Eaux Claires Festival. Photo by Joey Grihalva. Nothing compares to your first: first kiss, first love, first road trip, first concert. It was truly memorable. It was a couple years ago when I was bowling with a friend at Bryant Lake Bowl in Minneapolis, a hip Uptown establishment that serves one of my favorite brunches in the Twin Cities.
Between the kitchen and the lanes there is a small theater that seats less than a hundred people and specializes in strange, offbeat performances. I had just rolled a gutter ball when the audience made its way out of the little theater, Vernon among them.
The indie rock star got a few nods from my fellow bowlers but no exuberant flattering, just another humble guy with an open mind on a Saturday night. I was alone in the office of my videography job in Minneapolis, projecting the image on the wall, running the audio through my powerful work speakers, and dancing like no one was watching, because no one was.
The sun was setting on the woods outside my window. It was a beautiful performance that almost brought me to tears. Vernon later expressed concerns about the festival touring circuit and Bon Iver went on hiatus. My interest peaked when I learned he was co-curating it with Aaron Dessner of The National , one of my favorite bands, who would headline the first night of the two-day festival.
My girlfriend, who is an artist, jokes about making a family tree poster for the member Group of the Altos , which would connect to Vernon in one branch. It would be a Minnesota-Wisconsin lovefest with a few select outsiders in the mix. Vernon even sent personalized letters to each performer asking them to embrace the collaborative spirit and step outside their comfort zone.
