Michael Donahue submits his latest audio blogging from the 2008 Memphis in May Beale Street Music Festival. He interviews fans about rubber boots, bright red dyed hair, general impressions of the festival and the best musical moments.
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I just heard Finger Eleven play their ultrasupermegahit “Paralyzer” with bits of Led Zeppelin (“Talk About Love” “Trampled Under Foot”*) and Pink Floyd (”Another Brick in the Wall”) songs stuck in there like the balogna inside a headbanging sandwich.
Can they do that? Is that allowed?
Well, the crowd seemed to enjoy it.
So, okay. I’ll let it slide.
edit, 10:40 p.m. * Wow, enormous brain fart there. And no, you cannot have any of what I’m smoking.
Mayor Willie Herenton just presented Aretha Franklin with a key to the city. As soon as he stepped on stage, the crowd booed and hissed. A lot. It’s not altogether a shocking reaction, but still. It was weird.
Internet, I’ve discovered why I don’t care so much for jam bands. I was watching Umphreys McGee just a bit ago, and I was really enjoying all the pasty white folks doing their swaying pasty white folk dance (you know the one), when it occurred to me that I had been listening to the same song for at least ten minutes. Except that it sounded nothing like the song that I had begun listening to and in fact could have become three or four different songs but was still the same godforsaken song that it was ten minutes before. And then I began to wonder if the song was ever going to end, or if UM just plays one incredibly long song per show. And then I started to get stressed out. Because don’t they need to take breaks so they can reach up and wipe the sweat from their brows? What if a bee landed on the drummer’s nose? What if they picked a song to play for their one-song set and no one liked it? What if people left before the end of the one and only song? How would they ever know how it ended? WHAT ABOUT CLOSURE?!?
This is why people drink at these festivals: KILL THE BRAIN CELLS, KILL THE STUPID THOUGHTS.
First you get an expert like Tony Thomas who has done it half a dozen times before for Jerry Lee Lewis. Here he reveals a few other tricks to keep on rockin’.
Calvin Cooke of Detroit, has been called the “B.B. King of gospel steel guitar.” Well, make up your own label, he is one awesome practitioner of the steel guitar and here’s a sampling from his stint Sunday at the Tennessee Lottery Blues Tent.
Tom Lee Park is a fragmented mess of smelly mud and trampled grass today. I’ve seen lone flip-flops left behind, stuck in the mud — annual sacrifices to the outdoor festival gods. Where do all the abandoned flip-flops go? I’m sure they just chuck ‘em with the rest of the random crap people leave behind, but I’m thinking there’s a higher calling for them. (A good flip-flop is a terrible thing to waste.) Something akin to One Cold Hand. We’ll call it One Muddy Foot. And all the abandoned flip-flops from the previous MusicFest will be on display the following year in a tent next to George Hunt’s art. Are you listening, MIM organizer people? Call me. I’m full of horrible ideas. And I’ll give most of them to you for free.
I’m sitting here in the air conditioned media trailer beside videoblogging genius Jon Sparks, who’s chowing down on some BBQ, beans, and coleslaw and crafting his next piece. He will probably kill me for telling you that (I plan to run away before he finds out), but sometimes I like to hold the curtain back so the people know what really happens behind the scenes at these things. I mean, besides all the boozin’ and torrid backstage love affairs between twentysomething journalists bloggers and the rock stars they blog about.
I’m sad that I missed the action yesterday; I was at my cousin’s wedding (live long and prosper, Keri and Randy!). So I didn’t get to see my girl Cat Power and my girls Tegan and Sara. But today I’m psyched to see my girl Aretha. Actually, I have to remark that this year’s festival has been a good one for female acts. Of course, I’ll be lining up to see Fergie so that I can mark the exact moment that she sets the movement back.
Oh, I kid because I love.
George Hunt has been doing the Beale Street Music Festival poster for 17 years. He’s got a gallery next to the Blues Tent where he’s signing posters throughout the day. And after all these years, he’s still having a great time.
Iconoclastic bluesman Richard Johnston is, in a way, responsible for the Southern Comfort Blues Shack being introduced at this year’s Beale Street Music Festival. Last year, the one-man band who plays anywhere he can around town, found a spot at Tom Lee Park during the 2007 festival and did his thing. Memphis in May didn’t get mad, it got creative and put up the SoCo shack to provide music between sets at the Tennessee Lottery Blues Tent.
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