The first musician who took the stage after I had missed seeing David Knopfler was the young London native Chris Chown and his band. When he took the stage the crowd had gathered quite significantly but was still fairly sparse. He began his set by playing various blues standards including a John Lee Hooker song. With his vocal style reminding me a little of Clapton's, only with less soul, I was less than involved. On the song "Let The Good Times Roll" Chown displayed a great vigor in playing the guitar and his band was quite capable as well. His sound simply lacked a certain depth to it, as if he was reaching in, but not quite far enough. Chown even tried to move the crowd to participating but with little effect, everyone seemed to be waiting instead of listening attentively. What was nice was his use of several well known guitar phrases such as Jimi Henrix's "Machine Gun" during a medley fusing many tunes into one long jam. Chown's bassist even had a chance to display his slap technique although seemed to lose the crowd's attention slightly. There just seemed to be too much concentration on what they were doing themselves, and not even as a band, instead of the necessary concentration on thrilling the crowd. The final song though was the brightest moment as the whole group played Hendix's "Little Wing" quite true to the original, although without much innovation.
The Tinsley Ellis Band was the next band to perform and were really, from what I gather, a buffer for the bang of the night; Little Feat. However, Tinsley Ellis did more than buffer for me; he really blew me away. When introduced the host announced "Get ready for one of the best show's you'll ever see!" To me, that sounds more like a car salesman than a downright honesty but I was gladly mistaken. As soon as Tinsley came out he had an air of experience. His presence magnified on the stage whereas Chown's seemed to give you the impression he was wearing shoes a few sizes too big. Tinsley immediately jumped into a gruff bluesy tune and his voice is what really stapled me to listen; he had a very gentle sound but then would reach right down in the gut with some rumbling croaks. All the players had great posture and were excellent in following Tinsley. The sound was very fun and open, it complimented being outside and listening to music; although, I wish I was resting myself down on something a little less stiff than pavement. Not only did Tinsley have an energy, he was very calm about it and knew just what to do to send you into a trance. Nothing seemed a surprise to him but he could lay em on you thick and heavenly. After one long jam where the chorus sang out "A quitter never wins!" the whole group switched to a slower, more anguished, and restless blues number. As small drops started to form and it began to rain slightly Tinsley kept playing his authentic blues songs and seemed to be calling the rain from the sky. Of the three members though the real foundation lay in the drummer's hands. He was never wild and pounding on double kicks, he was basic and stayed on beat; keeping time with impeccable precision. As the show roared to a close the band jammed in an outer-space blues and then tore down the stage, figuratively speaking, for their finale. The crowd was really appreciative and gave the group a near standing ovation as Tinsley Ellis and his band sauntered off stage.
By now the crowd was starting to form. More and more people started unfolding their lawn chairs, grabbing a beer or two, and awaiting restlessly the group they all came to see. I decided to buy a funnel cake and took to my seat again for the final show of the evening. Finally, as night came to turn and the stage lights brightened the parking lot, Little Feat took to the stage. With seven members rounding out the band's diverse ensemble, I knew immediately these guys would deliver something different. From the first notes of their performance the band was introduced as a contemplative and attentive group; each member listening to the others with great clarity and allowing the sound to fill itself out. Sounds of guitars, organs, shakers, and a tambourine flew into the night air, and colorful whisps of sound circulated throughout the parking lot. After uproarious applause from the crowd they began their next song and the sound was different yet again. This time a more danceable song came out and an era of not-so-long-ago was filtered into my ears. The band was so natural, everything you might enjoy about the blues was available. At one point I imagined a high undulating organ to sweep into the mix and what-do-ya-know in comes a high pitched organ right from the keys of Bill Payne. The sound was not a rigid blues sound but a more easy going and temperate sound you could latch onto; it either made you downright happy or made you want to shake a little. The third song was a tune featuring multi-instrumentalist and gruff vocalist Fred Tackett fronting the band and carrying them through to a very sweet jam, perfectly complimenting the crisp night time air. The diversity that the band carried is what really made them stick out, you might've not liked one song but you were bound to like the next. Although I had to dash out early because the rain started to fall and I was left without an umbrella, the sounds filtered through the buildings and oozed onto the street; a lone saxophone even started playing in tune with my exit as though it was a scene from a film noir flick. I was satisfied with my bluesy experience and looked forward to tomorrow's show.
When I arrived the next day already onstage was a rather burly looking man, long white beard, and a raging rhythmic sound coming from the speakers. The man already on stage and protruding a soulful voice reminiscent of the finest blues musicians was none other than Bill Durst. The music was something of a mix between hard edged metal and deep rooted blues, and it worked. Bill Durst, manning the guitar, played the pentatonic scale with ease and drove a raging flurry of notes and phrases knit tightly to the 8 bars of each song. Some of the songs were of recognizable origin, like "Man of Constant Sorrow", and others were original songs he wrote either for his newer albums or during his days in the London based group Thundermug. It was a fine opening for the day and I was even lucky enough to snatch some moments and talk to Bill about blues and life here.
Looking a little like Muddy Waters and sporting a very light orange suit Chris Beard took to the stage to bring it back home to the very roots of blues. Chris brought his band along consisting of an organ player, a bassist, and a drummer and the results were fiery. I was told Chris was going to be parading through the crowd and shooting off riffs and so eagerly watched the show. Chris immediately showed heartfelt knowledge of the blues and played like a natural. His licks and riffs were well timed and well conceived, albeit maybe a bit too rocking for the mid afternoon crowd. He sang in a typical bluesy voice but it was his guitar playing that really brought me in. I got nice and close to the stage and watched him as he closed his eyes and pulled the notes out of his guitar as though he was digging into himself. His band seemed to lag behind him a bit and let him weave his magic, which may have been slightly detrimental to the performance of the show. If his band was behind him every step of the way then the show would have been lifted to astral heights. That said though, the performance was a fine one and the treat of having Chris mingle with the audience while belting out the blues brought it all down to earth in a very humbling way.
"And now the biggeset little man in show business" was the announcement as Lil' Ed, the five foot one blues-man, took the stage with his road tested band The Blues Imperials. Right from the start Lil' Ed knew what to do to get the crowd moving, to get them clapping, to get them shaking, and to generally please them. Although his style was well rooted in the blues tradition I found it bordering a little too much on the rock and roll stylings of stuff like Buddy Holly or even Bill Haley and the Comets. Although what Lil' Ed played was the true origin of these groups, you couldn't help make the reference to the similarities in sound. What was really nice though was the the way the band looked on stage, it just gave you the feeling they knew what they were about. The big bass player was dressed all in light blue and carried a flashy blue bass. Lil' Ed himself wore his trademark hat and jumped and jammed on stage like no other musician. It was just nice to see the musicians interact and Lil' Ed direct with enthusiasm and absolute glee. The music sounded very perfected, like an on schedule train, and was well suited to the hot Saturday afternoon sun. The modest "we thank ya" still echoes in my ears as I remember the rollicking performance of Lil' Ed and The Blues Imperials.
Probably my least favorite band of the afternoon was the Southern group Molly Hatchet who came to "kick ass!". What I enjoy about the blues is it's inconsiderate appearance; eyes closed, apparently lost in their own world, wrapped up in their pain, and feeding you dosages of soul like no other music can. Molly Hatchet tore all this down for me and brought a different kind of inconsideration to the festival. When they came on stage they were all adorned with some kind of style; the lead singer wore a ten gallon hat, the lead guitarist a bandana, the second guitarist all black and a flat black hat, the long haired drummer, and then the very average ripped t-shirt bassist. They all seemed to be formed from a mold, as though you've seen them before imitated and emulated again and again; as B.B. King might say "the thrill is gone". The band kicked off with a big bang and never let the music soak in like it could have. They played like wild cowboys on a runaway train. The singer had a gruff Southern growl and he would implement it on every song. It came off sounding something like Ronnie Hawkins and the Hawks; only amped up 100 watts. You definitely got the impression the group came from the same vein as The Allman Brothers, Lynard Skynard, and Creedance Clearwater Revival; only with much less soul. At one instant the lead singer brought an American Flag out and held it up behind the guitarist as he was ripping off rapid scales, perhaps with the intent to glorify the moment, but it came off a little too patriotic and irritated more than it inspired. The band even implemented often humorous routines of lining up and swaying in time with each other and then kicking of holding up their arms for every 4th beat. There was no spontaneity and no soul, just a lot of performance. By the end of their set I had heard so many epic finales (they would use this device at the end of each song) that it had lost it's effect for me and I limply clapped them off.
The Yardbirds were the last show I had a chance to see but were the second last before David-Clayton Thomas. The band took to the stage looking a little weary and uninspired but managed to bring their spirits into the music with every song they played. If you are unfamiliar with the Yardbirds, here's a little history. The Yardbirds were formed at the height of the British rock and roll movement alongside the Rolling Stones and The Animals, and graduated three of the finest rock and roll guitarists known: Eric Clapton, Jimmy Page, and Jeff Beck. Now, those Yardbirds aren't exactly the same as the ones I witnessed on stage but the spirit is still there and it is unmistakable. They mainly play the festival circuit now and with a daring business like manner; there is no tom-foolery, no getting cosy with the audience; the music comes first and foremost and is up-front. The vocals aren't quite as powerful now as they must have been then but it was never their focus. The music prevails and even with their much younger guitarist (20 year old Ben King) now playing with them they are able to connect and conduct music like many groups still only aspire too. The harmonica playing of Alen Glen was great classic train-wreck style blues harp and fit the Yardbirds mandate of eclectic rock and roll excellently. As the day wore on and afternoon slowly drifted into evening the Yardbirds kept jamming away. The jams were actually some of the best of the festival and let each member relay their musical voice to the fullest. As I left the show I was reflecting on how bands can change and alter their members yet still somehow keep the spirit of their most recognizable sound.
It's comforting to know that not every corner in the world is overrun by glamourous popdom and that in someplaces there still remains the admirable qualities of hard work, discipline, innovation, and tradition. If you pine for the traditional elements of blues and rock and roll without the added celebrity than search out these festivals around you; they are more abundant and enjoyable than you might think.
I also had a chance to speak with Chris Gould, one of the spokesmen of the Festival. You can find his interview here.
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