Propeller Skies

Yesterday afternoon, I received a phone call from my friend Chris Jackson. It turns out that he got a last minute spot opening for Elevado and Blair Lot at Eddie’s Attic. Since I hate Eddie’s Attic (see the following diatribe for further details) and I was not overly fond of Elevado and Blair Lot when they played with Big Vessel at Jake’s Toadhouse, I was less than enthusiastic. However, Chris is the only singer-songwriter that I like.

A few hours later, recurring Propeller Skies character Stacia and I were on our way to Decatur. After arriving at Eddie’s Attic, we ate on the patio and waited for the doors to open. Since Eddie’s Attic could not be bothered to open them on time. Recurring Propeller Skies characters Katt and Chris Jackson joined us on the patio and chilled.

Chris’ show went well. He played several songs I have heard before, as well as a few that I had not. In contrast to the usual acts at Eddie’s Attic, Chris’ songs are well written and cover a wide variety of topics. Although I prefer seeing Chris play with the rest of Big Vessel, he is extremely talented and I recommend catching a show if you have the means. I highly recommend seeing Big Vessel. Upcoming shows will be posted on the Lost Penguin Society site as soon as I find out about them.

I hate Decatur. Everything about it irritates the hell out of me. First, it is impossible to get to since there is no direct freeway access. Second, there is extremely limited free parking. Third, the whole place is overrun with annoying tree-hugging hippies and yuppies. The only redeeming feature is the annual beer festival.

I also hate Eddie’s Attic. They cater to an annoying tree-hugging hippie clientele that enjoys hearing eighteen year old singer-songwriters strum acoustic guitars and whine about some woman that did them wrong. She most likely dumped them because she was sick of bad acoustic guitar playing, whiny singing, and pseudo-intellectualism. Not my kind of music. I like feedback, squalling guitars, distortion, and anger.

What irritates me even more about Eddie’s Attic is all the goddamn rules. It seems like John Ashcroft runs the place. First, there is no smoking. Second, there is no talking. The list goes on. The clientele, bad music, and arbitrary rules all conspire to make Eddie’s Attic a rotten place to hang out. A church service would be more pleasant.

In conclusion, East Atlanta is a far superior place to catch a show.