Friday
The sun is preying on us almost as soon as it makes its first appearance. I learned a lot of lessons last year, our first covering Bonnaroo. One being to make sure you have shade. I also brought along a fan. My circadian rhythm is pretty tuned to be up with the sun most of the time anyway. I head to the media tent, which is quite comfortable at Bonnaroo. Some festivals put you in a tailgate canopy with some spotty wifi. Bonnaroo makes sure there is plenty of Liquid Death on hand and an air conditioner blowing, which makes coverage easier on so many levels.
I set out to finish my conversation with Alisa Amador which was recorded before the Grounded Summer Tour. This summer off from my day job as a teacher has been more creatively fruitful than any other in my life. I have been treating creative work as my full time job and it is paying off in ways I did not expect.
A couple of episodes are in the can. My talk with Alisa as well as one I recorded with Drayton Farley at the wonderful - if very different - Laurel Cove Festival the previous weekend just need some light editing. Plus, we are due to record with Milky Chance on Sunday.
Friday’s schedule is much more in my wheelhouse. This is where I need to remember my own advice. First, no FOMO. Second, pace thyself. 49 Winchester goes on at 2:00. Lead singer and principal songwriter Isaac Gibson was a guest on my podcast The Marinade a couple of years ago. We had one of those talks where Ieft an even bigger fan of the band than before we met. Somehow, their live show has evaded me and I am ready to remedy that today.
Isaac is a natural country rock and roll front man. He’s got the look, the swagger, and a little of the mystique. The day is young and festival goers are still arriving. I feel grateful I called things early last night. 49 Winchester is absolutely ripping apart the What Stage. Several 49 hats are visible, but there has to be a boat load of converts in this crowd.
With due respect for what some of the cross over country stars have done - that sweet spot between country that appeals to the masses and good songwriting - many of the folks who are selling out stadiums don’t do it quite like 49 Winchester. Next time your buddy says he really isn’t into country music but he likes Zach Bryan, spin some tunes by Isaac and the boys.
FOMO check. Bonny Light Horseman kicks off right after the last note of 49 Winchester’s set. I know what I said earlier, but I’m not missing this set. A full hour of the boys from Virginia was good medicine. Let’s ride this wave.
SShitty cell phone video of Bonny Light Horseman
Bonny Light Horseman is Anais Mitchell, Eric D. Johnson (Fruit Bats), and Josh Kaufman (Josh Ritter.) Supergroup is the term often used to describe the band on account of the success of the individual members apart from this project. Supergroup is a term that both encompasses the enormity of Bonny Light Horseman and skips over the special synergy of these souls.
Anais Mitchell is a quasar. Even in such illustrious company she occupies the space in a way that makes everyone else present fall from relevance. This is the kind of set that reminds you to go to the show.
I am tired. The heat is bleeding energy but the festival is giving life. Gary Clark, Jr. has a set on the way and I need to rest for a minute so as to be present for that. He’s an artist I’ve loved for years but somehow have yet to see.
At some point one wakes up and finds that artists they’ve followed for much of their lives have been at it for a couple of decades. The realization is shocking but necessary.
I have no idea what Gary Clark, Jr. sounded like live in 2000 whatever year he sang “You gonna know my name by the end of the night” which he’s doing right now. Right now he sounds like the coolest mother fucker on the planet. Looks like it too.
But I need shade. Faye Webster is a name I sort of know. She’s playing in the “That Tent” and providing a respite from the sun. And she is slaying her set.
This is why we go to festivals. Megan Thee Stallion still has a set on the way. Red Hot Chili Peppers. Post Malone. Yet, Faye Webster has a hold on me.
Back at camp resting for a few before Khrauangbin and Interpol I meet my camp neighbors. People make a festival. Live music is always going to hit. The moments of connection with fellow music lovers. Organic discoveries go beyond sonic scapes on The Farm.
I have two sets left in me and one of those is a bucket list opportunity. Khraungbin would be a set I must consume in full with most conflicts. On this day, I have to see Interpol. Interpol is a late-twenties band for me. That period of life where you are hyper in tune with new experiences and music is near the center of your universe.
In my twenties there was a culture of blogs writing about and sharing music. Each generation has its ways of spreading the word. For us there were some very cool websites. Social media was still young so you had to pick the right spot, which surprisingly kept us out of lanes. I think of eMusic, No Depression, and Blender as examples of spaces that turned me on to new stuff. In one of those places I learned about Interpol.
shitty cell phone photo of Interpol
They were singing about things that felt so far from my existence yet hit for me. I was swimming in the feeling of being hit by new sensations and that’s the state I find myself in now.
It’s a bit of a slow start that almost immediately shifts to the kind of groove Paul Banks and the boys achieve on record. When you wait this long to see a band, it’s natural to be patient with the results. I’m probably being generous with my assessment, but there’s no question this is my favorite set of the weekend thus far.
Might be nostalgia. Might be the moment. I’m here either way and it is a special experience.
The evening is full of big sets but I need to be in Nashville tomorrow to pick up my love. And I can’t wait. She has never been to a camping festival. Introducing someone to that magic is priceless. Post Malone is about to play. T-Pain. The Mars Volta! Thundercat! I remind myself of the big maxim. No FOMO. Gotta get some sleep to make the most of the next two days.