2003-06-16 - 9:15 p.m.
April 19th
The morning brought a fine mist that lasted all day. We made our way to the festival and arrived an hour or so before our play. The weather didn’t seem to dampen the crowd’s spirit. People were boogieing, hooping and generally doing festival type activities. Lunch was being served backstage. Festivals are a beautiful thing. You’re treated with a certain respect that you don’t often see when you’re playing in clubs. I soon find my old friend Tammy Stewart. She’s an old Blue Sparks fan that has transplanted from Florida. We used to park our bus in her parents back yard and her mom would make big pots of beef stew. Her dad would get us liquored up on bourbon. Those were some great times that seem like a different lifetime.
Ruthie Foster was on before us and she was phenomenal! What an incredible voice! Our set was played in a drizzly mist that was not all that bad but basically soaked my equipment. We got a great response. I really love this festival. The crowd is great and included a good Jersey contingency. Fred Eaglesmith is on after us and he’s great too. Very entertaining. Backstage I ran into the guys from Blue Merle. They were doing a set on the showcase stage a little later and I had to decide whether to go and see them or check out Del McCoury on the mainstage at the same time. I wound up checking out the first 3 songs from Del and quick ran over to the showcase stage for Blue Merle. They were good. They have great arrangements and they’re all great players. They apparently are close to a deal with Def Jam records, which is totally whacked but hey, what do I know?
I find the free wine backstage. Uh oh. There could be trouble. I head back down to see Fred Eaglesmith’s dance set with Tammy and her boyfriend. She tells me there will be some pickin’ at their campsite after the festival. Fred’s even better over here. I have some more wine (feelin’ just fine, thanks for askin’) and grab my fiddle and head to Tammy’s camp with Andy. I’m fairly well self-medicated and my attempts at playing are generally not very good. I’ll have to practice drunk more often. After a while I wander off and lay myself down along side a tree (I slept like a baby with the snakes and the bugs). I figured if I took a little nap, I’d feel good enough to play some more. The last thing I remember hearing before I slipped into the arms of Morpheus was Andy’s sax ringing clear through the trees. It was a very dark, moonless night and I couldn’t see very well. I was perhaps 20 feet from the picking circle. An undetermined amount of time later I woke up and noticed I couldn’t hear Andy’s sax any more. When I returned to the circle Tammy ran up and said, “Where were you? We looked everywhere for you!” Apparently the boys came to fetch us and when they couldn’t find me they took my fiddle and went back to the motel! I was stranded! And I didn’t even have an instrument! I was fortunate enough to have a kind soul donate the back of their pick up truck and a sleeping bag and after listening for a while I fell asleep with the sounds of mandolins and guitars becoming the soundtrack of my dreams.
