An 800 hundred mile drive is not a simple undertaking. But, for three days of musical nirvana, some people would willingly swim the distance.
That’s because Bonnaroo Music Festival, the annual jam-band and art festival in Manchester, Tenn., is an event that nobody should miss. What will be known as our generation’s Woodstock (with somewhat fewer hippies) took place this year June 15-18.
Upon arrival at Bonnaroo, I was first taken back by the tens of thousands of people who made the pilgrimage to the festival. Over 80,000 people set up camp at the 700-acre Bonnaroo farm, in RVs, tents, vans, cars, and the occasional VW Bus. The sea of tents stretched farther than the English Channel.
There were so many bands at Bonnaroo that they couldn’t possibly be reviewed in one article. And with bands such as Radiohead, Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers, Beck, Elvis Costello, Death Cab for Cutie, Ben Folds, and Matisyahu, the concerts were sure to be stellar.
The worst of these concerts was Tom Petty. His first set was memorable, playing crowd favorites such as “Running Down a Dream,” and “Free Fallin’.” His second set was as if he urinated in the crowd’s ears. Evidence included moaning into the microphone for about five minutes, covering a Bo Diddley song while crediting it to the Yardbirds, and ending the set nearly 45 minutes early.
The best concert of the weekend came from a side-project band with only one studio album. The band was Oysterhead, formed in 2001 during the simultaneous hiatuses from Phish guitarist Trey Anastasio and Primus bassist Les Claypool. With the former Police drummer, Stewart Copeland, Oysterhead rocked the stage.
The band played jam-filled versions of songs from their album, The Grand Pecking Order, with some of the best Trey Anastasio guitar solos since Phish’s heyday. Bassist Les Claypool is one of the best in the world, and his quirky style perfectly compliments his nerdy singing and lyrics.
Copeland ended the set by shouting to the crowd, “I want to just take all my clothes off and dance among you!”
Claypool responded by saying, “I, too, want to see Stewart naked!”
Another highlight was the rock-funk-jazz-country-bluegrass band moe. It’s evident that the band is hard to describe, but simply put, they rock. Its unique mix of bright rock riffs with odd time signatures fuse into a strange, yet very approachable sound. Its on-stage experimentation and long jam interludes are among the best, and the result is an electric and energetic show.
The festival was not just “jam bands.” Indie band Clap Your Hands Say Yeah delivered a terrific performance and British band Gomez was probably the most surprisingly excellent concert of the festival. Other bands included emo-influenced Bright Eyes, rappers Cypress Hill, blues guitar legend Buddy Guy, 80’s rockers Sonic Youth, and Reggae artist Damian “Jr. Gong” Marley, son of Bob Marley. Simply put, the artist lineup covered all genres and musical tastes.
Bonnaroo, however, is known for its quality gathering of “jam bands.” The most notable of these experiences took place Saturday night, when former Phish members Trey Anastasio and Mike Gordon took the stage with the Bennevento Russo Duo. The act was called “Superjam,” and it lived up to the name. Anastasio and Gordon weaved intricate jams with their obvious musical mastery. The group even invited ex-Grateful Dead bassist Phil Lesh on stage to play some of his former band’s covers.
Good news for Phish fans as well: Anastasio announced he is writing new material with Gordon.
On-stage experimentation was not limited to music during the weekend festival: the antics of the performers were as weird as ever. The backing band for Beck sat down at a dinner table during their mid-set break to have a meal. As Beck continued on guitar, the band used forks and knives to beat the rhythm on ceramic plates. If only to get weirder, the on stage video screen featured a team of puppeteers mimicking the band’s antics with marionettes.
Another weird performance was offered from Les Claypool and the Fancy Band. During a percussion break, Claypool left stage and returned wearing a Gorilla mask, followed closely by his two children, wearing pig masks. Claypool then chased the kids around stage while beating his signature one-string bass, known as the whamola, with a drum stick. As the drum break ended, the percussionist kicked all of his drums off stage a la Keith Moon of The Who; only to set them all back up again, and resume playing.
As great as the music was that weekend, the most memorable and entertaining moments were the little things that reminded me about the whole point of going to a festival.
I experienced the irony of watching public service announcements for the reduction of greenhouse gases and promotion of recycling programs, all while literally trudging through trash left by concertgoers at the festival grounds.
I heard the funniest response to those PSAs: “Go back to the North!”
I bought a sealed bottle of Gatorade that had a mysterious white substance floating in it. Unlike my coffee, I do not take my Gatorade with cream.
I saw a shirtless man spread peanut butter all over his body. Crunchy peanut butter.
I saw a billboard in Birmingham, Alabama that simply said the words, “I pooted.”
I was pulled over by a police officer in Laurel, Miss., whose canine helper falsely detected illegal drugs in my vehicle, which was completely clean. I no longer trust dogs.
These moments make a rock festival worthwhile. The point of driving over 1,600 miles round-trip is not for the music. It’s for the experience. That is something you cannot get from an album.
