San Franciscans love to repeat this quote, probably because nothing truer can be said about San Francisco in a month like July. The city was a cold, misty beast during our visit, and we were not anticipating it.
Despite the constant chill, San Franciscans were anything but cold. Unlike on the streets of Chicago, people acknowledged others’ presence, saying a friendly “hello” or challenging strangers on the other side of the street to an honest game of rock-paper-scissors (we really witnessed this, I swear). The rolling hills and stacked homes give the impression that the city is reaching over-crowdedness, but everyone seemed to have a “more-the-merrier”-type attitude.
We stayed with our friend Mac, who proved to be a very informative tour guide even though he'd lived in the area for only 8 months. He walked us through Haight Street and gave us a rundown of the musical significance the area had back in the 70’s. Here are a few things we spotted on our walk:
festive buildings
four-eyed street sign thing in front of voluptuous lady-legs
poet for hire
Pilsen-esque murals
bowling alley-turned-independent music store (and a huge one at that)
Carl's retirement plan: a lawn bowling field
crotch-grabbing mural characters (look closely for this one in the top mural)
After exploring Haight Street for a bit, it was time to head to Viracocha for a sound check.
This tour hasn't been glamorous by any means, so we didn't have high expectations for the under-the-radar music/comedy/literature readings venue. When we got there, however, we were stunned into silence (one could say we were... petrified? Harry Potter? no?). The venue was in the basement of a very cute storefront that sells trinkets, art, music, clothing, and has a subscription-only library in the back. The employees were smiley-hipster types with an interest in seemingly anything intellectual. It was quirky and esoteric, but fun.
Like I said, the stage was downstairs, in a speakeasy meets barn-styled room. Short tables with chairs facing the stage were packed tightly together, lit by Pier 1 LED candles in cheetah-print glass candle holders. The walls were paneled with old wood, washboards, warm lights, and antique shutters strategically placed by a well-trained interior designer. We knew right from the beginning that this was one of the best-kept secrets of San Francisco.
The band we played with that evening was called All My Pretty Ones. Their normal set-up is a 7-piece band, but that evening they played 4-piece quartet style with cello, stand-up bass, oboe, and piano/guitar. It was their first time playing with only 4 members, but if they never mentioned it, no one would have ever known.
They were dynamic, played fantastic melodies bolstered by great harmonies, were all masters of their instruments, and had a blast on stage. Carl recorded my favorite song of the evening (see below), which was about someone with agoraphobia. Their song subjects were relevant, sometimes playful, and other times sad, but consistently interesting (their rendition of Kate Bush's "Wuthering Heights" as an encore was a great way to close out the night). They were by far the best band we've played with (and probably will play with) on this tour.
The next day, Mack had plans to see Harry Potter with a friend in the early afternoon. Since Carl and I were left to our own devices, we decided to take a walk before packing up and heading out. There was a park at the end of Mack's block up near Haight Street where he insisted we could get the best view of San Francisco, so we sauntered in that general direction.
While hiking up the giant hill that was Mack's favorite seedy park, we witnessed a few strange things. Most importantly, we did not get the best view of San Francisco, because the fog engulfed the entire city. What luck. Of lesser importance but still notable, we saw a very naked man stretched out like the Vesuvian man while we were hiking up the hill. He seemed to be going for a full body tan, but the problem was that he was emanating a stench to match that of the cows we drove past near Crater Lake. We also stumbled upon a crime scene where someone was murdered a few days before we arrived. Mack insisted that the park was entirely safe during the day, but after our explorations, we decided to not spend too much time in there.
We promptly climbed down the hill after reaching the top, packed our car, and drove north to see the Golden Gate Bridge.To get close to the bridge, we traveled through a park, where we started seeing "view points." We stopped at one, not knowing what to expect, and ended up staring right at Alcatraz. While viewing the prison isle, a futuristic-looking vehicle sped past with a very audible robo-tour guide spouting off facts about the prison. I felt the same type of shock, confusion, and amusement that I did when I first saw a Segway tour in Chicago.
Staying true to the theme of the day, we couldn't see a thing when we arrived at the Golden Gate Bridge. The fog completely consumed the 1.7 mile-long bridge. We did fit in some great people watching though.
We left when the doughnuts were taken away from the birds - some guy ruined our fun. We hit some terrible traffic on our way out, but managed to catch a few fun things on camera:
Driving Music:
Little Scream - The Golden Record
Fionn Regan - The Shadow of an Empire
The Dead Weather - Horehound
Elbow - Leaders of the Free World
Menomena - Mines
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