After last night’s storm and the ensuing cold front, today is perfect weather for funneling beer. After all, you have to do something at Barbecue Fest when the food is still in production.

And so a handful of teams in the party mood go on a poker run. Our booth is one of the stops. Participants enter, take hits from the beer bong, get a card. Invariably, someone says “It feels so good when it hits your lips,” quoting Old School’s Frank the Tank. 

Steve acts as master of ceremonies and there is a lot of hooting and hollering. The party will be starting early this evening.

So far, things are looking brighter for The Ques Brothers, a team that went into the competition without a major sponsor this year. John Bragg, owner of the restaurant Circa, joined our team and has donated tables, chairs, booze, cups, etc. Last night, our volunteer bartenders Frank and Mikey talked up the tip jar as if it were a Presidential candidate. We made enough to buy more beer for this evening. Considering how packed our booth was last night, we need lots of tips tonight as well.

On the cooking front, Willie’s rig had a couple of minor breakdowns yesterday. The electric rotisserie quit spinning. As one of our cooks, Chicago Dave, pointed out earlier this afternoon, as he prepared a half dozen pork shoulders for the smoker, “If this thing quits turning in the middle of the night, we’re going to have a disaster.” The shoulders will smoke 16 hours before we serve them to the three judges tomorrow morning. 

The entire park and several miles downwind smell like barbecue. Hickory, mesquite and apple wood smoke billows from hundreds of chimneys. Whole hogs are splayed out, ready for the giant smokers. The crowd builds. Tonight’s feast will be larger than last night’s, if that is even possible. I’ve been assigned to watch the door tonight. We expect a throng. 

It’s been wet and cold today, but Joey Sulipeck promises — as much as a weather forecaster will actually promise — that the remainder of the barbecue contest will be fit for outdoor consumption.

Sometimes, you just gotta dance.

Does anyone remember ANY Memphis in May BBQ or Music Festival that didn’t get soaked? I’m talking any year. Tell me when it was, because I’ve forgotten. This was what it looked like after we got hit with a front that brought so much rain we couldn’t see the bridge from the tent. And did I take a picture of that to show you? Uh–NO WAY! I’m looking pretty rough already, just from being caught in the sprinkle and I was not getting out in the downpour.

But here’s the aftermath. I’m glad to report that the skies are clear(ish), and that I’m off to a tent that’s serving up seafood at 6. After that, catch me on the wine blog at 7.

I made it down pretty early because I wanted to catch Umphrey’s McGee. Last year I went to see them based solely on the fact that their 10-year-old debut album is entitled Greatest Hits: Volume 3.

That’s funny enough to merit 40 minutes of my time.
And I think I remember really liking it.

But I’m a battered and ill-cared for old robot, and I hadn’t heard them before or since, so I need to check again. I can’t accurately access that data at this time. Please wait…

I’m also rigging this old deck up with some Photoshop action, so imagery is imminent.

The weather is beautiful.

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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.

The rap master whooped that trick for the crowd Saturday afternoon at the Budweiser Stage. And afterward he dutifully thanked the Good Lord for keeping the light on him. Amen to that.

Feel-good troubador Muck Sticky kicked off the BSMF doings at the Cellular South Stage on Saturday. Here’s a personal message just for you and a bit of his show, about as much as we could publish on a responsible family Web site.

Here is a video clip and some photos from Christopher Blank of Friday’s exquisitely colorful crowd — colorful even when in black. Music is from Charlie Musselwhite’s set.

Granted, I’m sure these people didn’t make it out of the park at 11 p.m. with their shoes in such pristine condition, but at the time I caught this photo (7ish, maybe?) , it was still sort of shocking to even see this shade of white anywhere in the park.