The Heligoats - Bunk Bar, Portland OR - November 4, 2017



[Roseburg, OR? Chicago?] I was in a burn-it-all-down-mood (dad dying, men failing) and came here expecting hard music… dum dum dum singer/songwriter. Burn.It.All.Down.NOW. But there was a sweet-solemn guy sitting against the wall by the stage next to me and he soothed me – reminded me of my first love back in Austin. It ended up being a night of unrecognized greatness. SweetRambler, my new friend, is well-positioned in the Portland music scene – he described his band as rockabilly piano & prog rock – this sounded entirely suspicious to me but I confirmed it all online. He’s a closet jam-bander for sure but I won’t hold it against him. And the singer/songwriter grew on me … I just couldn’t make out what he was saying – SweetRambler convinced me it was the bad sound but I can’t never hear the words the singers are singing. But I could tell he was being witty and weird. And it came to me that he was a dead ringer for The Mountain Goats, a band I could take or leave recorded – and a band that floors me live. SweetRambler got all excited when I told him that because I hadn’t realized their (his, tonight) name riffs on the goat theme. There was also some Paul Simon to him. He was an awkward star – mumbled “We’re just getting started here!” twice. He said he’d come in from Roseburg (where the mass shooting @ a college happened a few years ago) but I’m not sure where’s he from. His pants were unexpectedly sagged, belying his nerdy stage persona. Otherwise, I enjoyed surveying the crowd. Two foolish foolish young men with ridiculous moustaches. One of them with a beautiful beautiful little girl in mom jeans, long wavy hair, and a large-brimmed felt hat – she spent a lot of the show thumbing through facebook or something on her phone. The older guy in a Bahamas shirt (half frat boy, half Weekend-At-Bernies) nodding his head like the show was a ringer. Oh and the miniature man in a color-splashed shirt & long blonde hair rubbing up on all the women. Of note, people in Portland don’t respect their live music like Austinites, chatting and such when they should respect and such. And it turns out, or Google tells me, Chris Otepka is semi-famous, at least according to NPR.

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