Jackson Hole Underground

(Editor’s note: This dispatch comes from Clint Troxel, eminent computer guru, J-lister and mandolinist who with a group of friends trucked it out to The Gorge for Memorial Day weekend. Sasquatch Fest has become a popular road trip for Jacksonites looking for a spring fix of new music.)

The Sasquatch Festival at The Gorge has provided this music fan a necessary good-music-infusion for a few years running. It never fails to surprise, inspire, and re-invigorate. Check out the lineup.

Highlights included Blue Scholars’ conscious hip-hop, Yeasayer’s awesomely re-created set of self-described “Middle Eastern-psych-snap-gospel” — and, let’s not forget The Flaming Lips! I know jhunderground is a Michael Franti fan, but my vote for Musical Prophet Of The Year goes to Wayne Coyne. The Flaming Lips UFO show might actually have been from out of this world. If you haven’t heard (or seen!) The Flaming Lips since “She don’t use jelly,” do yourself a favor. This show is a spectacle.

In terms of “most memorable” it was hard to beat, but I can’t stop thinking about R.E.M. I’ve never paid much attention to R.E.M. — for some reason they never clicked. Until Sasquatch.

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A blizzard is raging outside, so it seems odd to be writing about searing heat, round-the-clock music and spicy Cajun eats. Then again, it’s never too early to begin planning spring break.

The New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival has released its preliminary music schedule, and whether you’re rolling with the Spread Heads, Parrot Heads, Fish Heads or ‘Fess Head, the lineup is stacked.

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You may have noticed that posts have been, um, sparse on these pages in recent weeks. Well, it’s the holidays, and there are a lot better things you could be doing than trolling the Internet: partying, writing letters, traveling, exchanging gifts, praying.

And if you live in Jackson Hole, Wyo., well, there’s been a lot of great powder skiing.

I managed a quick, pre-Christmas visit to New York to visit my family on Long Island and catch up with old friends in Manhattan. Between coming and going, shopping and packing, celebrating there and celebrating here, I’ve been neglecting this site.

For me, taking a break from blogging is like eddying out in a kayak; sometimes it takes a lot of effort to get back in the stream. The longer I wait, the more the current keeps on rushing by, and I have to paddle hard and marshal up considerable gumption to break the eddy line of inertia. So, consider this a thrust into the current again.

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With another snowstorm creating more travel woes in Denver, I decided to extend my Christmas visit to New York and took the A train up to Harlem last night to pay my respects to Mr. Dynamite, James Brown.

The Godfather of Soul passed away on Christmas Day at 73. Fittingly, he went out in style.

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“Caution: Moving walk is nearing its end. Please watch your step. Thank you.”

The last few days have proven that going back East for Christmas can be a nightmare, and not just of the fruitcakes-and-frankincense variety.

Here’s an insider’s account of the slumber party at Denver International Airport.

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