My husband and I flew up to Pensacola Thursday evening (1/16) to meet up with my college roommate Linda and her husband Craig. I had booked our flights on Silver Airways, because it was the only airline that flew non-stop from Ft. Lauderdale (we hate Miami Airport). I knew something was awry when I checked in the night before and saw there were only 48 seats on the plane. Yikes! We got to the airport, went to the gate and, when they called our flight, I looked out the window and joked to Chico that the little pink prop plane on the tarmac was ours. Um... yup. Taxied so far and long on the runway, my next joke was that we were just going to drive I-75/I-10 all the way to Pensacola. Fortunately, we did take off at some point, and to be fair to them, it was a nice, smooth flight, as was the return trip ("and I'd do it again", Dar, different song).
Linda and Craig picked us up at the airport, we spent Thursday night, swung by Wendy (Linda's co-teacher before they retired, and her husband) and her husband Don's house Friday morning, ate lunch in Destin, and finally got to our cabin in Santa Rosa Beach about 3:30 p.m., whereupon we quickly got settled so we could hear some music. The festival is named 30A after the highway most of the venues are on, with a few offshoots. It's pricey, with an extensive line-up, and sets you up for failure in that you're never going to see everyone you want to, and basically have to decide on a venue to sit through for the evening, as opposed to bopping around from place to place. Wah!
We collaboratively agreed on a Friday night plan, and headed out to see two rounds: Eliot Bronson and Danielle Howle, both of whom I am familiar with (she opened for Ani DiFranco at the Carefree Theatre in West Palm Beach a bazillion years ago!). Amazing set, and a great way to start our festival experience. Next round was Sierra Hull and Steve Poltz, the first a discovery of Craig's at Merlefest and the second a Bucket List item for me (Jewel's boyfriend and co-writer a long-time ago). She was a young, beautiful, mandolin whiz and he an older, energetic nutjob (in the best possible way), such that, even though I'm on a buying moratorium, I had to spring for a T-shirt. Another great set, to end the evening... :-)
Back to the cabin for late-night snacking and drinking, up again Saturday morning for coffee, then on to the outdoor amphitheatre, where the gates opened at 11 a.m., music beginning at noon. The festival modus operandi for both Saturday and Sunday is to showcase three big-name acts at this large venue exclusively, with no other music running concurrently. Saturday was Tanya Tucker, Indigo Girls, and John Prine. Tanya is back on the scene after a 17-year hiatus, largely due to the support/encouragement of Brandi Carlile (and just had a showcase spot at the last night's Grammys).
The next two sets were Indigo Girls (Emily had a bad cold, which really affected her voice, but we did get to sing along to Closer to Fine and Galileo); and John Prine, who looked and sounded amazing, showcasing several tunes on his new CD, Tree of Forgiveness, which I need to listen to immediately. He also called Tanya Tucker back to sing harmony with him on Angel from Montgomery and Paradise.
We all went on to the next venue, got there just as they were taking a break, and breezed right in, waiting only 10 minutes for a round with Sierra Hull (previously-described mandolin whiz), Allison Moorer (ex-wife of Steve Earle, sister of Shelby Lynne), and Mindy Smith. All were great, but I was especially captivated by Moorer who, after decades of keeping it quiet, has recently written a book and a companion CD, about her father murdering her mother, and then turning the gun on himself, which she and her sister witnessed when they were children. Her song Nightlight broke my heart.
Then... TODD!!! When I discovered early in the festival that I was never going to be able to see everyone I wanted, I basically said that as long as I could hear Todd Snider, I was happy. Mission Accomplished, in the best possible way! His performances can go either way: on-task, focused songwriting and storytelling, or off-the-rails, drugged-out, mumbling, stumbling, possibly cutting his set short. Fortunately, he was more of the former, as Linda had seen him a few years back (exhibiting latter behavior), and was unimpressed. We got to sing along to Beer Run, and he did some introspective songs as well. He also told a story about wearing shoes lately on stage, as he had performed barefoot all his life, which his doctor said was probably the reason for many of Todd's health problems. "Well, that and drugs", he said, "but at least I met him halfway". Hilarious!
Sunday morning, back to the outdoor amphitheatre to end up in the same place we were the day before, a few rows behind the fence of the VIP area. Good sightlines, plus they had a Jumbotron on either side of the main stage with close-ups. I said before that this festival is pricey, and VIP tickets were even more so. It's a wealthy demographic, and I joked all weekend about the plethora of animal prints in the women's clothing: jackets, shirts, headbands, and boots. Begone the rain of the day before; it was now sunny and cold. I wore my pussy hat... :-)
As I was headed to the food tent to buy a cup of coffee, I ran into someone I had met the day before, who told me that David Olney had died onstage the night before, and a feeling of such sadness overtook me. From Amy Rigby...
The day's line-up was nostalgia: Herman's Hermits with Peter Noone, Don McLean, and Brian Wilson. Peter Noone was charming and spritely, saying that they didn't write any new songs for this gig; instead they would perform all the songs we knew and loved... and they did! From Henry the VIII to Mrs. Brown to There's a Kind of Hush, they led us on a journey of our past, and muscle memory kicked in and the audience sang along to everything. Such fun! Don McLean was a big yawn/snore, ending up with American Pie (he didn't even do Vincent), which was cool but not enough. Brian Wilson lent his name to the next set, and sang on about every fourth song, but all the "heavy lifting" was done by the other 10 guys on stage, who were amazing. Brian just looked sad and cold, even wiping his nose on his sleeve a few times, and the camera crew soon learned to focus elsewhere. There was a part in the middle of the set of "new" songs, which no one in the audience knew, and people began to leave. Again, so very sad.
Back to the room to warm up and eat, then into town again to hear an in-the-round with four songwriters in the venue where Olney had died the night before, which set the mood for a very somber evening. Then on to hear Mary Gauthier (who I adore), accompanied by Jaimee Harris, her accompanist/girlfriend, and Will Kimbrough (who used to play lead guitar for The Nervous Wrecks, Todd Snider's band, and is quite the talent in his own right). The night continued on a serious note, as Will shared that Olney was his across-the-street neighbor, and said that he would be going home to a very different neighborhood. He then quoted the iconic singer songwriter Townes Van Zandt: "Anytime anyone asks me who my favorite music writers are, I say Mozart, Lightnin' Hopkins, Bob Dylan, and Dave Olney. Dave Olney is one of the best songwriters I've ever heard – and that's true. I mean that from my heart", and then proceeded to play To Live Is to Fly, which I adore. Not a dry eye in the house.
Back to the cabin for our ritual of eating, drinking, and yakking... then up the next morning to pack and check out. The cabin was within walking distance of the gulf, so we of course had to do that, and we strolled along the beach for over an hour, witnessing the beauty of Mother Nature's blue skies, fluffy clouds, and sun sparkling on the water. Tried to see a bit more music on our way out of town, but all three venues we stopped at were packed, so we bid adieu to 30A, and headed back to Pensacola.
The F*cking End!
POEM: The Uses of Sorrow by Mary Oliver
Someone I loved once gave me
a box full of darkness.
It took me years to understand
that this, too, was a gift.
QUOTE: "When your time comes to die, be not like those whose hearts are filled with fear of death, so that when their time comes they weep and pray for a little more time to live their lives over again in a different way. Sing your death song, and die like a hero going home." ~ Tecumseh
P.S. I think the hardest thing about coming back to blogging is going to be... not repeating songs, books, poems, and quotes I've already used. Ack!
P.S. I think the hardest thing about coming back to blogging is going to be... not repeating songs, books, poems, and quotes I've already used. Ack!
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