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| Stevie Nicks |
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| Louisiana sailors |
Unfortunately, record crowds thronged to the Festival to enjoy the unprecedented weather. My first inkling came when I saw that people had already taken my super secret awesome parking spot. That's never happened. Then, the thick crowds made it difficult to walk at a normal pace into the Fair Grounds.
Combined with the fact I spent most of the morning trying to clean my camera, I missed the morning prayer again. That's usually a bad omen and today it heralded a fairly disappointing day.
The organizers, and Mother Nature, mostly fixed the mud problem, except for most of the Fais Do Do stage, on which they poured sand, hay, and even pine needles. Some big muddy swaths still remained, but the walkways and most stage areas were mud free. I also fixed, or at least resolved, my own mud problem, having spent the better part of the morning with q-tips and damp rags knocking off the mud. It seemed to take pictures just fine. I'll take it in for a steam cleaning, or whatever you do, once I get home.
I initially went to the Gospel Tent and enjoyed a few songs from the Wimberly Family Gospel Singers. No local school choir, these five guys brought the energy and the rock to their gospel music. The leader sounded a little like Harold Melvin (of the Blue Notes). And even more impressively, they wore some really stylin' gold shirts. Like something to wear to Mormon Temple. Robust.
From there I went to the Revivalists at the Gentilly Stage. Normally not my cup of tea, but the Times Picayune recommended them so I wanted to check it out. This "techno funk" band struck me as a cross between the Red Hot Chili Peppers and local band Bonerama. The Screetch from Saved by the Bell-looking lead singer (how exactly did that happen), has a penchant for jumping into the crowd, must to the consternation of the rent-a-cops.
In case you were wondering, cigars are still a thing, obviously. All weekend I've seen fat guys (its never skinny guys) smoking away. Its not 1995 still is it? Maybe in New Orleans. Another thing I've noticed? Apparently its a thing for young couples to just throw down and majorly suck face. Like making out standing up. Not a peck on the lips. Not a hug. But chewing your partner's face off. I saw this one guy who I thought literally was going to swallow his date whole? When did this all start? I missed it. But I guess you should get used to seeing it, or averting your eyes.
Anyway, the Red Stick Ramblers were next up. This Cajun band, as I understand, occasionally guests on the HBO series Treme. The huge early crowd at the normally more sedate Fais Do Do stage attested to fame beyond the Cajun prairie. More remarkably, people finally gave in and started dancing in the large dance space to stage left. Which just goes to show the universal rule. whenever Cajuns meet, there will be dancing. And something made in a pot.
After the Ramblers, I ate and milled around the Louisiana native craft area for a bit during the schedule lull. This area contains local craft demonstrations, including blacksmithing, woodworking, furniture making, and other Cajun and creole arts. I also saw a Senegalese percussion circle in the Congo Square area.
I tried to enjoy a bit of the Dukes of Dixieland at the Economy Hall tent, but the crowd was so incredibly large it took away the enjoyment.
So instead I returned to the Fais Do Do stage to enjoy Breaux Bridge's Yvette Landry. I first learned about her as the bass player of Bonsoir Catin, an all woman traditional Cajun band. Today she fronted her own band and played guitar, as part of her expanding solo career. Its not exactly country or zyedco. I'd call it "contemporary Cajun." Ballads about men who did horrible things (one song suggests burning a man's house down as an appropriate remedy for lying...that's a bit extreme, right?), and reserved waltzes and two steps.
Here begins the complaining.
I'd planned to hear Terence Blanchard at the Jazz Tent and Eric Lindell in the Blues Tent. But the overflow crowds in both areas made that impossible. Every seat was taken, every standing area spot was taken, even the concrete pavilion area that lacked any view inside was totally filled with people sitting in their portable seats. I'm not sure what point that accomplishes. I could go to the park for free and listen to my ipod. This happens fairly often now, that Jazz Fest sells tickets to a slate of shows without adequate opportunity for everyone to enjoy every show they want. Or in my case, charges a premium for tickets that provide the only realistic opportunity to enjoy the act.
In short, Jazz Fest has outgrown itself. One thing I noticed about last year's ACL Festival was it didn't have this kind of crowding. Except for the night time headliner concerts, such as the Red Hot Chili Peppers. That's because ACL limits its ticket sales, while Jazz Fest just keeps on selling tickets. As the Festival's popularity grows, they try cramming more people into the same space. Which means that its harder to enjoy shows. As a practical matter, seeing a popular act at the Blues Tent requires one to stake out a spot all day. This requires an entire team who can keep a block of seats all day while you go to the restroom or eat. For those like me, who don't want to bring a staff to the Jazz Festival, it becomes more and more frustrating. Then when you throw in belligerent security and other staff, which I won't go into, it really takes the fun out of the experience.
So, harnessing my positive life attitude and can do spirit....
I'll try again. So, making lemonade out of lemons, or something like that, I milled around some more, and went to the Lagniappe Stage to enjoy a fife and drum band. Yes, that's right, I came all the way from Austin to hear a fife and drum band. Sharde Thomas and Rising Star. Three drums and a fife player. You know, like Yankee Doodle went to town? Yeah, that. I'll give them this, its not the same old thing. To make it just a little weirder, they played several well known rock songs. Like the Troggs' "Wild Thing," or Cream's (and many others') "Sittin' On Top of the World" and so forth. Well, at least I got to sit down in the shade.
I went on to the Gentilly Stage to listen to local favorites, Galactic. This is a definitely up and coming high energy, brassy, rock/funk band. Imagine the funk, non-lame version of Chicago. They get really dirty. Musically and lyrically. I really enjoyed seeing them at the Festival a couple of years ago, so someone (you know who you are) gave me their last CD. I loved the show, but the CD sounded more like someone having a Tourette's attack than music. But this show returned to form and was much better than the CD. The guy from Living Color, which was also in town, joined them to sing most of the songs. I enjoyed the funked up version of "I Am the Walrus."
Despite really enjoying Galactic, I didn't want to miss any of Fleetwood Mac, who had on their own initiative moved up their appearance time by half an hour so as to expand their set. First surprise? Christine McVie isn't touring with them. Turns out she hasn't appeared with Fleetwood Mac in maybe 15 years. Who's gonna sing "Over My Head"? No one. Only her "Don't Stop," that wretched Bill Clinton theme song, made the set list. Which is a shame because she wrote the Fleetwood Mac songs I most enjoyed: "Over My Head," "You Make Loving Fun," "Go Your Own Way," "Songbird," and "Say You Love Me." What else does she having going on that's SOOOO important she can't go be a rock star? Gardening? Knitting? Child, please!
So as the show began, some meathead security guy passed through the crowd and told people to put down any camera that wasn't a phone camera. Apparently, Fleetwood Mac is a cutting edge, hot band who wants to control all their images. Cause we're all still doing anything we can to buy Stevie Nicks posters. Heh...still! Anyway, I complied. For a while.
The band was mostly the actual members. Unlike a lot of classic rock groups playing the casino or cruise ship circuit who consist of about half the original players and haul around about 10 other hired gun musicians, Fleetwood Mac only brought along a keyboard player, a second guitarist, and a couple of backup singers. Otherwise, they played the music. Using actual real musical instruments, not taped, and not on some computer. Kind of a foreign concept these days I know. This revealed that they haven't just been sitting around watching Oprah all these years. Lindsay Buckingham turns out to be a pretty damn good guitarist. Meanwhile, Mick Fleetwood really rocked his huge drum kit. They played all the non-Christine McVie hits you remember, in a much grittier, rocking way. This set lacked all the smooth classic FM production and polish. They stripped these songs down to their essentials, and both Buckingham and Fleetwood soloed extensively.
The members have weathered time fairly well. Mick Fleetwood looks like Wavy Gravy or Ian Anderson, albeit with a bandanna. And with extreme crazy eyes. He's playing a huge gold plated (probably just colored gold) drum kid with about 10 symbols and a huge gong. Though she's lost weight recently, Stevie Nicks still kind of evokes latter day Sally Struthers. Lindsay Buckingham, douche that he is, looks like Art Garfunkel and John McEnroe's idiot bastard child on steroids. Lindsay, my man, black leather and skin tight t-shirts undoubtedly look fierce on Sunset, but at Jazz Fest, they make you look like an enormous tool. John McVie was Entwistle-esque in his personality-less performance. Taking the ACT is more exciting.
Stevie Nicks must have changed outfits about three times. Once she made a huge production, during "Gold Dust Woman," of putting on some sort of gold colored web looking wrap. She should have just stood next to Fleetwood's drum kit. Top hats, different shawls (that's probably not the right word). All with the base outfit that made her look like some sort of Wiccan spider. Yall know the get up I'm describing, right? Its the one she's been wearing for about the last 35 years or so. Geez, lady. Even baseball teams change their uniforms every few years or so. Except the Yankees. Who suck. All I could think of was the South Park episode where everyone mistakes a goat for Stevie Nicks. Still, one can't deny her influence. Florence (and the Machine) is doing a Stevie Nicks thing all these years later.
During the last couple of songs, I pulled out my camera for some surreptitious shots. And within a few minutes, the security guy got in my face and started yelling at me and told me he would throw me out of the festival. This during the last song of the last act of the day. Inspired by Steve Martin, I just said "I forgot, sorry" and looked right at him. Pretty bold of me, lying to a musclehead wearing a highlighter colored t-shirt. I could be on Cops, right? He just walked on. That's my version of being a bad ass. Good lord. On the way out of the Fair Grounds, I saw three New Orleans police officers manhandling some huge barefooted Samoan looking dude out of the Festival. He must have had a camera too.
TOMORROW: Hall and Oates. Tomorrow's post will be delayed. I'm packing tonight.
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