Cowboy in a Mohawk Bar

I’m flayed out on a chartreuse vinyl couch in the lavish “green room” @ Mohawk being sized up by what appears to be a stuffed mounted grizzly bear bust on the wall above me. I don’t want to imply that there’s any question of his/her stuffedness, but I just want to provide full disclosure that I’m not a professionally trained zoologist, so please forgive if you show up and its a wombat. Woodsy seems the be a prevailing theme at this bar.

Weather it be the reclaimed pine which lines the walls or the antique Indian portraits which create the comfortable hunting lodge feel I stand undecided. “This is the last song of the night ya bloody Yanks”, belts the hack over the mic. Shit! After all I am here to shoot the band and not just imbibe their gratis’ libations. I guess now is a good a time as ever to get off my ass and do some work.

The vantage point from atop this massive 3rd floor balcony theoretically gives one quite a killer view of the stage and crowd below, if it weren’t for the bazillion swaying hipsters in front of me. I decide to try and make my way through the swollen crowd to the immediate right of the stage. Here I hunt for a spot on another large balcony surrounded by palm trees and what appears to be a waterfall. I try and wrangle my way to the front to get a vantage point which looks directly over the covered stage. No dice once again, blocked out by badge laden tourists. The “pit” for me it is then.

I forge ahead down the stairs stopping for a lovely beverage at one of the numerous satellite bars and a quick snapshot of a couple Betty’s groping another wombat. Full steam ahead to the front of the stage I must go before the end of the set to capture at least a half-ass image to silence my editors. Yea silence befalls.

A load out shot could be artsy kick ass, no?….