peevish mama

On Friday night there was a collision – the girl in me who wants to fly around in the dark and hear loud live music, feeling it in every cell in her body, ran up against the mother and wife that I am on the outside and in the present. Mostly, these two pieces of me can co-exist peacefully. Mostly, I find that one actually helps the other. After I get to see something that moves me, that opens my mind and my heart, I think I’m actually a better mother. The next morning, my kids come down to breakfast and I’m usually playing whatever it is I heard the night before, all bright and happy, savoring that shimmer left behind, and they ask questions and they listen to the music and I tell them everything. Perhaps I am rationalizing, but my kids’ take-away might be this: art is one of life’s priorities and live music lifts up everyone in the room, the performers and every last person in the audience. I swear, First Avenue is like OZ to them. When they finally get to go, it’s going to be epic. But, as I’ve said before, this town is so chocked full of good music that Dash and I have to turn a blind eye to many many things we would like to see. And even with that kind of triage, there can still come a night when you look at the ticket, sigh and decide that staying in is the right thing to do.

I fell for Doomtree a couple summers ago when they played at the Lake Harriet Bandshell during the Music and Movies Series. We went with our neighbors on a beautiful August night and while the girls stood in line for free t-shirts that were being silkscreened on the spot, our boys stood on the benches and watched, rapt. How cute are they?It was a joyous rapping free-for-all and our guys were drinking it up. (I bet that’s what spawned their careers as Lil’ Ziggy, G-Dog and TNT.)

Doomtree is a Minneapolis collective of seven musicians who each go out and do their own thing, while coming “home” to collaborate with the each other in all sorts of different combinations and constellations. It’s so cool. They’re so cool – super talented, hard working, smart, honest. Dessa, beautiful, bad-ass Dessa, is the only woman. And I didn’t go to see their Blow-Out on Friday night – my sad little ticket is sitting on my bureau. I’m a little bitter, of course, but I snuggled on the couch with my monkeys and watched TV. And that kind of night, as we know, possesses its own kind of magic. But I’m still bitter – Nanook calls it FOMO (fear of missing out). I’ve got IKIMO (I know I missed out). Watch this for a little idea of how they work. So good.