MINT MILE/TIM MIDYETT

Tim Midyett (L) and Andy Cohen (R) of Bottomless Pit, and Silkworm

Tim Midyett's (formerly Midgett) music first came onto my sonar in any kind of real way in 1994 when Silkworm's In The West LP was released by the C/Z record label. C/Z had some bandwidth, and the 90s were definitely a decade when labels and engineers mattered. I had had the Treepeople's C/Z-released Time Whore/Something Viscious For Tomorrow cassette stuck in my Civic's tape deck for about sixteen mostly high school months and had positive associations with the label. I also read the music-focused (pre-Stranger) Rocket, which I think came out weekly, and kept dorkily close tabs on who was putting out what with what label for about three or four years. Strangely I remember hoping Silkworm would sound something like Treepeople did, consciously knowing that was a ridiculous thing to hope for. Of course, other than being an underground band from the northwest with guitars, drums, bass and vocals, there weren't any similarities. In The West was recorded by Steve Albini and I was stoked about how Steve made recordings sound, and so I bought the CD. My favorite track was about Missoula, and it was (and continues to be) a great song. Also, it rhymes "half racks" and "railroad tracks," and it's one of Tim's songs.

Silkworm probably occupy the space of The Most Famous Band To Come From Missoula, Montana. Which, you know... is  pretty sparse competition. They got called things like "thinking man's grunge" by hacky journalists unclear on how to categorize them. They started here, kind of grew out of the high school art/punk group Ein Heit, and then quickly moved to Seattle and eastward to Chicago and left a ten-LP catalog recorded over eighteen years, and released by labels like Touch and Go and Matador. About a year ago, a good documentary called Couldn't You Wait came out and it tells the simultaneously fascinating, sad and hopeful story of the band. It's totally worth a watch.

So that's a long way around to say that we're excited to announce Mint Mile, the solo/acoustic project by Tim Midyett. Following Silkworm, Midyett's kept busy with his other band Bottomless Pit, barbecue rubs, his family and day job. Mint Mile Plays Saturday, August 16th at the Badlander.

HOT IN HERRE WITH AL SCORCH

lol'ing it up

Al effin' Scorch is playing Total Fest this year, y'all. In case you haven't been introduced to this ebullient* Chicago fella, this songwriter plays classic, rootsy type songs with a wry twist. With a full band, he suits late-night whiskey-drinking good-times; by his lonesome, his solo tunes tend to be appropriate for afternoon easing of one's hangover.

*Ebullient is a cool word, you should look it up and use it sometime. (I had to.)

Anyway, Al Scorch is no stranger to Missoula and we're pleased to have him on the roster at TF this year.


-KW.

THE ARRIVALS - JUST IN TIME!

Calling them unapologetic, heartwrenchingly sincere, and goddamn catchy still somehow seems to fall woefully short when trying to describe the Arrivals. Having been around for well over a decade now, these Chicago punks, and especially the more recent record on Todd Congelliere's Recess Records, wear their Clash and Pegboy influences flawlessly by cranking out soulful and intelligent rock'n'roll songs without all the bullshit patriotism and bogus I'm-Americana-Cause-I-Have-A-Mustache garbage that destroys (for me) most modern bands of this sound. Sort of the way Avail made you feel inspired and proud of your hometown, yet didn't try to dispel the idea that employment and social justice is a sickening joke. But don't get me wrong, the Arrivals aren't rehashing working-class rock - they're ripping it a new one that makes London Calling sound fucking boring (yeah, I said it).

Touring all over the damn place this summer, as well as sharing members with the unkillable Dillinger Four, the Arrivals embody the inspirational and emotional power of music. A desperate rallying cry to stay afloat in a sea of "progressive" shit. We here at Total Fest, Inc., LLC, DOA could not possibly be more excited to raise our fists and go completely hoarse when the Arrivals take the stage and send your wimpy, banjo-cuddling butts back to the bar to earn that goofy whiskey voice you've been trying to pair with your ironic hat collection. This is how it's REALLY done, kiddos - take note!