Prog Day

So I'm sitting in a field in Carrboro with a book in my lap, a can of birch beer open next to me, and a prog band I've never heard of whanging away furiously onstage. The sun is up, the sky is pure blue with just the first trailing wisps of cirrus way up high, and spread out between me and the stage are tents, chairs, umbrellas, and all manner of laid-back observational stations. Behind me is the merch tent, which is full of well-mannered people feverishly thumbing through boxes of CDs by ban...