Detroit weekend (part two)

Anytime we--and presumably the rest of the world that is able to take trips or vacation--wake up the morning on which we must check out of and leave a hotel, that morning turns into a logistical puzzle. There is showering, toothbrushing, packing away toiletries, packing suitcase(s), finding breakfast, and getting out of the hotel before the checkout deadline. This is further complicated when one also needs to get to an airport or train station. Thankfully, having merely driven our car the two hours or so to Detroit, this was considerably easier than most of our trips.

We decided to make it simple and eat breakfast at Presley's, the restaurant on the lobby level. Despite only one person working the tables when we sat down, it was perfectly fine. Would recommend.

Upon checking out and picking up the car from the valet, I drove up Woodward to the Cass Corridor and Third Man Records.

(Publishing this now but will return lickity split).

(Okay, I'm back--a bit later than expected).

We popped into Third Man as soon as they opened, as we arrived on Canfield at about 10:50 AM, even after blowing our turn off Woodward. It was the first time we had been to Third Man since early March 2020, just days before Covid shut the world down. The clerk in Third Man had cued up The Beatles' 1962-1966 "Red Album" which sounded amazing on the store's sound system. I have to say it was emotional for me to be there and be greeted with such beautiful music.

If any readers out there have never been to Third Man, it is like Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory for music/record nerds. I half expected Jack White to appear in tux, tails, and top hat and sing a song. It is quite a place, intricately designed and detailed in Jack White's trademark style of red, yellow, and black and vaguely old-timey, vaguely steampunk decorative style. Of course, the merchandise and music for sale feels like it was specifically curated for my musical taste. I could have easily dropped three or four figures on stuff, but kept my impulses in check for the most part.

(More later. Consider this a living document for now).

Third Man, continued...

I bought three records: The Gories' Shaw Tapes (live show from 1988), Mudhoney Live at Third Man, and a compilation of tracks recorded by John (Negative Approach/Laughing Hyenas) Brannon' first band Static. The only one I've listened to so far is the Gories. It's a record that has been around for a while, so it's nothing new.

After we had poked around Third Man and some other cute boutiques on Canfield, we headed out of Detroit and decided to stop in Ann Arbor. I honestly could not remember the last time I'd been in A2. I know it was pre-pandemic, so I think it was 2019 for the Michigan Folk Festival at Hill Auditorium. (It's funny how the timeline of life is now divided into pre and post pandemic).

Despite there being some bicycle riders' event that day, Ann Arbor seemed less busy than I expected, which means we didn't have to drive all the way to the top of the parking garage to find a spot. Since we were parked across the street from our main destination, Literati Books, it was easy getting that out of the way. I bought two books there, Joan Didion's The White Album (which I have wanted to read for at least a year or so) and Percival Everett's Erasure (basis of the movie American Fiction). I've since begun reading the Didion and it's excellent. Her towering intellect is certainly challenging, but her "boots on the ground" reportage (is that a word?) of '60s/'70s California is fascinating. She has absolutely "no fucks to give" and is completely unsentimental in her observations. It's made me want to read Slouching Towards Bethlehem soon.