Show Review

The last words I remember my friend saying to me before going to bed were, “let’s be at Safeway by 8:30”. As I rolled over the next morning, and hit the snooze button for the second time, I glanced at the clock that read 8:17, “so much for 8:30”. After two hours of sitting around, packing the car and otherwise just sucking time, we finally hit the road just before 11:00am. The trip was pretty uneventful, except for the rain soaking everything we had strapped to the roof, uneventful that was until we landed just inside the West Virginia border.

While getting gas, we were approached by a kid in a brand spanking new tie-dye Grateful Dead t-shirt announcing the fall 1994 tour, decked out in basketball shorts, followed closely behind by his buddy in a “wife-beater” t-shirt, jean shorts, black socks and skate shoes. Guessing correctly that we were heading to the same place, they asked if we knew the rest of the way to the show. They explained they had driven through the night from New York, but did not know how to get there. We told them to follow us. They quickly added they were going to be parking outside of the show and walking in, as they would have to leave some time during the evening to go pick their friend up. “Where might he be,” I inquired. Tie-dye explained they had been pulled over and searched and that their friend had been busted for possession and that they had to go bail him out later that night. He added, “not quite sure why we got pulled over though, we were only going a little over the speed limit.”

Back on the road it was soon apparent why they might have been pulled over, the idea of lanes seemed non-existent to them as they drove their beat-up conversion van with Coventry stickers on it from side to side with no care for those pesky yellow lines on the road. Near five miles from the gate, we saw them pull off the road, give us a wave, hide their car in the bushes so it would not get towed, and start their hike into the show.

We finally hit the turn-off for the gate, and were surprised to see them not letting cars make the turn. We quickly asked around and found out that heavy rains had flooded the roads, and that part of the dirt road leading in had been washed over. Not content to merely sit and wait, we took off over the back woods in hopes of finding another way in. After forty-five minutes and some creative use of a four-wheel drive, we made it to the back of traffic. Now the long “In-Gadda-Da-Vida” drum solo wait began. The repetitive game of turn the car off, get out, stretch your legs, see cars start to move in the distance, dive back into the car, start it up, move fifty feet, then repeat.

Finally we got to the campground around 10:30, we asked the ever so informative member of the “peace patrol” where we should camp. Pointing to a fairly empty hilltop, he said, “If I had four-wheel drive, I would head up there. It is not as wet and…” Not waiting to hear the rest of his sentence, we slammed the car into four-wheel, plowed through a puddle and climbed the hill. We eventually found a dry, fairly flat spot, set up camp and headed over to see what we had come to see, some good freakin’ music.

On the walk to the stage we heard rumors of a crane crashing into the stage, which had delayed some of the bands going on. Arriving just as Les Claypool was starting his set with the current incarnation of his Flying Frog Brigade, which included old cronies Skerik on sax, Mike Dillon on percussion, Tim Alexander on drums, and new member Les Claypool invention Gabby La La on sitar, ukulele, and weird vocals. The set was basically a chance for Claypool to put on a “Lestival” on his bass and explore every inch of the funk. From a distance Claypool’s stage antics appeared to be part of some deranged musical cartoon. A lighting problem near the end of the set forced the band to play their final two songs in the dark, but the lack of visuals only forced one deeper into the groove.

Claypool and friends gave way to the night’s headliners, The Flaming Lips and their brand of evil pop-songs. The Flaming Lips have fooled everyone, as they are not really a good band in the typical band sense. You are not blown away by their musicianship or with the intricate jams they come up with, but with the Lips that has never really been what it is about. A Flaming Lips show is a full attack on the senses. With giant screens, confetti cannons, dancing stuffed animals, lights and fake blood all taking their turn to assault the audience, the Lips create an intense show that involves the entire crowd.

For proof of this, one only had to witness me mid-set singing at the top of my lungs as they debuted a cover of Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody.” Despite being a child of Wayne’s World, I have disliked this song for as long as I can remember – every time I heard “He’s just a poor boy from a poor family,” I have wanted to violently attack the speaker from which that vile song was emanating from, but lead singer Wayne Coyne fooled me into excitement, and had me singing along with every “Scaramouch and Fandango,” as the words rolled on the giant screen karaoke style.

Flaming Lips sets do not change much from show to show, as they rely heavily on props and prerecorded videos, but that is not the point. The hand puppet singing “Yoshimi,” the Jon Stewart clip introducing “She don’t use jelly,” the “don’t snort your brain” public service announcement, are the things that define a Lip’s set. Coyne’s political ranting grew a bit tiresome, especially at the late hour, and the significance of the encore of Black Sabbath’s “War Pigs” seemed lost on many, but the Flaming Lips come to put on a show and entertain and that is what they did, they also freaked me out a bit, but in a good way.

On the long stumble back to the tent I often wondered if “tie-dye” and “black-socks” had every made it into the show. My friend thought he saw them, but I was never sure. I dove into my sleeping bag to get some rest before the morning sun heated up my tent and would eventually chase me from my sleep. Early sets Saturday afternoon by Lotus, Carbon Leaf and Ozomalti, proved to be a warm-up for what was to follow later that day.

Things really got going on the smaller stage, as New Monsoon unleashed a stellar acoustic set, which saw Bill Nershi and Jason Hahn from the String Cheese Incident sit-in. This gave way to blue-grass super heroes Yonder Mountain String Band on the main stage. Yonder started off their set with longtime All-Good festival veteran Vince Herman of Leftover Salmon. Herman lent his unique vocal stylings to the first couple of tunes. Yonder then got a chance to work out a couple of songs on their own, offering up a nice “You left me in a hole,” and “Ramblin”.

Michael Franti than strode on stage during “Deathtrip” and laid down a rap that encompassed trees, the trash, the vibes, the air, and all his friends. Jeff Austin attacked his mandolin during Franti’s rap as if his life depended on it. Near the end of the set the king of one-man rock and shoe-less dancing, Keller Williams, shuffled onstage. After a nice bit of spirited interplay, Yonder Mountain String Band wandered off stage, leaving Williams and Austin to work into “Running on Fumes,” which officially ended Yonder’s set, and began Williams. As usual his set was full of odd songs, choice covers and snippets of songs. Perhaps the heat was getting to me but I swear that I heard Dee-Lite’s “Groove is in the Heart,” Stevie Wonder’s “Superstition,”, Ben Harper’s “Glory or Consequence” and “Mary had a little lamb”. I do know that I definitely heard a “St. Stephen”>”The Eleven” combo in there. Longtime legendary (not sure what makes him legendary, but he is) All-Good MC Beetle Bob was so moved during “Ninja,” that he began pulling imaginary throwing stars from his jacket pocket and flinging them towards the stage.

The evening’s headliners The String Cheese Incident, saw their set interrupted by a complete and utter down pour that seemed to threaten to wash everyone off the side of the mountain. I found refugee in a vendor’s tent who seemed to take pleasure in dumping the rain pooling up on his tarp off onto unsuspecting people passing by. The rains broke up some of the momentum of String Cheese’s set, but a guest appearance by the Ozomalti horns during “Ring of Fire” helped things get back on track. Vince Herman again graced the stage adding vocals and guitar to “Zombie Jamboree”. The rest of the set flowed flawlessly. The encore of “Texas” seemed to remind everyone of the small West Virginia town with its lone sheriff directing traffic that we had all driven through just yesterday.

Around 2:30am the illegitimate child of Frank Zappa and Phish who grew up and formed a band with the metal loving, mullet wearing kid down the block, ascended to the stage. Opening with a double blast of pure raw energy, “Push the Pig” and “Plunger," Umphrey’s McGee officially got the highlight set of the weekend started. In one instance it was a swirl of psychedilica bringing to mind a wide range of jamband influences, then in the next instance it slipped into a full on screaming guitar solo reminiscent of a leather clad, hair-band guitar hero from an era long gone.

While guitarists Jake Cinninger and Brendan Bayliss provided the guitar antics and solos that made all the guys throw up the devil-horn hand signal – the true sign of rock, and made all the ladies swoon with lust, the true MVP of the evening was bassist Ryan Stasik. His liquid like bass lines anchored the music to a rock solid foundation that provided a groove so deep you thought you might fall into it and never get it out. Standing front center in his best rock-star stance, Stasik seemed to be literally pushing his band further and further on into the deep realms of jam-heaven with his wicked bass lines.

Chock full of highlights, the “Blue Echo”>”Much Obliged” one two punch, old school favorite “Partyin’ Peeps,” the encore “Waiting Room” and a cover of Pink Floyd’s “In the Flesh”>”Another Brick in the Wall” gave the crowd a chance to flex their sing-along skills. However the real highlight of the evening though was the unplanned improvisational segments “Jazz Odyssey” and “ Jimmy Stewart.” Segments made up of unrehearsed ideas that are fleshed out on stage, that find no two ever sounding the same. They popped up a couple of times on this evening and allowed the band to engage in some experimentation in front of a live audience. The communication within the band was amazing to watch as you could see ideas grow and evolve and then disappear into a crushing bass groove, only to rear it’s head back up a later point. Finally calling quits at 4:45am, I began the long trudge back to my camp, dodging the puddles that now covered the road from the night’s downpour and making my way past all the vendors on Shakedown still hocking their wares, “1 for $3, 2 for $5.”

Sunday brought a new day, and new rains. Making it to the stage in time to catch Victor Wooten’s set, which was mildly disappointing due to the lack of Wooten’s patented bass work early in the set. Wooten seemed content to step back and act as bandleader and give everyone in his band a turn center stage, this was not always a bad thing though. Brother Reggie Wooten laid down one of the most scintillating guitar solos of the weekend. Emerging from a classic rock medley that moved from “Kashmir jam”>”Fire”>”Shake your money maker”>”Kashmir,” Reggie Wooten gave his guitar a complete work out, that left me smiling in appreciation. Finally near the end of the set, Victor Wooten had the stage to himself and moved through a gorgeous rendition of “Amazing Grace” before getting to what we had all craved, Wooten’s face-melting bass work. Spinning his bass around his back, switching back and forth between two basses, juggling it like a yo-yo with his guitar strap, all the while ripping out sick bass line after sick line, Wooten reminded us why he is one of the best bassists on the planet.

A short solo acoustic set by Steve Kimock followed. Showcasing Kimock’s unbelievable tone on a guitar, the set was a bit misplaced in front of such a large crowd (somewhere around 16,000), and would have been better viewed in a smaller club setting. The set did prove memorable for one aspect though, it proved to be the first time I had ever Kimock speak to an audience without being pissed off because the crowd was too loud.

Sunday night closers Dark Star Orchestra followed quickly after Kimock’s brief set. From their opening note of “Man Smart, Woman Smarter,” they had the crowd locked up in their back pocket, with everyone remembering summer tours of another time. Midway through their set, the skies opened up again and unleashed another down pour on the remaining faithful, but this time the combination of the rain and the warning from the stage before Dark Star’s set of an impending storm that would bring floods to the area drove many fans to their cars and the long drive home.

On the drive out as the smell of the mud, the hay used to soak up the water, and the unshowered masses drifted into our rearview mirror, I noticed we were back on the same stretch of road where not so long ago we left “tie-dye” and “black-socks.” I looked in the woods to see if I could find a beat-up conversion van with Coventry stickers on it. I couldn’t find it. I wondered where they were? I wondered if they liked the show as much as I had? Did they even see the show? Did they ever bail their friend out?

Photos by Robert Massie