitation I jumped up onto the stage first, thinking for a split second I might be alone for the get-down, only to be joined a moment later by a mass of people who knocked to oblivion any drinks left on stage in the rush to get closer to the DJ.

We all rocked it like no one’s business mere feet away from the electronic superstar, and Moby was loving it. I was crammed against the DJ set-up at the very front of the mass of people pushing onto the stage, and thought during the heights of the encore frenzy that I might be crushed into the oblivion of the decks and merge forever with the music. However all 5′4″ of me has experience getting down (I’ll show you my scars from Rage Against the Machine’s moshpits later) and I held my ground. Usually my dance motions are upwardly oriented, of the bouncy sort, but during the last of Moby’s set I was completely leaning back, using the weight of the pushing crowd to support me as I grooved. It was absolutely thrilling to be in the epicenter of such deliriously positive energy.

Over a thousand people turned out for Moby’s DJ set; selling out the Showbox at the Market and prompting those outside without tickets to declare loudly on the streets, a là Eminem, “Moby, you’re too old, let go, NOBODY LISTENS TO TECHNO!”

The white boy is right. We don’t listen to techno; we live it, and Moby does too- with a big fat smile on his face the whole time.

Do you know someone who went to Moby’s DJ set at the Showbox? Might they help me figure out the mystery of the disappearing Seattle dance maniacs and where they hide out the rest of the year? Please forward a link for this post to them. United, we can ignite the Seattle electronic music scene and conquer the world, one beat at a time.

Thursday night on Capitol Hill class was in session and the bumpin’ crowd at Neumos got schooled proper-like by two professors of pimpin’, ?uestlove and Black Thought of The Roots. Hot off the opening stage for Erykah Badu at Marymoor Park, the two hip-hop superstars laid down the lessons of life for an eclectic crowd. The show drew people from all different scenes in Seattle- the electronic music kids, hipsters, hip-hopsters, dance freaks, nerds, curious skateboarders, innocent bystanders, and Blake Lewis, who is everywhere. They all came to enroll in Hip-Hop High; you might want to take notes because there will be a test. And get out your history textbooks because what went down last night was Old School, straight up and down like six o’clock.

Lesson 1: Give the ladies Biggie. During the opening DJ’s set, a gorgeous woman who could have been mistaken for Ms. Badu herself came up and asked me if there was any way to get the DJ to spin some Biggie; she was hungry for some East Coast flavor in her Thursday night soup. “Aks him,” I replied, and helped her out doing the deed myself (I have no fear of DJs; they only rarely bite). “Can you play some Biggie? This beautiful woman wants to hear him.” The DJ seemed to acquiesce to my request only to fail to drop said Biggie beats. DENIED! The hot chick was quite disappointed until the real show started and ?uestlove proceeded to show quite a bit of love to the East Coast and Mr. Smalls himself. And we didn’t even have to aks.

Lesson 2: Session Lager comes in really big bottles. Forty ounces for eight dollars. Drink it fast or you will find yourself in warm beer city.

Lesson 3. Black Thought is the quintessential MC; he brings meaning back to the two letters. This man had the crowd going nuts, reaching out over the front of the dance floor and dusting the fingertips of his fans with magical MC power.

Lesson 4: ?uestlove CAN SPIN, even when he is really, really, stoned.

Lesson 5: You cannot bring bottles of wine into Neumos.

Lesson 6: Everybody still really loves that Biz Markie song; just sing it to yourself to get the full effect: “OH BABY YOU, YOU GOT WHAT I NE-ED…” (and now it will be stuck in your head all day).

Lesson 7: The front of the dance floor is where it is at. This holds true at every show but in particular at this one; the sing-along effect was in full force, championed by the ladies with big smiles on their faces and arms waving in the air. Only happy people put their arms above their head; this is a well-documented cross-cultural human trait. Also only happy people sing along to Old School anthems by Eazy-E, the Beastie Boys, and even a classic anthem from E.U. (Google it; this is a family website). You can take the kids out of the 80’s but you can’t take the 80’s out of the kids.

Lesson 8: The source of all of ?uestlove’s power is THE PICK.

Lesson 9: Neumos’ capacity has recently been drastically lowered, thank you Mayor I-Hate-Rock-and-Roll Nichols. Although it was nice to be able to leave the front of the dance floor and find a little space in the back of the room to cool off (impossible at many previous shows), I worry about the implication of this recent development and what it means for the future of not only Neumos but other venues and dance floors (my home) around Seattle.

Lesson 10: CultureMob.com freakin’ rocks, and not just because we got to hang out with ?uestlove and Black Thought. CultureMob is now open in the San Diego, Phoenix, and Boston markets in addition to our existing sites in Portland, Denver, and Seattle. CultureMob.com is the next generation of online social networking. We take it one much better step further than Myspace or Facebook by giving you information that gets your network OUT, a place that is far spicier, louder, more colorful, more fun, and most importantly more real than the internet; it is a place where you can touch and smell and hear and actually engage the people you have been stalking online. Welcome back to reality.

CultureMob.com thanks ?uestlove and Black Thought for the killer mixes and raps, and we thank you, the people out there enjoying life last night.

Did I say there was going to be a test? Here it is: Get out there this weekend, Seattle. Get out there, and get down.

(AND YES, I DID MEAN TO SPELL ‘ASK’ LIKE ‘AKS’ . For more information please refer to the album “Doggystyle” by Snoop Doggy Dogg. Thank you.

Note from Shilo, CultureMob’s Queen of Content:

CultureMob is now in sunny SAN DIEGO and has plans to open in Los Angeles, San Francisco, and Orange County by the end of June! In honor of our foray into sunny Southern California I have a special guest blogger, Thaïs, who just returned from kicking off festival season right at Lightning in a Bottle in Santa Barbara.

Do you like to write about arts and entertainment and want to be a guest blogger for CultureMob? Send me a message: shilo@culturemob.com

GUEST BLOGGER: Thaïs

The expedition started out on Wednesday, May 21 deep into the night. After rushing to get ready and loading up the van and trailer, we picked up our fellow copilots. We were now off to make a 24 hour drive, on our way to beautiful Santa Barbara to catch the breathtaking forest festival, Lightning in a Bottle!

Luckily for my boyfriend and I we were blessed with two angels that liked to drive and ended up doing so most of the way. Ah, what a lovely drive it was! With a bed in the back, and DJ Noisemaker pulling a 24 hour live set in the captain’s chair while we chain-smoked and cuddled, I couldn’t have asked for anything more!

After the long haul we made it to Lightning in a Bottle, where we met up with our wonderful camp GFP, Ghetto Fabulous Projects, Leaders of Random. And what a lovely bunch they are.

For three entire days we had the chance to stay at this divine location. Full of love, magik and sooo much more. Everywhere you turned a bright, enlightened spirit would be there warming your heart and filling your soul with ridiculous amounts of love. If I wouldn’t have known any better, seeing as I have been to quite a few festivals in my past, I would have swore I was in a Dream Land, on a magical adventure with fairies and dragons…oh my!

We had the chance to make it to all three stages, four if you want to count the Renegade Stage. Each one spiraled towards the sky with it’s own individuality. The Bamboo Stage, or Main Stage, was made of thousands of pieces of wood, woven together to make a star-like tetrahedron. What countless hours this must have taken, each piece individually strewn together! Next was the Wookie Stage…we didn’t get to make it to this one too much but it did consist of a large, shell-like DJ booth with a few other posts surrounding the area. And last but DEFINITELY not least was the Tree Stage. This was the stage that just seemed to be bumping at ALL hours of the night! It looked like a pirate ship with different rooms and levels…and what a fun stage to dance on! This was where most of the most rockin’ DJs played, jamming out in all hours of the night. David Starfire, Bassnectar, Glitch Mob, and so many others kicked our asses here. There wasn’t one moment that the dance floor wasn’t PACKED!

When we weren’t dancing our little butts off or conversing with tons of magik folk, there were booths to discover, such as Kelsey’s Creations with fairy-like tutus and Foxy’s Tooth Bling, where you could bling out your teeth with tiny sparkling jewels. And of course there were also live artists, fun air-brushing, and don’t forget the organic yummyness of food everywhere!

All I’ve got to say is thank you, Lightning in a Bottle for a most exciting, freakin’ fabulous, lusciously divine weekend! I’ll be seeing you at Lightning in a Bottle 2009- it only gets better from here!