Northlands 2026: Am I Still a Noob?

Joe Russo | Northland Music Festival - Swanzey, NH | photos by Stites McDaniel

The life of a music journalist, a term used as gingerly as an amateur dart player describes himself as an athlete, can be full of upending moments. Getting the call on Tuesday before the festival, for the second year in a row, asking me to cover Northlands was one of those moments. But I could do it. Three-plus decades of the improvisational live music circus had prepared me for this. I'm no noob. Right?

Northlands Music & Arts Festival | Swanzey, NH

Friday
Driving across Vermont and into New Hampshire on a cool spring day, seeing the season willingly turning into summer and familiarizing myself with some of the bands I had only heard of when reading the Northlands announcement, is a great way to spend a Friday afternoon. Fewer people on my social radar were planning to attend the festival this year, so I knew I would have the freedom of a lone traveler. In my live music experience, the smaller the crew, the freer your mind. I was camping with a friend and his wife but felt little reliance on them, and vice versa. I was going to let my ears and mood guide me through the festival this year, program be damned. This was a mantra that came to be truer than I had realized. What happened to the programs? Since the internet was spotty on the festival grounds, many folks would've appreciated a paper guide. But I digress.

The first band I see at a festival can set the tone, not just for the day, but for the weekend. Hayley Jane, formerly with the Primates, did that for me. The Björk-like mix of sound and theatrics put me right into the mood I needed for the day. I had set up camp, met the couple staying with my other buddy, and split. I needed dust under my feet, sunshine on my neck, and my ears ringing after the first three songs of photos. When I emerged from the photo pit, the size of the crowd for the day's first band took me by surprise. Granted, the festival had provided music and experiences on Thursday night too for the real die-hards, but the actual festival, covered under the one-ticket price, was starting on Friday. Historically, hot, mid-day Friday afternoon slots have been for the hardcore. The stalwarts. Clearly, this year, the hundreds in front of Hayley on the main stage didn't get the memo. Thanks for Juneteenth off, I suppose.

Hayley continued to flash the whitest smile in rock 'n' roll throughout her set, even when I turned around and she was dancing in the crowd right behind me. And my Björk-like reference may not have been spot on. Someone in the crowd called it sexy-jam. Hayley approved. Hayley's passion for what she is doing is audible, visible, and contagious. You can't help but buy in.

Northlands continues to have a two-stage setup, the Mountain and Echo stages, with the intent of seamless set breaks, so a few steps away from the final notes of Hayley's set, and I was already in front of Magoo from Denver. The contrast of jam-grass on the Echo Stage only shared what would be the common theme through the weekend: the jam. While Hayley Jane knew what the script said about where the jams would land, Magoo crept up on them, surprising themselves as well as the crowd. Not often do you see a man with one working leg rock the mandolin twice as hard as everyone else. "I have a doctor's note," he told the crowd, stoically standing on his brace.

A festival is a marathon, and I was ready for a quick recharge at the aptly named Shady Grove campsite. It was a quick walk from the main festival grounds back to my campsite, and it took me past the indoor and outdoor stages in the campground. The indoor venue hosted several DJs throughout the weekend, with late-night silent discos, but if you know anything about me, you know I rarely make it past the headliners.

Prepare for a humble brag in 3, 2, 1. At the Dead shows I was fortunate enough to attend in the '90s, I recognized how the East Coast hippies had a brand all their own. The modern iteration of that, playing out at festivals like Northlands, is continuity through discontinuity. No two people are the same. I've been on the West Coast and in Colorado and felt that we were all marching to the same beat, which has its own amazing experience. Here, all of our individual bubbles were pressing against each other. I thought about that when checking out Circles Around the Sun, whose driving funk-beat instrumental started the show, pulling the mulling afternoon crowd toward the stage, forcing us to move our feet. I wondered: is the natural build of a jam creating energy in the crowd one of the greatest feelings? Friday afternoon, and I'd already gotten my first set that took me away. They are the cousin to Khruangbin. The child of Herbie Hancock and the North Mississippi Allstars. Craftsmen of tone. I'd forgotten what I was here to do. Pondering faded. Mindful dancing began. But before I could slip further into a Zen state, my noob-ness began showing. I had noted the strength and power of the instrumental as a choice for the beginning of the set, not realizing they're an instrumental band. Yup, it was my first Circles show. Still, the complex guitar-driven blues jam with the dance tracks behind the blues guitar was captivating. This will not be my last Circles show.

When I had gone back to the campsite, I got to spend a little more time getting to know one of the guys camping with me. Steve. It was his first Circles show too. A fellow noob. But this was his first festival. Not sure how much noob-ier you can get. But while some scenes within our scene judge you on show counts, the true individuality of most attendees at Northlands allowed Steve to just be another person looking for the joy that Northlands seemed to guarantee all who came on board.

A band like Ghost-Note, who followed on the Echo Stage, is a proven festival commodity. Sped-up New Orleans funk with a horn section will always have an audience, even if they aren't the weekend's biggest draw. But my time with them was cut short because of a media wristband snafu that brought me back to the check-in tent.

Northlands intelligently keeps the same people working the same jobs throughout the weekend, even over several years when they can. So when I went back to the media check-in, I was greeted by a statue of the Buddha and Buddha himself. No, not the big guy, flowing robes, and all of that other stunning stuff; instead, it was Buddha, who has worked at the Media/Artist Check-In for years, making all of our run-ins consistent so a relationship can grow. Thank you, Buddha.

Snafus behind me, I walked back to the main stage to see Mihali's set, which felt like the first headliner of the weekend. His current band is a mixture of musicians from Twiddle, Psychedelic Breakfast, and other bands now backing up just one word. Said band, playing Mihali's brand of California reggae funk, with a Tim Palmieri sit-in, felt more like an East Coast family (band) reunion, further driven home by the kids in the front row singing along. Mihali is for everyone. But just as his life has not been one steady climb, neither is his music all rainbows and weed names. But with his reality, this guy moves people to tears, to sing along, and to relate, whether a tyke at the rail or an elder in the field.

Is there one of you who reads Grateful Web for the Little Stranger reviews? A little tongue-in-cheek, sure, but their sound is not what drew me to the Grateful Dead. Still, the mix of guitar, synthesizer, and horns with a hip-hop beat in the background and lyrics spitting on top breaks up a festival's day, and how. This is the kind of band that brings a young mom out to sing along, coffee in one hand, joint in the other, and a kid with a flat brim dancing beside her.

If Little Stranger was the opening act, Dirty Heads embodied the white rap with ska vibe. Their Joe Walsh remix of "Life's Been Good" scratched an itch I don't have. But I was in the minority. It takes all kinds.

Walking back to the campground, I passed four sheriffs escorting a fan wearing a JRAD shirt out of the campground. His hands were bound behind his back. Seemed like as good a sign as ever to pack it in for the day, as I desired to make meditation at the wellness tent at seven. And I hoped the JRAD fan made bail before the next night's headliner.

Saturday
I woke up to the announcement that Andrew Barr wouldn't be playing with The Slip. While his drumming is truly the backbone of the band, having Joe Russo sub wasn't the worst call to the pen.

I climbed out of my tent and headed for the Wellness area, finding myself wandering through the festival before 7 a.m., marveling at the lush green foothills outside of the fairgrounds, serenaded by the sound of a gentleman throwing up into a plastic bag next to his Ford truck. When I got down to the vending area in the campground, I was entertained by the community piano as a passerby sat down and tickled the ivories with professional precision, all the while being talked at by the coke head who put down the bag at four to eat mushrooms and was wondering why he wasn't feeling his best. A question to ponder indeed.

Post-meditation (om), the threat of rain kept me close to camp. But the laughs abounded, and I didn't plan to make my way to the stages until Kanika Moore's slot.

Festival campgrounds are such unique melting pots. Justin cooked us breakfast, made from leftovers of last night's burrito and farm-fresh eggs, while I continued to revel in the newness of Steve's overall experience. We wondered if the teenagers in the collapsing tent next door were pitching their own tent, finally out from the watchful eye of their Amy Poehler in Mean Girls mom. "I'm the cool mom!"

Jatoba, who started the day on the Mountain Stage, was a bluegrass trio that was full of energy. That's great because, according to the Campground Stage schedule, they were slated to play about nine more sets. They were the exception to the rule because, minus sit-ins and artists-at-large, most acts get one slot to make their mark at Northlands.

Speaking of schedules, curse me for taking a picture of the schedule for the Mountain and Echo stages. Remember when I was complaining about the internet and programs? Call back! Steve, the festival noob, and I were walking past the Echo Stage on our way to Jatoba when I saw a band warming up. I thought it was weird that Kanika Moore had an all-white backing band of post-college suburbanites. I thought it was even weirder that she didn't come out to sound check. Then, it was my noob-ness showing again because Kanika had been delayed and Annie in the Water had taken her slot. While they join an ever-growing list of groups kneeling at the altar of Phish, their sound is smart and fresh, their songwriting is catchy and edgy, so yeah, they might already be in the high minors. They sang a soulful new tune. Their lyrics were topical but poignant: "Tik tok fame. Clock won't change. Somehow I get older." They covered "You Get What You Give" by the New Radicals. In the Phish-influenced ether, these guys quickly rose for me, and I will see them again.

Speaking of Steve and both of our experiences, it was during Annie in the Water's set that I realized there may be an elephant in the room. Or at this festival. Or every festival. Either way, the truth is festivals aren't for everyone. As I walked away from the main stage to the upper field full of vending and saw the vibe this place had, a vibe that couldn't suit me better, I thought of friends who couldn't handle this experience. And for those of you reading this, we all know one person, one couple, one family with kids who would thrive barefoot in the dust. Dodging raindrops when they come, or maybe not caring at all, finding moments to groove to the funky jam before feasting on samosas or wood-fired pizza. But for others, it would all be foreign. Or so I believe.

I felt a wind blowing across the concert field. Was it real or metaphorical? A brief rain washed away... Alright, stop.

Before I got too introspective, Yonder Mountain String Band brought me back to times gone by. The three core members that have held down the moniker as one of the originals of jamgrass are still there. But since the departure of Jeff Austin all those years ago, Yonder is clearly bluegrass first and jam second. But I can always hear the jam within them. They aren't singing bluegrass standards, instead opting for modern originals. The song structure straddles bluegrass and ballads, but the jam is always close by. Is it the air of humor in their playing and songwriting that keeps them at arm's length from their traditional bluegrass brethren? A philosophical question that slipped my mind when the next band took to the Echo Stage.

Full disclosure, I attended Northlands this year because The Slip was there. They were one of the first mid-level, at the time low-level, jambands I saw when I moved to Colorado in 1999, and I haven't looked back since. Neither have they, moving through several different sounds over their discography before landing on a sound that is uniquely theirs and woven through everything they ever did. Brad's hollow body and intense jazz chops can only be matched by his brother's aggressive dance-track-style drumming. But today, the call to the bullpen was answered, and Joe Russo did his best Andrew Barr imitation. Joe played the songs as if it was his brother who was playing lead, anticipating each change and ushering them in confidently and loudly, which is what The Slip has always shown with their nuevo-jazz-pop-jam. It felt scripted that Brad actually slipped on the stage in their first song, as if they were embodying their name, but he literally didn't miss a beat. I overheard someone in the front row mention that he'd been "seeing The Slip since Mark had hair." Flowing locks, baldness, or a wig like the one he chose to wear on that day are not the defining characteristics of Mark's bass playing; instead, he is defined by full tones that go beautifully with the staccato notes of Joe/Andrew and the full plucking on hollow bodies of Brad.

I'm just not that into Lotus. That's not to say they aren't good. On the contrary. I think Tim Palmieri is incredibly talented and has been since his Psychedelic Breakfast days. I'm just not that into trance jam. So I used this as a time to go visit with Steve, the festival noob. By this point in the weekend, he was sold, planning on coming back to Northlands or any festival that he could. So was he still a noob? Am I, because I just don't get all the music at a diverse festival like Northlands? What is different about being a jaded older fan and a blossoming new fan? Questions I continue to ponder.

As we watched Dogs in a Pile and thought these deep thoughts, it was encouraging to see the focus the fans had on the Dogs set, with very few vying for rail slots on the Mountain Stage in anticipation of JRAD. Dogs in a Pile is part of the sound revolution in the jamband scene, one of the bands taking the influence of Phish and carving out of it what they believe works for the crowd, recognizing the importance of syncopated structures entering into the jam as well as during their exits. And then, she was here. A voice, an attitude made for festivals. Kanika Moore sat in with Dogs in a Pile and immediately brought the house down, up, down, up, down, and to climax. Seriously, she is infectious.

This new class of mid-level jambands, including Dogs, Goose, Pigeons, some other animals, some foods — you can probably guess the roster — is satiating the jam-curious. But are their fans those that are just getting their feet wet with improvisation or those that simply aren't in the market for a 30-minute Tweezer anymore? And since I'm unable to understand the answer, is this another example of my noob-ness? Clearly, that term became a catch-all for me over the course of the festival.

Brownie | Northlands Music & Arts Festival

I ran into an old friend who had also quit smoking, and when I told her I didn't have a cigarette for her, she wandered off and I made my way to the headliner highlight of the weekend, Joe Russo's Almost Dead. From their first notes, it was clear that they were in charge of their own soundboard, pushing the volume far past what anyone had done all weekend. I watched a water bottle dance off the subwoofer 12 measures into the opener. Inside jokes were being shared on stage, and we were all the recipients of the punchline as each soloist laughed as he took his turn and pushed it even further than his predecessor. Which player can confuse his bandmates the most? No one. That's the joke.

JRAD plays the changes of the Dead's original compositions, obeying the time signatures and key for the most part. It's what they do in between that makes their take on the Grateful Dead's canon so unique, fresh, and unanticipated. This night, they were playfully dropping in so many teases, it was hard to notice them all. Tequila!

Those were my last notes for Saturday night. I surrendered to the music and danced, danced, danced. Yes, it was just a cover set, but saying it was just a cover set diminishes the creativity the band brings every time they breathe life into this music. The music had life when the Dead played it, but these guys are giving it a 21st-century life. JRAD was the bridge between what I'd been hearing the first two days and what our readers remember from days ago.

Sunday
I woke up, yet again, to townies revving their engines and honking their horns as they drove by the fairgrounds. Not sure if they were trying to wake us up or getting revenge because of the noise the festival was putting into the late-night air.

Since Kanika Moore had missed her scheduled set time the day before, she started Sunday with a set in Annie in the Water's original time slot. Her set embodied headliner energy despite being at noon. That's 6 a.m. festival time. The band started with a funky "Papa Was a Rolling Stone" jam that seemed to go on a bit longer than anticipated. I saw stagehands lean in to talk to the guitarist, who gestured backstage, suggesting that was where he thought Kanika was. Because on stage, she wasn't. The nervous smiles shared by her other bandmates told the story that this rising diva was on her own time and not the band's time. After the uncomfortable minute or two, here she comes. As expected, it was a cover-heavy set. The crowd was tired. Nobody was moving fast, but we moved as fast as we could for Kanika. Her Led Zeppelin cover was a standout for me, along with two Steely Dan tunes.

Friends from all over the country told me to check out Sqwerv, a young four-piece that's part of the Phish-inspired family tree. Fast compositions, changes, changes, and more changes bookended but syncopated. Stops. They made their cover of "Could You Be Loved" their own with a techno beat and organic sampling over the mics. A beautiful instrumental groove followed, preceding a "Tweezing/In the Name Of" with Andy Frasco sitting in. This was better than a 2 o'clock jolt of caffeine.

This Grateful Web reader can't help but understand why Saturday night's JRAD set was the culmination of the festival for me. But making that happen on a Saturday night just gave Sunday an icing-and-cherry type of feel. I've said it before and I'll say it again: festival lineup construction is an art.

Dizgo, on the Echo Stage, all clad in tie-dyes, waited for the stage setup to get finished. Then they waited some more. Finally, they started. Then they stopped and waited some more. After a weekend of seamless set transitions, a 20-minute delay sucked the air out of the festival grounds. I'll give Dizgo another try when they've got their shit dialed, since, when I went back to their set with just five minutes left, I still saw the universal symbol from the lead singer to give him more vocals in his monitor. Oh boy.

With the Jennifer Hartswick Band, you know what you're getting. It's exquisitely packaged, female-led funk and Motown. They played a loose, gritty cover of "Dazed and Confused," reminding me of the Led Zeppelin we've all seen in concert footage, not the well-produced studio version. Jennifer's set construction had the proper ups and downs, finishing with a Ray Charles duet sung with Kanika Moore and featuring Hartswick's female piano player. You go, ladies. Happy Father's Day.

When I heard a woman screaming at me to "shelter in place, or get to your cars if they are close by," I thought I was still dreaming from the quick afternoon nap I had taken, and needed desperately. So a few bands' sets got cut short, allowing Andy Frasco and The U.N. to bring manic energy out of the gates. Par for the course for Frasco. He had Kanika sit in, he humped the floor, he screamed at his band, the crowd, and his inner child, and he intentionally pissed off the Disco Biscuits by going a few minutes over his allotted time. Fuck it. Fuck it indeed, Andy.

The festival came to a close with two sets of Disco Biscuits. I hadn't seen them in two decades, and they picked up where they'd left off in '04, with their unique blend of EDM climax-building over actual instruments. Trance jam is the Biscuits, and they do it better than most. A Fleetwood Mac cover with Kanika and "Have a Cigar" were jolts from the expected pace of the set and brought the weekend to an end with positive vibes.

I wandered a bit during the final set on Sunday. At a festival, that is always a time with a mixture of activity. Some people were dancing as if they just arrived, but moved back a few rows, while others were packing their shit as if they had a train to catch. But Kevin was still working the VIP gate, still dancing and hi-fiving people he had memorized through the weekend. "You should check these guys out at the ADK fest," he said. "That's close to you." Not only does he remember my face, he remembers where I live. We met last year and haven't spoken since. Bob was still in the pit when the Biscuits played, where he'd been all weekend, overseeing the photographers with a strong but empathetic hand. I saw Buddha in the fairgrounds while wandering. I guess by the time the last band was playing, it was safe to abandon his post. However, Northlands does it right. They have strong and consistent production, great amenities, enough freedom for the people to get into trouble, and enough oversight that the trouble doesn't grow. It's the best jam band festival I have been to in years, and I can't wait to see who will be there next year. I know I will and can't wait to get a hi-five from Bob.