The Blogg

I intended to see Marcia Ball on Friday night, but arrived later than most days and could not find parking anywhere nearby. Instead, I went home and watched the last 8 innings of an epic 15 inning Yankees – Red Sox game with my hosts. One grew up in Massachusetts and the other northern New Jersey and both are serious baseball fans, so that was fun.

Saturday I saw blues trio Mike Dugan & The Blues Mission, who were quite good but not unusual in a way worth writing about. Grayson Capps & The Stumpknockers, by contrast, were quite unique. Their music is quite low-key for a four-piece electric blues band, but it was not exactly blues either. Rather, it was more like gritty electric singer-songwriter fare. Capps’s lyrics seemed rather contrived, but it was an entertaining show.

I had elected not to see Jonny Lang and George Thorogood because if John Lee Hooker, Jr. was anything like his father, then that free show would be just as good and in a much more pleasant venue. I was surprised to find that the son has not taken up the guitar but only sings. He was backed by the usual rhythm section and a guy who played mostly horn stabs on a synthesizer in a very funky style of blues-rock. It was not quite what I was expecting, but very good. Unfortunately it was getting cool and had been raining lightly but steadily for some time, so I decided to leave during the set break.

After the debacles that were Boston and Earth, Wind, & Fire last year, I decided that I would never again sit in the lawn section at Riverplace. Yet, by the time I got around to purchasing a pair of tickets to see Crosby, Stills, & Nash the only place a connected pair could be found was in the lawn seating or directly in front of it. The gates were slated to open at 6:00 for the 8:00 show, so we were in line to ensure good placement within the lawn section by 5:15. About 5:45 the heavens opened up and we crowded under the Hill To Hill Bridge to stay as dry as possible. The opening of the gates was pushed off until after the thunderstorm had passed, which happened at around 7:00. The forecast still looked grim for the rest of the night, but there was no turning back.

Fortunately the rain held off and the show started about 8:10 with Stills and Nash playing guitars and Crosby standing awkwardly while the trio sang. By the fifth song Crosby had picked up a guitar as well, and more band members joined as the night progressed, including Todd Caldwell on organ, James Raymond (and Nash for a few songs) on keyboards, Joe Vitale on drums, and a bassist whose name I could not catch. None of the members have quite the voices that they did 40 years ago, but there is something just as beautiful in their ragged, weary voices today and the songs are just as haunting as ever. Each seemed to be sober and enjoying themselves, something that I understand was quite uncommon through the previous two decades. They sounded, quite simply, excellent. Crosby mentioned several times his appreciation for the employees of Martin guitar (headquartered in nearby Nazareth) in the audience.

The setlist contained most of the group’s hits (“Helplessly Hoping”, “Wasted On The Way”, “Guinnevere”, “Marrakesh Express”, “Southern Cross”, “Long Time Gone”, “Deja Vu”, “Our House”, “Almost Cut My Hair”, “Wooden Ships”, “Love The One You’re With”, and “Teach Your Children”) as well as a pair of Buffalo Springfield songs (“Rock And Roll Woman”, “Bluebird”), a Rolling Stones cover (“Ruby Tuesday”), and one each from James Taylor (“You Can Close Your Eyes”) and Bob Dylan (“Girl From The North Country”). Nearly all of the non-cover material came from the group’s first two albums, with two songs from Daylight Again and none from CSN, American Dream, Live It Up, After The Storm, or Looking Forward. They certainly could have expanded the setlist, playing only an hour and 20 minutes with a 10 minute encore. Indeed, when the road crew began dismantling the set 5 minutes after the end of the encore with the crowd continuing to applaud the general mood was of disbelief. I heard others mostly complaining about the lack of “Suite: Judy Blue Eyes”, while I would have preferred “Dark Star” and “Cathedral” myself. My correspondence with other fans reveals that the band has been playing a somewhat longer show elsewhere, so I do not know why this was cut short. Perhaps the decision was made while the weather still looked threatening.

All of my fears regarding the venue proved true. The sound from the stage was quite quiet where we were sitting, at approximately the same volume level as normal conversation. You would think this would be fine but, as before, there were a group of people directly behind us who kept up a conversation through the entire first half of the concert. Half of their discussions, ironically, revolved around the low sound level, which was only a serious problem because of them. I am a very sedate person by nature, but we nearly had a confrontation. SteelStax cannot be ready fast enough.

Overall, the festival was another great success. I do wish they would return to the transportation system they used in years past. Purchasing a pin in exchange for unlimited trolley rides to, from, and around the various venues was a fantastically convenient system. I tried taking the LANTA Loop into town once and found it to be much more of a hassle; so much so that I did not bother with it again. I continue to think that the festival could do a much better job of attracting young people by increasing their coverage of hip-hop, metal, punk and other genres that it seems to relegate to the ticketed shows or ignore entirely, but I understand that there are people pushing just as hard to return to an exclusively polka-based lineup.

I arrived a bit too late to bother with George Hrab & The Geologic Orchestra as I had intended, so I instead caught the second half of the Sarah Ayers Band’s set. Like last year, I enjoyed Sarah’s singing. She now has two guitarists to go with the bass / drums rhythm section. The first plays like the guitarist in a regionally successful electric blues band should – and clearly knows that he is good and enjoys himself. The second lazily strummed open-string chords and looked like he had never been more bored in his entire life. At the end of the set they were joined by saxophonist Joe Vitale (not that one, as far as I know) and a keyboard player, both of whom were fairly nondescript.

I stayed at Americaplatz for the the Craig Thatcher Band, whom I had only gotten to see partially last year. As usual, the band itself (guitar/vocals, keyboards/vocals, bass/vocals, drums) was joined by a rotating cast of guest musicians for their 20th year playing Musikfest, including Sarah Ayers as a background vocalist, Eric Steckel and another young man on guitars, a violinist, and some auxiliary percussion. The band itself was as tight as you would expect for a group that has been playing together for two decades, and the guests did not hurt much. I’ve found the band to be top-notch at faithfully reproducing other people’s songs, but their own compositions are not quite as interesting. In addition to the usual Clapton covers, they also played the music of Dylan, Hendrix, Stevie Wonder, Fleetwood Mac, and a diverse group of other bands. Thatcher’s showmanship can be a bit over the top — just because you are playing a Hendrix tune does not mean you need to use your teeth — but the crowd eats it up. By the way, if you have seen My Name Is Earl, drummer Don Plowman looks an awful lot like character Randall Hickey.

Saturday I made it to Liederplatz in time to hear the Dan May Band, who were billed as roots music, but did not sound particularly rootsy to me. Mostly it was just slightly countrified original rock. Dan May (vocals) was joined by a background vocalist, keyboardist, bassist, drummer, and two guitarists who were constantly switching between electric and acoustic models. For the last two songs one of them instead played lap steel and then mandolin, which made the songs much more interesting. If he had done so throughout the concert, perhaps it would have been more than just a decent way to spend an early evening.

I stayed at Liederplatz for the next band, Webb Wilder & The Beatnecks. You can never tell how southern rock (as they were advertised) is going to sound; Skynyrd and 38 Special are at least as different as they are alike. In this case it meant high-octane rock and roll based on power chords and that root/fifth, root/sixth, root/fifth, root/sixth riff that underlies a particular style of blues guitar, with mediocre lead lines and quirky vocals. Webb reminds me of Rivers Cuomo, if Rivers had been born 10 years earlier and 1000 miles further south. They were fun to listen to live, but I am not sure I would enjoy their recorded output so much.

I then headed over to Volksplatz, where I saw funk band Trombone Shorty & Orleans Avenue. “Trombone” Shorty also plays trumpet and sings, all quite well. He was backed by a terrific band of tenor and baritone saxophones, guitar, bass, drums, and percussion. They played in a more raw, energetic style than perennial Musikfesters Mingo Fishtrap, and this was most definitely a good thing. The set was mostly instrumental-heavy originals, but they also played a few unexpected and brilliantly re-arranged covers of Green Day and AC/DC in addition to those you might expect. Their arrangement of “Brain Stew” was the second time in as many days that someone’s interpretation of a song made me realize that it is basically “25 Or 6 To 4″. When a trumpeter from New Orleans says he wants to take it “really, really, *really* old-school” I am expecting Joe “King” Oliver rather than Marvin Gaye, but they did play a souped-up “When The Saints Go Marching In” toward the end of the set. For the encore the band members all swapped instruments, and sounded almost as good. I’ve been attending most of Musikfest for four or five years now and, while it is difficult to compare across years or genres, I think I would call this the best band I have seen.

It was attending Musikfest last year, hearing the great music by bands of this sort, and seeing people of all genders, races, and ages singing along and dancing together in a sea of humanity separated for a few hours from the troubles of the world that inspired me to push the ill-fated band that I started soon after in that direction. I love rock & roll, but it does not seem to have the same universal appeal. My musical mentor Norman David used to say that if we could just broadcast Ella Fitzgerald around the world every soldier would lay down his arms. I’m not sure about that, but the power of the groove should not be discounted. (And I am aware that the plentiful flow from the beer tents does not hurt either.)

On Sunday my parents and sister came to see the festival with me. We first caught the second half of Eric Steckel & Friends’ set. His “friends” this year were the regular members of the Craig Thatcher band other than Thatcher himself. He played a good set, but I have enjoyed him much more with a second guitarist. They then decided they would like to see Los Straightjackets based on my analysis that surf music would be like the Beach Boys. Although this was true to an extent, Los Straightjackets plays entirely instrumental music while they were expecting Wilson-esque rich vocal harmonies.

We wandered to Festplatz, where Jimmy Sturr & His Orchestra were upholding the festival’s polka-based history for a few songs. It is not a genre for which I have much love, but I can agree that they executed it well. We stayed for about an hour of oldies band the Main Street Cruisers, who my parents certainly enjoyed. Finally, we returned to Americaplatz to listen to rockabilly lady Rosie Flores for a while. I found her and her simple rhythm section quite entertaining, but she clearly bored my sister and her friend.

This past Sunday I attended the 20th annual Billtown Blues Festival, held at the Lycoming County fairgrounds in Hughesville, PA. I paid $18 in advance for my ticket ($23 at the door). I am terrible at estimating these sorts of things, but I would say somewhere between 500 and 1000 people were in attendance. spread out in lawn chairs on a field in front of a medium-sized stage. There was a canopy in the back for people who wanted some shade. I started out there, but found that the music was only slightly louder than the conversations of people around me. Moving towards the front I found this to be less true, but they still could have used a boost in volume. Out in the sun, I got a predictable sunburn on my ears and forearms.

I did not make it in time to see Irving Street Blues, and only caught part of Sean Carney. The first act that I really saw was harpist / vocalist Gary Allegretto and mandolin player / vocalist Rich DelGrosso backed by a power trio. They were good, but I was a bit disappointed that the mandolin was not more exotic. It sounded so much like a guitar that I often could not tell which parts he was playing without watching either him or the guitarist.

Next up was gospel band The Campbell Brothers, a fairly large group driven by two steel guitarists. The only other time I’ve heard similar music is when The Blind Boys of Alabama and Ben Harper worked together. They were probably my favorite part of the festival because of their uniqueness. I love electric blues, but after a while you need something different.

I also enjoyed the next act, Greg Piccolo & Heavy Juice Expansion Pac, which was a nine-piece band led by a famous tenor saxophonist. I also enjoyed their quasi-big band style quite a bit. The last group I was was guitarist Bob Margolin and his band with vocalist Diunna Greenleaf. Margolin was good, and Ms. Greenleaf was exceptional. She sang a few songs as a tribute to the late Koko Taylor, and you could tell it was heartfelt.

The last act, to celebrate the 20th anniversary of the festival, was to be a showcase of students from a local group of music instructors. I would have stayed to hear them, but it was becoming quite cool with the sun down and I was still soaked with perspiration from when it was burning down upon us. In addition to an afternoon and evening of good music, I had an opportunity to read 200 pages or so of my current novel, making an excellent day.