Ryan ChartrandThings are intentionally a bit out of order in this article. Just a warning. I’m a wreck of fizzling nerve endings. I haven’t changed clothes for the last three days. I’m so out of it right now that feeling like a giant fungus is OK.
My brain only encases random memories of the Folk Yeah! sprawling three-day music festival in Big Sur. Poking at the neurons in my head lets loose a few sparks and scattered dying moments.
Friday night: I can’t remember who’s playing. It’s either Whalebones or Howlin’ Rain. The result feels like a riotous return to Southern Rock. But I’m not watching the show. I’m watching a man who is at least in his 60s and clad in a long-sleeve, collared shirt that is tucked into a pair of pants. He’s dancing manically while everyone strolls around him to the bar. Two hours pass by.
Sunday morning: I catch YACHT while he’s standing outside his hotel room. The night before, his live show erupted across the stage after he sprinted from a cab straight to the Fernwood stage. He only had two instruments: his laptop and his voice.
His live show is a glorious mishmash of excess, effeminate dancing and awkward collisions. And whoever continues DJing after YACHT’s set makes my whole night a mishmash of the same things. I buy a CD in his hotel room and it feels like a drug deal. Doors close. Money changes hands.
Saturday afternoon: The bands have three campsites that sit dangerously close to a Baptist church van. I’m standing outside of one of them with the members of Port O’Brien.
We write the review of the show out loud and it goes something like this: “Awash in a sea of too many drugs and too much booze, Port O’Brien woefully underperforms. Their stale songs have a rough time leaving a dent on the unimpressed crowds.” It’s not true though. It’s their best show I’ve seen. When they close with “I Woke Up Today,” there’s dancing and screaming and a deep lasting satisfaction.
Sunday afternoon: I run into April, who is married to Britt, who runs Folk Yeah! I can’t help but feel jealous. The two are only a bit older than me and spend scattered weekends in Big Sur running concerts for a variety of folk performers. I want to stay on as a dishwasher.
Instead, I catch Citay, who unleashes its heavy orchestral psychedelia on the Earth Day gathering.
Random memories: Devendra Banhart hanging outside of the lodge and then disappearing just as quickly. The man who sees me Sunday morning and says, ” That guy was really into YACHT” because of me staggering dance moves the night before. The girl from The Finches hovering in space when she talks about Earth Day. The girl with a beautiful European accent who asks me if she can catch a ride up north. Myself doing lots of a capella covers of ’90s radio hits.
Taking band photos in a meadow for a band that doesn’t exist.
Show tip: Need a dose of folk music after hearing my hazy memories? We will be hosting Loch Lomond at the Steynberg Gallery on Saturday at 8 p.m. Iamb and Threes and Nines will also play. Tickets are $5.