It's the first Wednesday of August and rain clouds are taunting my decision to attend this months Art Walk. As I am confidently pacing down Adams St. through crowds of familiar faces, I wonder where all these culturally and artistically starved Floridians abide every other day of the month; however, their valiant efforts to avoid a four hour television fix, despite bong rips on the couch, create an ambitiously warm feeling in my gut. Or maybe the few beer I've squandered my wages on are doing the trick. Either way, I quicken my step. D.J. Triclops is spinning the hits, Airport Factory is about to play their intellectual jams at the old library's alley way, and the reopening of The Pit, infamous for hosting good D.I.Y. shows and providing opportunities to drink the night away without a bar tab, is just a few hours away. As I brush shoulders with friends, anticipation boils my blood and waves of curiosity thicken the storm overhead; I'm pleased to see, however, that a little rain isn't preventing anyone from making an appearance. Besides, unlike the rain, this only happens once a month.
Jacksonville's Art Walk exists as if the renaissance era fucked a Hallmark store and their bastard of a conception vomited what could be considered a somewhat eclectic local art show, spanning the streets of our city on the river. Don't get me wrong. There are some interesting displays, with Burro Bags peddling various homemade hand bags and back packs, as well as t-shirts sporting slogans such as "the south will ride with friends;" however, any Art Walk regular with a perceptive eye may recognize the the lack of variation on a monthly basis. I can't complain, however. What else would anyone be doing on a Wednesday night? And at least we still have the old library.
The old library is an unofficial term for the historic building left behind when Jacksonville's main library moved just a few blocks down the street, facing the homeless haven known as Hemming Plaza. Basically, from my understanding, the lease holders of the old library have great plans of creating ,yet, another market of shops, stores, and casual dining. (Refer to the Jacksonville Landing) But without anyone willing to lease, they have been gracious enough to allow art displays, live music, and even the occasional dance party to occur in this otherwise useless building. Over the last year or so, some of the best events of the Art Walk have been organized in the basement of this three story structure; however, as any citizen of Jacksonville knows, nothing good lasts forever in this city. These days, the top layer is blocked off and the basement is being used to hide the corpses of the only really good art shows held at these monthly events. Not all is lost, though. We have been fortunate enough for the allowance of the alley way behind the old library, which may not hold such a romanticized atmosphere, but still provides a space for catered b.b.q., tables manned by artists selling unique trinkets, clothing, and artwork, as well as a spot for D.J. Triclops to scratch and spin. As local indie rock band, Airport Factory, is getting ready to swoon an audience of artists and drunkards alike, I decide to run to the only convenient store in the area to grab a beer.
For some reason, Airport Factory's melodic jams just seem to remind me of a soundtrack to a river city, such as ours. Chris Williams' socially conscious lyrics just add to the whimsical style of his key board playing, while Nick Osgood plucks a six string accenting in just the right way. Drummer, Mark Lynn, seemingly and respectfully one of the most serious drummers around town, whips his high hats into shape in unison with the others, creating a composition worthy of the attention they receive. With their new album, "Fast Casual," on the way, this trio will surely continue to exceed expectations for local music. As they wrap up there set, D.J. Triclops flips a record and announces the re-opening of the pit, featuring a lineup of Atlanta based, Vegan Coke, as well as Jacksonville favorites Buff Clout and National Dairy. The night is young and the booze flows like rain in the gutters.
Upon arrival of The Pit, I am reminded of nights I may not actually remember, but are documented in the form of flyers, photographs, and scars. Hosting bands such as Georgia's own Baroness, The Black Lips, and Black Tusk, as well as well traversed acts, Lightning Bolt and An Albatross, The Pit holds a history of D.I.Y. shows that could make some sort of low key hall of fame, as far as Jacksonville goes. The new lease holders have slightly renovated the inside, transforming what used to look like a storage space for miscellaneous recording equipment, screen projectors, and a plethora of collectables, into a black light illuminated, dungeon of swank. At the door, there is a counter protecting the holy grail of underground shows: the keg. As Vegan Coke assembles their equipment, everyone seems reluctant to let loose just yet; however, not one is hesitant to fill their plastic goblets with beer.
Watching Vegan Coke reminded me of a stoned jam session in a basement with friends. With delay pedals and some light sampling, along with effected guitar riffing and heavy drums, these guys have created a dark, southern rock sound with psychedelic undertones. Although it was their third time performing in one day, they had an energy as if they had been ready to play for hours and were finally able to release an attack on the blank faces of zoned out observers. They ended their set with a noisy progression of squeals and howling feedback, reminiscent of the hurricanes that never seem to actually hit Jacksonville. I am interested where this band will take their sound in the future.
Next was National Dairy. I could write this paragraph posing as an unbiased spectator, but the truth is that I'm in the band and as narcissistic as it may be, I've got to say something about it. Judging by our responses, I feel that we accomplished a "nails on chalkboard" sound, influenced by similar bands, such as Arab on Radar, Daughters, or AIDS Wolf. As I watched the audience's faces during our set, I couldn't tell if they were mesmerized or appalled at the screeching guitar riffs accompanied by double bass, blast beats, and the sonic screams of lead vocalist Chelsea. Either way, our hopes are always to accomplish either of the aforementioned reactions.
Lastly, Buff Clout took the floor with confidence and pride. If you live in Jacksonville and you haven't seen or heard Buff Clout, then maybe you actually live in Orange Park. Either way, I am surprised every time I see them play, that they have some sort of new material. As of lately, the duo present their set in three stages of math rock poetry: the new songs, the first album, and a song that they just finished. They ended their set with a jam I had seen them attempt at a house show previously, but as they had just completed the work, they were a bit rusty; however, this time they pulled it off with stride. If you follow this band from show to show, you may end up feeling as though you are watching the growth of a child, as their performances seem to be their practices, as well.
I'm walking back to my truck, full of band equipment, as I contemplate on the events of the evening. The night is still moist and the parking lot is littered with the remaining inebriated, as they make connections, plan for the after party, or just catch up with old friends. In reflection, the night wasn't so bad. Despite my cynical attitude towards Jacksonville happenings, the Art Walk was a success as far as bringing folks together. I would be lying if I were to claim that there were some sort of lesson to be learned from the night, or some profound epiphany finally realized. But if I were to come away with anything, it would be a few extra dollars from not running a bar tab through the roof. It's not uncommon to see negative attitudes, inspired by boredom, around this fair city of ours and who can be blamed? I guess we're lucky to have what we've got for the intervals of time that we do. All we can hope to accomplish is to find inspiration around us and to influence others to do the same. Maybe next Art Walk, everyone will be inspired to bring raincoats.
Review by John Touchton
Click the photo for the full set. Photos by tom p.
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