Last night was the Nome Food Bank benefit at Airport Pizza, with entertainment provided by the local music scene. These folks, the local musicians, their families, the KNOM crew, the circle of friends around them; they make a fundamentally hostile life more than survivable. Nome should not exist, it has no harbor for shipping, it has no rich agriculture to support a sedentary population, it has no great cultural significance. Even the salmon runs are minimal due to all the waterways having been dredged. All it has is gold, and this was enough to build a town on large enough to become somewhat self-supporting, at least as far as purpose went. But unlike other human habitation which tend to be built around something we enjoy, Nome was built on an abstract desire for wealth. Makes for a damn hard winter.

But the people, oh the people. A writer I respect greatly was here visiting and stated that he could pen a novel based on every person he saw in town. I wouldn't quibble. Though demonstrating the classic northern reticence, this place lives and breathes its stories. It has little else. So the stories are told and retold, embellished and doubted, savoured in extremis. Great stories are a social currency to a degree that most Americans haven't experienced since the rise of the cathode ray tube. A joke has run regarding California being like granola, if you eliminate all the nuts and fruits all you have left are the flakes. Nome is a Long Island Iced Tea. The separate ingredients tend to be cheap and caustic, but combined in a tall cold glass you find something tasty, attractive, and incredibly intoxicating. It will also lead you to Karaoke, social diseases, and horrific hangovers if you are not cautious.




So how do you keep yourself off the floor? You dance, baby. Dance, sing, play, DJ, whatever piques your fancy. Since Sarah Hanson came to town and opened her guitar studio a nebulous musical scene has come together into a damn fine way to spend a winter. Theme nights, open mikes, and constant weekend jamming wherever an excuse arises; at -30F you don't need a good reason to gather. With the constant infusion of fresh young blood from the KNOM barracks and new students from Sarah's studio keeping the ferment bubbling, the town rocks. Plus 11 bars for 3300 people makes for a well-lubricated crowd.



Grats to everybody that was there, we raised over $1000 for the food bank out of just a few dozen spectators. Props to Airport Pizza. I might disagree with Matt's politics but nobody can doubt his generosity. Special mention to Lance Johnson for arranging the whole thing and acting as emcee for as garrulous a bunch of reprobates you are likely to find this side of Fresno. Tres fun. The sexy '80's dance party afterward at KNOM was pretty bloody great as well. Never thought I would actually enjoy hearing Dead Or Alive.

You spin me right round baby right round....