The groove is alive and kicking on "Departures," the first full-length album from Canadian instrumental group Apollo Suns. With an expected release date on Do Right! Music in late September, this 12-song compilation delivers soulful jazz-rock with influences stemming from funk, prog rock and psychedelia. Listening to Apollo Suns is revelatory – your feet will move, and your heart will follow.

Apollo Suns, hailing from Winnipeg, is currently on tour in the US and Canada in support of their upcoming album. They are sure to thrill audiences, especially fans of instrumental horn-heavy jam music, with renditions of their new material and older cuts from three previous EP releases, released as far back as 2017. The core group includes founder Ed Durocher (Guitar), Tim Iskierski (Drums), Erika Einarson (Percussion), Bryn Herperger (Bass), Garrett Malenko (Trumpet), Benjamin James Hill (Trombone), Aaron Bartel (Bari Sax) and Anatol Rennie (Keyboards/Synths).

On their new album, produced by Juno award-winning producer Ben Kaplan (Five Alarm Funk, Mother Mother, The Rare Americans), Apollo Suns swaggers and preens with an innovative plan that announces their imminent and inevitable arrival on bigger stages. A cohesive and self-assured effort, Departures has a lot to say, and says it well.

The first single from Departures, "Pluto," hit the airwaves in Spring this year. Like most of the cuts on the album, "Pluto" is built on melodies, beats and solos reminiscent of Snarky Puppy, Galactic's instrumental jams, and 70's funk (e.g., Average White Band's "Pick up the Pieces"). But Apollo Suns takes a fresh and ferocious approach to the genre. Regarding "Pluto," for instance, Durocher says that its namesake deity from Greek mythology " is a many-faced god who is capable of great kindness but also is temperamental. We wanted the song … to convey that feeling to listeners.”

Temperamental taken literally means "liable to unreasonable changes of mood." But there is nothing "unreasonable" about Apollo Suns' music. Indeed, in keeping with the album's title, each song is a departure not only from a designated starting point, but also from well-worn paths. Occasional rhythm shifts bring to mind well-coordinated leaps taken by Phish, Frank Zappa and King Crimson. Everything makes sense, even when it's unexpected.

The album's opening track "Through the Woods" exemplifies this well. An intro synthesizer effervesces in the background while the horns and percussion begin to fill the room with tentative fist-pumping punches and drum rolls. Then, as if celebrating an unexpected victory, the whole band kicks in with a triumphant march punctuated by uplifting guitar and sax solos. And before you know it, in the blink of an eye, it's over. The procession has passed, and we are filled with feelings of hope and achievement – and anticipation for whatever will come next.

Other experiences, always positive and inspirational, surface throughout the album. "Horses" begins with a moody guitar stroll before the music breaks into a trot and then a run, exploding into a full wind-in-your-hair gallop through alternating fields of trumpet and sax leads. In the end, the horses slow their pace, strutting with heads held high as the horns welcome them home. "Fonxy" is a N'Awlins-style brass outing that will fill a floor with smiles as well as dancing shoes. The album closer, "Beyond the Woods," is a restful tune, the only track on the album that doesn't spotlight the horns. A keyboard melody accented with mellow guitar leads and some background radio noise provides a suitable ambiance for reflection, for closing one's eyes and taking a few breaths in the pause before another glorious day arrives.

The essence of Departures is a confluence of hope and uncertainty, with promises fulfilled and risks rewarded. More than just dance music or idle musical chit-chat, this is a collection of stories that, despite a human voice, speak of the human experience – with a heavy emphasis on the rewards of joy and elation. In both jazz and rock ‘n’ roll, the absence of a human voice doesn't limit the ability to communicate; that function can be performed by a melody or a solo. (Certainly, fans of Jerry Garcia and John Coltrane can relate to the latter.) Apollo Suns, both as an ensemble and as soloists, say that our future is bright – and because they are very good at communicating this viewpoint, their future is equally bright.

For tour dates and more information, visit https://www.apollosuns.ca

Bluegrass may have its roots in Appalachia, but it has sown its seeds far and wide. Northern California in particular has been fertile ground for country pickin' for decades, with legends Peter Rowan and David Grisman among the many genre luminaries who have made their home among the Bay Area's redwoods. Fans of The Harmony Grits (from Santa Cruz) and Hot Buttered Rum (from San Francisco) know that bluegrass has long been alive and kickin' in these golden hills, and Silicon Valley's Molly Tuttle has garnered enough attention beyond bluegrass festivals in recent years to earn a Grammy nomination for Best New Artist.

AJ Lee and Blue Summit, with opening act Crying Uncle Bluegrass Band, brought the bluegrass spirit to Hopmonk Tavern in Novato, CA on Saturday, August 19. KC Turner Presents has hosted a stellar lineup for this year's 10th Annual Cookout Concert Series at Hopmonk Novato (with a few more events still to come), and this show was no exception.

The venue for this concert series is a fenced in restaurant "backyard" in the midst of a mall parking lot. (Hopmonk also has an indoor club venue for ticketed events as well as a full service bar and restaurant.) Audiences show up early to grab a spot at one of a few dozen shaded picnic tables situated "house left," or to throw a few low-backed lawn chairs on the small hillside at "house right." The stage is between those two seating areas, with a broad dance floor stretching back to bar and BBQ stations. Throughout the show, Hopmonk serves up tasty BBQ and brews a variety of worthy beers.

AJ Lee and Blue Summit (AJ Lee on mandolin, guitar and lead vocals; Scott Gates and Sullivan Tuttle on guitars; Larry Cook on bass; and Jan Purat on fiddle) are not strictly bluegrass, but they lean heavily in that direction. Some songs by this Santa Cruz quintet inhabit a broader Americana landscape. They write and play soulful tunes as well as dawg-inspired jammy butt-kickers. They have fun and they raise the roof. 

Several cover songs in the set were crowd pleasers, including two Dylan songs ("Meet Me in the Morning" and "From a Buick 6"), as well as a spirited version of the Everly Brothers' "Poor Jenny" followed by a soulfully crooned "I'm a Believer." But it was the originals that provided the backbone for the set, mostly cuts from their sophomore outing I'll Come Back and also a number of new songs they recently recorded for a forthcoming album due in 2024.

Of the latter, "Sick on a Plane" was a memorable biographic number, funny and poignant. "This is a goofy song I wrote well before the pandemic," said Lee. "But this seems an appropriate time to play it now that we've been through all that."

Most bands are lucky to have one wicked good guitar picker. Blue Summit has two, and both are good singers to boot. Sullivan Tuttle (yes, he's Molly's brother, and yes he is as brilliant as she is) showcased his bluegrass baritone on another new song, "Seaside Town." Scott Gates took a star turn on "Mountain Heartache" and "The Man Who Dies With the Most Toys Wins."

And because this is bluegrass, everybody in the band got to showcase their pickin' and grinnin' skills in almost every song.

AJ Lee and Blue Summit shine on bluegrass shredders like their barnstorming "Faithful," but Lee's voice can also touch – and break – hearts with songs like the show opener "Something Special." Holding her notes in a manner reminiscent of Alison Krauss (perhaps a half octave lower), Lee commands attention with her personality as well as her melodies.

"It's good to be back near home," Lee told the crowd at one point. "We travel all around, and when we say we play bluegrass, people say, 'Oh I’m from Kentucky.' But we’ve got our own kind of bluegrass here on the west coast."

Hopmonk's live music promoter KC Turner deserves a shoutout for his enthusiastic cheerleading, jumping on stage at the end of the set to encourage a roof-raising encore demand from the sold-out crowd. Lee and company obliged with three more songs.

To end the show, Lee sang "Someone Please," a sweet, plaintive tune she wrote in high school. “This is so vulnerable,” she said, standing alone on the stage. (The band had exited to let her perform this song solo.) But she needn't have fretted; the audience was enraptured by her crystal clear vocals. You could hear a pin (or a rib bone?) drop in the crowd where I was standing by the picnic tables as she poured her heart out through her vocal chords to end the night.

Earlier, the show was opened by Crying Uncle Bluegrass Band (brothers Miles and Teo Quale on fiddle and mandolin, respectively, with Andrew Osborn on bass and Ian Ly on guitar). The quartet are Bay Area Gen Z'ers with old bluegrass souls. For Osborn, this show was something of a homecoming; he grew up in nearby San Rafael and went to high school in Novato. 

The Quale brothers hail from across the Bay in Alameda, and they've been playing instruments since they were each three years old. (I can't help but think of a lyric from John Sebastian's "Nashville Cats": Been playin' since they's babies.)  Between the two of them, they've racked up a string of well-earned state and national pickin' and fiddlin' awards. They also perform as a duo from time to time.

The Hopmonk show was guitarist Li's first appearance with Crying Uncle Bluegrass, but there was no greenhorn in his bluegrass. His harmonies melded well on Crying Uncle's original tunes as well as classic covers, and his rhythm and lead picking bodes well for the band.

Dressed in Gand Ol' Opry style vests and ties, Crying Uncle huddled around their lone large-diaphragm condenser mic to deliver a tight set of timeless, high lonesome sounds. By the time they finished their set with Neil Young's "Old Man" – an apt choice for these bright and budding stars – the crowd was eating it up as hungrily as they were the BBQ ribs.

Perhaps nobody noticed that there wasn't a single banjo in sight the entire night. Bluegrass isn't all about banjos and it isn't all about Kentucky either. NorCal can take pride in the plethora of talent under the stars in Novato last Saturday.

Jamaica's Marley family has produced no shortage of history, hits, homages, and musical heroes. On his fifth solo album, seven years since his last one, Stephen Marley pays tribute to his storied and successful family – and to a life of inspiration and influences ranging from Frank Sinatra to the Beatles to (no surprise here) his father, Bob Marley.

"Old Soul" will be released by Tuff Gong Collective/UMe/Ghetto Youths International on September 15, 2023.

The headlines for the album will tout the collaborations, including contributions from Bob Weir, Eric Clapton, Buju Banton, San Diego reggae band Slightly Stoopid, and Stephen's brothers Damian "Jr. Gong" and Ziggy. Likewise, covers such as "I Shot the Sheriff" and "Don't Bring Me Down" will attract some media attention and generate a ton of Spotify clicks. But make no mistake, the focus of this album is Stephen Marley. The 51-year-old Grammy winner's voice is the star here, not the headline guests and choice of cover tunes.

Most of the album was recorded in a converted garage on a family farm in Florida.  Some tracks in particular, notably "Old Soul" and the opening track "Don't You Believe," have a stripped-down, live-in-your-living room instrumental feel. The ensemble on these cuts is predominantly acoustic (acoustic guitar, bass, flute, saxophone, trumpet, and nyabinghi drums), giving warmth and intimacy to familiar classics and unfamiliar tunes.

For the record, this isn't a reggae album, though certainly reggae is among its strongest influences. It's an amalgamation of seductive Caribbean and African melodies driven by hand-played drums and accented with woodwinds, trumpet, and piano. "Thanks We Get (Do Fi Dem)," featuring Buju Banton (a Junior Byles classic written by Lee “Scratch” Perry), rolls on waves that flow somewhere between Toots and the Maytals and Jimmy Buffett. Stephen's version of the Beatles' "Don't Let Me Down" also has a decidedly island feel, borrowing a smidgeon of Hawaiian breeze in the acoustic guitar riffs between each vocal phrase. "Winding Roads," with Jack Johnson sitting in and Bob Weir & Wolf Bros as the backing band, is a float-along piece of Americana that sounds like something Jerry Garcia might have crooned in his latter-day "Black Muddy River" phase.

Stephen's mature voice is at times warm, strong, confident, tender, and authentic. On "Cool As The Breeze" for instance, he delivers a silky-smooth ode. It's a good guess that this song is dedicated to his father, but it could just as easily be a love song. In the end, he slips into a falsetto for the closing refrain, a bit wrinkled by refreshing, raw emotion.

"This Time" showcases Stephen's vocal maturity. He doesn't hide his age in lyrics that reflect a middle-aged man's wisdom, such as: "For I'm like a little child, I live with love and not with style." It's a cool and sexy love song tempered by patience but full of passion.

"Georgia On My Mind" combines all these elements well – the intimacy, the melding of genres, a sweet voice retelling familiar stories on the front porch of an island family's home. This version kicks off with piano, a N'awlins trumpet throws a few soft air punches, and then Stephen steps up to the front of the stage with his rendition of the Ray Charles classic (written by Hoagy Carmichael and Stuart Gorrell). It isn't a jaw-dropping interpretation, but it has a comforting, old-pair-of-jeans vibe. Stephen lets the trumpet knock out a few mellow bars – it's one of the longest instrumental breaks on the album – before a Bourbon Street coda.

Stephen even tries his hand at jazz with "These Foolish Things (Reminds Me Of You)," a standard recorded by luminaries including Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong, Billie Holiday, Nat King Cole, and Bing Crosby. The version here adds a jumpy island rhythm and rolls at a faster clip than pretty much every other version ever. It's not easy to reconcile the pep with the sadness of the lyrics ("Oh, how the ghost of you clings"). But it is fun and jaunty, and the muted trumpet keeps it from getting downright exultant. Stephen is hanging his hat on the glass-half-full part of the lyric, "Those little things remain that bring me happiness or pain." His heart has wings, where most interpretations have wallowed in profound loss.

"I Shot the Sherrif," a meaningful revisitation to Bob Marley's poignant 1973 protest song, will probably get the most clicks of any track on this album. In the wake of the Black Lives Matter movement and other global struggles for racial justice, Stephen's version of this classic (originally released just a year after his own birth) marks the slow pace of social change over the past five decades. Eric Clapton plays guitar on the new cut, and his licks provide a strong current that drives the flow of the song and keeps it fresh. But it's Marley's take on the lyrics, paced more slowly than both the elder Marley's original and Clapton's famous cover version, that provides gravitas and commands attention. At 51, his voice is even more gravelly, more world-weary than Bob's voice was at 28. It's like he's channeling the old man Bob might have become: Man, is this bullshit still going on?!

"Old Soul," the first track released from the album (earlier this summer), is both a biographical journey and an expression of Stephen's familial spirituality. The song was written originally by Jamaican artist Omi, but Stephen has retooled the lyrics to make it his own. Memories of his father, and a bonus Peter Tosh name-drop, precede stanzas about Stephen's own life journey. He resolves that journey with a declaration of his Rastafarian belief in reincarnation and a deep connection to his ancestry. “I’m an old soul, living in the body of a 9-year-old,” he sings. (He was nine when his father died.) "Inside me, your legacy lives on."

This track might have even more impact if Stephen's voice was engineered with the same living-room ambiance found on most of the other songs on the album. It's a minor nit to pick, but the studio-tinkered feel on "Old Soul" distracts from the honesty and tenderness revealed elsewhere on the album that carries its name.

The video for "Old Soul" intersperses still pictures of Stephen, his father Bob, and other family members with a caption at the end dedicating the song to his own son. Quite the dynasty they've got going on here! The Marley name lives on in many voices, and Stephen's is worth listening to.

Pre-order the new album HERE.

NorCal bluegrass jammers Hot Buttered Rum (HBR) and members of San Francisco’s ALO headlined their annual family-oriented fest in the Mendocino County redwoods last weekend. They were joined by Eddie Roberts and his Meters-inspired funk, SoCal reggae roots quintet Arise Roots, jamband up-and-comers Eggy, and a variety of other acoustic and electric stylists that meshed into a seamless musical milieu.

Camp Navarro, a multi-use forest campsite replete with stereotypical camp cabins, tent areas, RV parking, a bonfire pit, and a lodge, had 24 hours to transition from last week’s cryptocurrency firm's offsite gathering to become the host for this annual festival. Practically overnight, a jam fest grew in the redwoods.

Camp Deep End (CDE), now in its seventh year, was the brainchild of Camp Navarro owner Dan Braun. Like many beautiful things, CDE was born out of adversity. Following a few difficulties for Camp Navaro under different management, Braun took over the operation of the camp eight years ago. The first CDE, Braun says, "was a party because of all the fucking work I had done to save this place. I wanted to throw a party for the property and for myself."

Braun roped in two of his favorite bands right away, calling on ALO (with lots of high-level support from the band's manager Jenna Lebowitz) and HBR, whom Braun had managed for a number of years previously. Nat Keefe of HBR recalls that the inspiration he, Lebowitz, and Braun drew upon was to create "a tradition that we would raise our children in, where we could have PG days and R-rated nights." He added, "We wanted a place to have our bands do our things with their nearest and dearest and the next circle out of our nearest and dearest. And we didn't want it to be a Bonnaroo."

With only slightly north of 400 tickets available each year, CDE is no Bonnaroo! CDE is an intimate, family affair. Musicians camp out and wander the grounds in awe of the redwoods just like everyone else, and children cavort and frolic safely and freely.

The festival name, “Camp Deep End,” is derived from “Boontling” lingo, a dialect of jargon from nearby Boonville that dates back to the 1890s (Google it). "Deepend" was the nickname given to the western end of the Anderson Valley, an area that Braun says was known in days of yore as the abode of "the freaks" who were ostracized throughout the rest of the valley True to form (and not unlike a million other jamband festivals), many Deep Enders wear freaky stuff, like glittery face paint and fuzzy rave jackets – and there is a plethora of “Loveguard” pins made by a CDE lifer. Saturday evening was aglow with pink to celebrate "Ken and Barbie Night."

It's freaky, but it's also about family. As I write this on Sunday morning at CDE, seven or eight kids aged perhaps three to six are eating breakfast together on a redwood bench near the lodge. I’m sure their parents are nearby, but nobody feels like they need to hover over their children here; it’s an incredibly safe space built for children to enjoy themselves as much as adults. Kids partake in arts and crafts sessions, line up for a climbing wall, and snarf down s’mores around the bonfire. Some tots and teens dance in the front row during musical sets. Others probably don't even realize there is a music fest happening at their mid-September summer camp.

But of course, there is music. Braun books a wide variety each year, not just bluegrass and jam. "It's my job to find amazing artists who will appreciate the setting. You can't fit a circle into a square. They have to get this."

ALO and HBR always provide anchor performances at CDE. Typically, one or the other band will close the main stage on Friday and Saturday. This year, ALO sent three members to camp. (Dan “Lebo” Lebowitz on guitar, Steve Adams on bass, and Ezra Lipp on drums. Keyboard player and singer Zach Gill was caravanning around the world with some guy named Jack Johnson – perhaps you’ve heard of him?) Trevor Garrod on keys and vocals (Tea Leaf Green) and Vicki Randle on percussion and vocals (The Tonight Show, Aretha Franklin, Mavis Staples, etc.), joined the ALO threesome for a Friday night set that gave everyone on stage a chance to share a few of their own songs.

Lebo also jumped on stage with, well, almost everyone at one point or another.

HBR was also everywhere, including two main stage sets over two days and yet another set in the small redwood-ringed amphitheater. Their six-man ensemble often grew, with guest appearances by Lebo, Roberts, and several young pickers from Broken Compass Bluegrass and Sicard Hollow.

For many attendees, the standout performance during HBR's sets this weekend was when Maysa Jane Carper, the 12-year-old daughter of CDE alum Bo Carper (New Monsoon, Fog City Ramblers) joined her musical uncles for a song. A star was born in the amphitheater on Sunday afternoon as Carper gazed to the heavens to sing Chris Stapleton's "Tennessee Whiskey."

For his late-night set in the lodge on Friday, Eddie Roberts (The New Mastersounds) was joined by Adryon de León on vocals (Orgone), Chris Spies on keys (Honey Island Swamp Band), and the rhythm section from The Greyboy Allstars (Zak Najor on drums and Chris Stillwell on bass). de León killed it on the Rufus with Chaka Khan hit "You Got the Love." Roberts and Spies gave a master class in funk leads.

Roberts' Saturday daytime main stage set was sans singer de León, but Roberts came to the mic for the Isely Brothers classic "Who's That Lady" to close the set. Prior to that, Roberts and Lebo traded licks “Guitarmagedden style” while Najor and Stillwell laid down the heavy beats that have made them de facto demigods on the funk and jam circuit.

Broken Compass Bluegrass (Kyle Ledson on mandolin and guitar, Django Ruckrich on guitar and mandolin, Mei Lin Heirendt on fiddle, and Sam Jacobs on bass; everyone sings) is a CDE favorite. Ledson has attended and played at every CDE, starting when he was thirteen. "[CDE] is so chill. I feel like this is rejuvenating. A lot of festivals, I get a little tired afterward, as great as they are, but this one, I feel energized. The redwoods are the best part!"

Together and also in ones and twos, Broken Compass was everywhere at CDE, from an evening amphitheater set to bonfire jams to guest appearances with pretty much everyone else all weekend long. They added a drummer, Aidan Steckley, for their main stage set on Saturday afternoon – his second (and if success is a measure, not his last!) appearance with Broken Compass.

This young collaboration is among a slew of California string band upstarts, along with Molly Tuttle, AJ Lee and Blue Summit, Crying Uncle, and many others, who have created a new epicenter of bluegrass in Northern California. Sicard Hollow guitar player Alex King praised the Broken Compass string players when he told the campfire jam crowd one night, “Seriously, we even live in Nashville, and we don’t have pickers like these guys where we live!”

Sicard Hollow (King on guitar and vocals, Will Herrin on mandolin and vocals, Matt Rennick on fiddle, and Parrish Gabriel on bass) are no slouches either. With punk-rocky, often frenetic bluegrass (see “Turtles, Trampled By,” and then add a heavy dash of early Meat Puppets), their own high-energy sets in the amphitheater and on the main stage made many new fans for these young Tennesseans. Like Broken Compass, the Sicard Hollow pickers made frequent guest appearances with many other acts throughout CDE.

Arise Roots made their first CDE appearance on Saturday night in the amphitheater. Their conscious roots reggae was a hit with the crowd. At the request of Braun, their evening set was a semi-acoustic affair. “We don’t usually play acoustic,” said Karim Israel. Under redwoods lit with soft stage lights, it felt like they’d been doing this their whole lives. Arise Roots also played a full electric set on Sunday afternoon, closing with legendary roots band Black Uhuru's “Sinsemilla.” Israel felt the warmth of the redwoods and the love of the CDE family, and he told the audience, " I feel like this place has got into me now. I gotta come back!"

Making its first appearance at CDE (and really, only its second appearance ever, aside from a few smaller, dry runs) Patrick Ball's "Field of Flowers" art-and-sound installation blossomed in a field adjacent to the main stage. Ball described the installation this way: "Our software tells the flowers, 'Make a pretty sequence of colors!' We create a wave of color that washes across the field, and we coordinate it with sound. The lights and sound move around the field in a way that creates a sense that things are blowing or sloshing around you."

Nat Keefe of HBR, who composed and recorded sound suites for the project, DJ’ed a “live” set, accompanied by Ball on "Flowers," late Saturday night. Bizarre and sort of ominous Oohs and Ahhs emanated sporadically from the talking flowers, and also from the campers wandering through the field.

Eggy made waves too. The Connecticut jammers (Alex Bailey on drums and vocals, Jake Brownstein on guitar and vocals, Mike Goodman on bass and vocals, and Dani Battat on keys and vocals) added some Grateful Dead and CSNY songs and snatches to their setlist, but their originals shine even brighter. Brownstein and Battat soloed tastefully in both their late-night lodge set and main stage appearances, with long jams building from melodic riffs to well-crafted jamband frenzy. As one of this year's jamband "flavors of the month," Eggy showed promise of a long festival career to come.

Philly's Little Stranger brought the smoke-filled house down in the lodge during their late-night set. The light-hearted hip-hop duo's rendition of Sicard Hollow and their own “Coffee and a Joint” was a highlight. This song might be part of the “R-rated” CDE experience Keefe was talking about, but at least one tot was swaying in her mother’s arms while the crowd sang along with the anthemic refrain. Little Stranger also covered Gorillaz' 2001 hit "Clint Eastwood" (with a sample of the chorus from Beck’s “Loser” in the middle) for a Gen X singalong.

Samuel J, from Cornwall, England, brought a serious love-fest'y new-age vibe, but he also got the crowd laughing and singing along to his soulful originals. He once asked for a volunteer camper with gym class experience to lead the seated audience in a mid-set stretch session. But a young purple unicorn named Hana (I think she’s four or five?) stole the show, dancing solo in front of the amphitheater stage for the entire set. In conversation, Samuel J praised CDE: "I've been overwhelmed by the whole vibe of this, all the people here and how loving everyone is."

Mikaela Davis brought her harp and a four-man band to deliver her own brand of folk-inspired rock. Her Sunday set of Grateful Dead covers in particular was a crowd-pleaser. The familiar tunes were given new life by the ethereal addition of Davis's harp and her softly strong vocals.

Last year, at CDE, Jessica Malone and Ruby Jaye joined Hattie Craven and her band for some stage sets and campfire singalongs. This year, Malone got to take center stage with her fun and fiery songs. (Keep an eye out for her next album, which is being produced by HBR's Keefe. Release date TBD.) Malone and crew rocked the redwood grove "house," and their harmonies reverberated pleasantly throughout the woods.

Marin County's Marshall House Project (Sam Hamby on guitar and vocals, Matty Tucker on drums, and Jason Thor on bass) has many fans among the CDE family. Their psychedelic guitar-driven jams and bass-fueled beats kept everyone on their feet dancing.

Musical acts weren’t the only attractions at CDE – this IS camp, after all! Some campers hiked trails or headed off to shoot arrows at the archery corral. Jenga tables, hula hoops, and cornhole sets fill a meadow near the art barn where kids make crafts all day. Janna Barkin and Lisa Rueff led yoga sessions on the weekend mornings. “Tree pose” perhaps is never so meaningful as it is when practiced beneath towering trees!

Dr. Leah Taylor has hosted her Embodied Groove experience at six of the seven CDEs. Embodied Groove sessions combine dance, movement, intention, and a live music experience. She describes the experience this way: "Embodied Groove helps people get out of their heads and into their bodies, feeling joy and flow and pleasure in big and little ways." At this year's CDE, she was backed by a band that included members of ALO, Broken Compass Bluegrass, and Tea Leaf Green.

And then there’s the annual Commisioner’s Ramble, a plugged-in jam session organized each year by longtime CDE denizens Alan Bush and Ted Pelletier. Bush led this year’s volunteer musician ensemble in Willie Nelson’s “Roll Me Up and Smoke Me When I Die.” Over a dozen other singers and players got to show their stuff too. (Yours truly got to sing his version of “Nobody Knows You When You're Down and Out.”) But perhaps the most poignant Deep End moment was 14-year-old Sonora Gelbard’s solo cover of Big Thief’s "Change." Her father Jonathan is CDE’s main stage host, and not unlike Broken Compass’s Kyle Letson, Sonora has grown up with CDE in her blood.

Going to camp is an archetypal part of childhood for so many of us, and we keep those memories with us as we grow. CDE is only one weekend each year, but it’s jam-packed with art, activities, and music – and lifelong memories! Adults and kids come back year after year to see old friends, meet new friends, and thrill to familiar and unfamiliar sounds and sights. “Family” means a lot at CDE.

Near the end of HBR’s Saturday set, Lebo added his deepest baritone vocals on the refrain of “Down in the Deep End,” a CDE anthem he and HBR frontman Erik Yates wrote on-site two years ago. Everyone in the camp agreed; we were all way down in the deep end, and the fun meter for all ages was set to “stoked!”

"My dad moved on and so did I, inside I kept his songs alive – so they say."
- Stephen Marley, "Old Soul"

Stephen Marley's autumn tour is a stripped-down roots reggae affair, a mostly acoustic performance in support of his new album "Old Soul." He appeared at the legendary Fillmore Auditorium in San Francisco on Thursday, September 21, with opening act Eli Mac.

Marley's Old Soul album was recorded with a low-key "living room" ensemble, and the touring band brings that intimacy to the stage with acoustic guitars, bass, flute, electric piano, and nyabinghi drums. Arrayed in front of a golden lion on a stage flanked by posters of Bob Marley and Halie Selassie, the band remained seated for the entire show. Marley himself, dressed in a brown coat and a long scarf (everyone knows San Francisco is much colder than Jamaica!) only stood up for the last song. For most of the show, he remained seated in front of a single drum, adding soft rhythms to the music and occasionally picking up an acoustic guitar

The set list at the Fillmore included several of Marley's new songs, including the album's title song as well as "Cast the First Stone" and a Lee Scratch Perry cover, "Thanks We Get (Do Fi Dem)." Older cuts from Stephen Marley's catalog were given a new spin in the soft-touch setting with prominent flute solos and acoustic guitar riffs – including a lively version of "The Mission," a spirited political anthem originally recorded over a decade ago with Stephen's brother Damian "Jr.Gong."

The audience was clearly hungry more than anything for cover versions of songs made famous by Stephen's father, Bob Marley. The second son of the reggae great fed that hunger. Stephen's soulful cover of "I Shot the Sherrif," recorded with Eric Clapton on lead guitar for the new album, was poignant and warmly received. But the crowd really ate up "Three Little Birds" and "Could You Be Loved," singing along and holding cell phones high to record videos for Facebook.

It is a cliché to mention the plumes of smoke at reggae shows, and the Fillmore has certainly earned its reputation for copious partaking. Oddly, however, while there was certainly pot in the air, it may be a reflection of the times (and the wide availability of edibles) to point out that the stage never disappeared behind a veil of fumes.

Eli Mac opened the show with her own sparse ensemble, just a guitar player and drummer. The one-time "American Idol" contestant (who has had songs produced by Stephen Marley during her career) delivered a set of comfort-food roots reggae that meshed well with Marley's performance. She sang that she was – and clearly, she is – "a roots girl." Her own roots include ancestors from Ireland, Spain, and The Philippines. But with a member of the illustrious Marley dynasty in the house, everyone gets to sing along to reggae beats and celebrate the legacy of Bob Marley.

The Wreckless Strangers describe their sound as a blend of blues, R&B, Americana, and good old-fashioned rock ‘n’ roll. On Orange Sky Dream, the sextet's latest EP, that blend is heavily laced with late-70's / early-80's FM radio rock. The EP's six songs on this release evoke an era of cassette tapes and Cameros, and a generation of older Americans still shy of Social Security eligibility are going to feel like they're listening to songs they might have sung along to in high school.  

The new release was produced by Grammy winner Dave Way (Whitney Houston, Aretha Franklin, Tracy Chapman, Stevie Wonder, Sheryl Crow). His collaboration with the Wreckless Strangers is both a nostalgic excursion and a cautionary travelogue that traverses the many roads interlacing good times and bad times.

Orange Sky Dream will be available on September 29.

You're in Bad Company when you hang out with the Wreckless Strangers. The Bay Area band started as a pickup jam session in 2016, and they've since released three albums and performed extensively. The ensemble's esteemed and experienced members include Amber Morris (a premier Bay Area vocalist and voice coach whose clients have included members of Journey and the Eric Martin Band) on vocals; David Noble (Poor Man's Whiskey, Pardon The Interruption) on lead guitar, vocals; Joshua Zucker (The Jones Gang, Rowan Brothers) on bass; Austin de Lone (Nick Lowe, Elvis Costello, The Fabulous Thunderbirds) on keys, vocals; Mick Hellman (The Go To Hell Man Band) on drums, vocals; and Rob Anderson (repeat world champion cyclist) on guitar. (Timely side note: Mick Hellman's late father Warren founded San Francisco's annual Hardly Strictly Bluegrass festival, which debuted in 2001 and continues over three days this weekend.)

Orange Sky Dream will take you on a Journey, starting from the opening power chords of "Break the Line," the EP's first cut. Guitars drive the riff for a few bars, but then the vocal lead takes the wheel, gliding over a massive rock organ progression. The song conjures a landscape somewhere out on the American highway system, a fast breeze blowing by, and tunes cranked up on a quad stereo.

Of course, you gotta have Heart when you take a trip to the late 70s. Morris's ballad "Roses of War" slows down the EP's pace a bit for a melancholy relationship song. "Will there ever be an end to the fight going on?" There may be hope yet, but the road is uncertain.

One thing is clear by this point: Toto, we're not in Kansas anymore. "Shudda Known" is a riff-heavy head banger with a hint of something ...political? Angry? The lyrics preach generically, for instance: "Signs tried to give us a warning back in 1988"; and "You can't fight back if you can't take the heat." But while the messaging is somewhat directionless, maybe that's the point. This isn't a business trip! A flash-bang guitar solo seals the deal and confirms the Strangers are taking an oratory detour on the highway to hell just for rock n' roll kicks.

The Devil Goes Down to Georgia on "Fast Girls." This "Hot Rod Lincoln"-esque rockabilly pedal-stomper starts out with tires squealing, and de Lone keeps the rubber burning with a few tasty turns of frolicsome electric piano in the middle. Even so, Morris's vocals admit that "You can't catch up, you know how fast girls are." Until the end that is, when a rip-snorting guitar solo brings the song to a quick burst of nitrous-fueled energy to take it over the finish line victoriously.   

Imagine a fleet of polished-chrome Fabulous Thunderbirds cruising the nation's backroads. The Strangers may call themselves "Wreckless,' but their songs are well-tuned, dent-free specimens that harken back to the pre-SUV era.  In this vein, De Lone takes a vocal lead on "Grace of God," gliding across Texas blues country with effortless aplomb. It's a bit of a sermon, with lyrics like, "Could be a long way up, could be a long way down." The press release for this song says it "provokes introspection and encourages listeners to be grateful for what they have and empathize with the factors that shape the lives of others." Maybe so, but this song could also sell beer on TV – it's a well-brewed country rocker guaranteed to inspire the sudden appearance of air guitars and skankfaces in any flyover country barroom.   

Like Eagles coming home to roost, the Wreckless Strangers bring this EP full circle on the closer, "You're All I Need." Someone tunes a radio dial past FM radio static and a snatch of the Emergency Broadcast System before landing at the beginning of the track, with Morris singing plaintively from the get-go. She makes an urgent power-ballad request for the eponymous "You" to "take me back to the beginning." Morris leads a chorus of her cohorts all the way to the end, emphasizing that indeed, "You're all I need!"

And then, six songs after they started, with the tank exhausted and the engine still hot, the Wreckless Strangers' latest journey comes to a powerful close. It's been a fun ride, and a reminder that it's the people in our lives who matter, who share our fondest memories of those crazy nights driving fast while even going nowhere on the outskirts of town. 

I just returned from a Musical Sojourn in Porto, Portugal, a weeklong musical experience featuring ALO’s Dan “Lebo” Lebowitz, Natalie Cressman and Jennifer Hartswick (Trey Anastasio Band and multiple other projects), Nikki Bluhm, members of Greensky Bluegrass, Fruition and Railroad Earth, and many other artists from the extended jam and bluegrass world. This was a unique and intimate event with six days and nights of musical tourism in one of Europe’s most beautiful cities. (The entire musician list is at the end of this article.)

The Musical Sojourn in Porto was produced by Matt Butler (Jambay, Everyone Orchestra). “We’re trying to facilitate a musical community with a living room feel,” he told me a few weeks before the journey began.“ This event is all backstage.”

All the attendees and musicians stayed in two hotels in Porto, with Hotel Mouco serving as home base and also as the venue for some of the events. (The hotel has a performance hall that rivals many small clubs for acoustics and ambiance.) Other performances were held at charming local venues. Musicians from Portugal were also featured throughout the week, including jazz, a cappella, and Portuguese traditional Fado music artists. Performers and guests mingled and soaked up the local atmosphere, making new friends across the Atlantic.

Matt Butler founded Everyone Orchestra (EO) in 2001. EO is an ongoing improvisational musical project that features a constantly revolving roster of musicians. Butler typically brings together instrumentalists from the jam, bluegrass and improv scene, many of whom have never played together. He then “conducts” live, unique experiences via musical cues, often written extemporaneously on a handheld whiteboard (or two, or three). Those cues might be as simple and open to interpretation as “Dots” or “Unison.” Often the audience is asked to chime in with a “Yes!” or a “Hey!”

In many ways, the Sojourn is an expanded EO experience. Butler told me he hoped the event would “facilitate a unique connection with the musicians. They’re all beloved EO people. I’m excited to provide a super meaningful experience.”

And now, on with the show.

DAY 1
Monday, October 9

We were greeted with laminated lanyard passes and wine tasting at the hotel, followed by a sumptuous buffet dinner in the hotel bar and courtyard.

ACT I

Our first musical treat was a local band, Retimbrar. Driven by Portuguese percussion and rhythms, the eight-piece ensemble got the crowd moving with their interpretations of traditional songs and original tunes. We danced in spiraling circles to “Vai de Centro ao Centro,” a traditional Portuguese folk song. Another audience participation number, a traditional line dance sort of thing, was more like a drunken wedding reception line dance (and became more so each time the band sped up the pace) -- which may or may not have been the point.

After a short break, The Eights (Lebo, Scott Law, Ross James, Holly Bowling, Matt Butler, and Nikki Bluhm) delivered an ass-kicking set of jammy rock and blues. I asked Lebo why they called this band “The Eights” when there were only six people on stage, and he hinted that it was a secret. Holly Bowling made a lip-zipping motion when I asked her about it. (I sorta know the answer now, but I’ll keep quiet.)

The sextet hit the ground running with covers of “Get it While You Can” and “Tore Up Over You.” Next, Bluhm tore up her own vocals on her hit “Little Too Late.” Later in the set, Mimi Naja added some vocals. Natalie Cressman and Jennifer Hartswick also jumped onstage with their trombone and trumpet in hand, joined by Los Lobos’s Steve Berlin on baritone sax to add an arsenal of horns. (Berlin was a late addition after the untimely death last month of James Casey.)

The clock was running late after an extended “Don’t Let Go” (with “Dark Star” interlude), so The Eights wrapped it up quick to make room for an all-too-short Everyone Orchestra set. This version of EO featured everyone from the Eights’ set, and Kellen Asebroek played as well. Drummer Tikyra Jackson (Southern Avenue) joined on the skins so Butler could move up front. He led the fray in his trademark conductor’s jacket, of course. Two extended improv pieces gave everyone a chance to shine.

DAY 2
Tuesday, October 10

ACT I

It’s been unusually warm and wonderful weather for a Porto October.  A mild breeze helped to cool the sunshine for a morning “Bom Dia Musica” session in the Hotel Mouco courtyard with Scott Law, Tikyra Jackson, Kellen Asebroek, and Ross James.

Asebroek kicked it off with a few solo acoustic tunes. Then he brought out the others. “We didn’t work up a set list for this morning. We’ll just see where the spirit guides us. That usually works out.”

After drumming for a few of Aesbroek’s songs, Jackson put down her sticks to pick up an acoustic guitar and we got to hear her as-yet unreleased song “Sweet Child.” She told us, “This is my first time meeting a lot of these musicians and I feel like I know them already.”

Matt Butler was happy. “To see a performance like this just evolve over 18 hours is a real treat. it’s all an experiment, but so far, the experiment is working out.”

ACT II

The Tribunal da Relãçao do Porto is the federal courthouse in downtown Porto. It’s a stately building on a hill above the main tourist area. We were advised to leave any “contraband” at home.

The venue for the afternoon “Songwriters on Trial” session was a voluminous courtroom with 40-foot-tall windows and murals of Portuguese history (kings, courtiers, that sort of thing.) One of the people on Butler’s team said his great grandfather had painted the mural! An appellate court judge introduced the event.

Several songwriters took a turn on the witness stand. The other musicians sat behind each performer in a semicircle of high-backed red leather chairs like an agreeable and attentive Portuguese politburo.

Nikki Bluhm was the first to testify, with Scott Law backing her on a Telecaster guitar. She sang one cover, Sippie Wallace’s “Women Be Wise,” and also a new breakup tune of her own,

“Leaving Me.” She said she was nervous in the great hall of justice, but her voice rang true. Jay Cobb Anderson and Megan Letts followed.

Other witnesses, I mean performers, included Jennifer Hartswick, Natalie Cressman and Ian Faquini. Hartswick teased the crowd regarding their complicity: “I feel like you’re all in your best behavior now. But I saw you last night!” She sang the aptly titled “Innocent,” a thank you to the lands that she grew up on. “I see you winking in the trees, watching over me and mine.”

Fiancés Cressman and Faquini said it was the first time they’d ever played as a duo standing up. (Then someone got Faquini a chair.) They sang a sweet song about the time they met followed by the first song they ever wrote together, a soulful jazz number “Setting Rays Days of Summer.”

All were found guilty … of talent and creativity!

ACT III

In the evening, we gathered at Ateneu Comercial do Porto, a theater built by a private cultural association in 1885. Tall mirrors lined the walls of the ornate performance hall.   

Bernardo Couto played a set of traditional Portuguese fado music on guitarra portuguesa. His virtuosity and skill were enhanced by Holly Bowling’s accompaniment on grand piano for two pieces that resonated with transcendent sublimity.

The Fruition Trio came next. Jay Cobb Anderson, Kellen Asebroek, and Mimi Naja played a number of new songs and fan favorites. Regarding the new stuff, Naja wryly said, “It’s an intimacy experiment, who doesn’t like those?” Later in the set they were joined by Greensky Bluegrass’s Porto trio (Mike Devol, Paul Hoffman, and Anders Beck), as well as Tikyra Jackson and Matt Butler trading off on drums. A Fruition set of yacht-rocky Americana morphed into a bluegrass barnstormer.

DAY THREE
Wednesday, October 11

I ran into Los Lobos’s Steve Berlin at breakfast (he saw my “Scrabble” T-shirt and asked me if I played). After some word nerd talk, I asked him how his Sojourn was going. “I’ve played in the same band for 50 years, and you know, some nights I could literally be in a coma. I don’t have to use my brain. It’s nice to actually have to use all of it.”

The centerpiece of Wednesday was our riverboat cruise on the Douro River. A dockside cafe was not ready for the arrival of 150 hungry and thirsty pre-gaming music fans, but the lone waitperson did her best to feed and water us.

ACT I

We boarded the Esplendor do Douro and took off westward on the Douro toward the river mouth. The floating performance was a nonstop three-hour set of Grateful Dead by the aptly named Ship of Fools ensemble. Lebo and Law have performed under this moniker before. This time, they were joined by Holly Bowling, the Greensky trio (Mike Devol, Paul Hoffman, Anders Beck), Tim Carbone, Steve Berlin, Natalie Cressman, Ross James, and both Matt Butler and Tikyra Jackson on drums.

The riverboat was about the same size as a Manhattan Circle Line ferry, and the band filled the deck at the prow. It was a breezy, sunny day, and we floated downstream under river’s bridges and past Porto’s canyon walls. The set began with an apt “Big River,” with Bowling and Lebo playfully trading leads. The city’s distinctive pastel yellow and green buildings and port warehouses provided colorful background views. Some travelers on passing river tour boats got up to dance when we egged them on.

The high riverbanks mellowed to sandy shores as we approached the Atlantic near sunset. “Cassidy” gave a soundtrack to the visuals, the “flight of the seabirds.” A fisherman standing up in a small motorboat rocked in rhythm with us as he reeled in a fish. During “I Know You Rider,” our minds were wandering like the wild geese flying above our heads in the west (of Portugal).

Anders Beck shared a truism: “We haven’t yet found a place where Grateful Dead music doesn’t sound good.”

ACT II

Back at the hotel, O Gajo opened the evening festivities with a set of originals on viola campaniça, a traditional countryside 10-string Portuguese guitar with a distinctive and hypnotic tuning. Gajo was accompanied (as we learned when he introduced them) by “Right Foot” on a small kick bass drum and “Left Foot” on tambourine.

The Greensky Trio was joined by emerging Sojourn MVP Holly Bowling for a set of familiar GB songs. (Coincidentally, two of the other Sojourn musicians, Steve Berlin and Tim Carbone, had produced GB albums.) “What You Need” was particularly epic, with Berlin, Natalie Cressman and Jennifer Hartswick each soloing and adding “brassgrass” texture to the melody.

Bowling’s toddler son stole the limelight when he wandered on stage with his toy guitar and showed everyone else how to be a rock star. Hoffman began bidding for who could sign the boy up for their band.

DAY 4
Thursday, October 12

ACT I

Thursday morning’s “Bom Dia Musica” set in the hotel courtyard showcased Lebo, Mimi Naja and Ross James. Naja and Lebo harmonized on “Can’t Find My Way Home,” and then traded lyrics with him on “You’ve Got a Friend.”

Lebo sang his own “We Carry On.” He told us it was fitting to play in Europe because, “I wrote this tune on this continent, in Amsterdam some years back after a trip to the Anne Frank house.”

Naja reminded us of a poignant truth before singing Bob Dylan’s “Chimes of Freedom”: “I’m reconciling having the time of our lives while a lot of terrible things are happening around the world. We’re allowed to experience joy while we open our hearts to send out good thoughts, vibes, prayers, whatever you want to call them, for peace”

ACT II

We were invited to “dress to impress” for Thursday night’s “Sojourner Soirée” at the Palácio da Bolsa. The Palácio is on every “top ten things to see in Porto” list. It’s a 19th century uber-swanky, mega-ornate edifice. I remember Matt Butler saying a few months back he needed to find a suitable setting for a Holly Bowling performance. Mission accomplished! (Dancing was prohibited in the opulent Arab Room. We swayed gently instead.)

Tim Carbone and Todd Sheaffer opened this evening’s festivities. Sheaffer was recovering from illness and his voice was raspy, a little Tom Waits-ish. Notable in the duo’s short set was an Irish lament that Sheaffer introduced for “all our friends and family who have recently passed away.”

Holly Bowling and Paul Hoffman sound-checked half of “Eye of the Tiger” before Bowling began her mostly solo set on a Steinway concert grand piano. She focused on Grateful Dead songs, including “Crazy Fingers” and “Row Jimmy,” but recast them in her delightfully fluid and virtuosic style. Bowling was in awe of the room just like everyone else. “I always get lost when I play. I opened my eyes during that piece and said, oh, we’re here!”

Hoffman joined Bowling on mandolin for his GB song “Windshield” before Bowling closed her part of the show with an aptly chosen “Brokedown Palace.”

The evening’s “headliner” was billed as “Damas Noturnas,” and most of us assumed that was another Portuguese act Butler found to wow us. Instead, it was Mimi Naja. And Holly Bowling. And Nikki Bluhm. And Natalie Cressman, Jenifer Hartswick. And Tikyra Jackson. And Megan Letts. The ladies of the night! A nearly all-women set (Paul Hoffman and Anders Beck provided accompaniment on a few songs) blew us away with harmonies on a number of originals and covers.

All of las Damas Noturnas took at least one turn on lead vocals (with the exception of Bowling). Each was better than the last! We wanted more from each singer.

The most powerful and memorable moment was a version of Ralph Carmichael’s spiritual “A Quiet Place,” dedicated to sax player James Casey, who (as mentioned earlier) was slated to join us in Porto before his death in August. Casey’s Trey Anastasio Bandmates Cressman and Hartswick led the singing and crying, and the entire Arab Room was awash with tears.

Then from this quiet place
I go prepared to face
A new day with love for all mankind

Nikki Bluhm did a good job bringing some joy back into the room with Carole King’s “Sweet Seasons” before the closing number, an audience singalong cover of TLC’s “Waterfalls.”

DAY 5
Friday, October 13

ACT I

The “Bom Dia Musica” performance was moved to the basement music hall at Hotel Mouco due to rain. This was our first and only rainy day, a lucky and unusual treat for Porto in October. The stage used for evening performances was hidden behind a curtain, and the artists sat in folding chairs in front of a window along the side of the room. Several sojourners lay on carpets in front of the musicians, reclining on throw pillows. The vibe was mellow.

Jay Cobb Anderson (on his 40th birthday) kicked it off with a few solo originals and some magical duets with Megan Letts. (Not coincidentally, they are married.) Then Anders Beck and Jennifer Hartswick joined him. Paul Simon’s “Under African Skies,” the Stones’ “Wild Horses,” and Bill Withers’ “Kissing My Love” were among the tasty lunchtime covers. Anderson shared an original tune to remind us that, “One day we’re all gonna die.” During this one, a mariachi duel emerged organically between Hartswick and Beck, both jumping out of their seats to challenge each other playfully.

I asked Beck afterward what makes the Sojourn experience different from a typical festival collaboration. “Yeah, we often do this together, some of us, each weekend at a festival -- like, I’ll see Hartswick, and we’ll do something together. Or I’ll see the Fruition people, and we’ll do a song. But here, it’s the whole week. We’ll prepare a song and do collaborations that are incredibly unique. And everyone puts effort into those things musically.”

The effort shows. Beck summarized it this way: “It could be thrown together. But it’s not!”

The ”Bom Dia Musica” set ended with Letts and Natalie Cressman joining Hartswick in picture-perfect harmony on Aretha Franklin’s jazzy soul love song “Day Dreaming.”

ACT II

Sojourners spread out on their own throughout the city for sightseeing, twelve-course Michelin star meals, and shopping sprees until it was time for the first of two evening performances. The first was at Igreja do Carmo, an 18th century Catholic church that is one of Porto’s most visited tourist sites. We had to wait for Mass to end before we could file inside.

Typical of Iberian churches, the nave and alter areas of this midsize congregation house were bursting with ornate sculptures, paintings, gold-leaf filigrees and other accoutrements depicting saints and the story of Christ, particularly his bloody end. Some of us were amused by the irony of our presence, some were mildly (or perhaps worse) “triggered” by the trappings.

Sopa de Pedra (which translates to “Stone Soup”) is an a cappella group of 10 women from Porto. Five of them came to sing for us. They shared delightful songs about ripening fruit, birds, and peasant workers.

Next, Paul Hoffman and Mimi Naja played an acoustic set, trading guitar and mandolin. They played a few originals and some covers too. After singing “More Love” (The Chicks made it famous, it was written by Gary Nicholson and Tim O'Brien), Naja looked up at the iconography surrounding us and said, “Love, that’s my religion.” After a Greensky song, Hoffman said, “That was about right for a church.”

“Take Me Out of the City.” (a Dawes cover) was a perfect closer for the set, with the scene-appropriate (or not, depending on your point of view) lyric, “Take me out of the city, where God's never been; where my soul is my sorrow, and it's bound by my skin.”

We walked out of the church to thunder and lightning. Derive from that what you may.

ACT III

We reconvened later in the evening at the Hot Five Jazz & Blues Club, an American-style swanky jazz house with tiered seating, red table lamps, and a small dance floor in front of a blue-curtained stage. A large sign on the wall just left of the stage said, “Music On, World Off.” Well, okay then!

When we arrived, a jazz trio was on stage. With sax, drums and upright bass, Last Action Trio performed a Brad Mehldau arrangement of the Oasis hit “Wonderwall.”

Next up was Natalie Cressman and Ian Faquini . They told us they’d gotten engaged in Porto in February. Their love for each other shines clearly when they play together.

The duo kicked it off with some fast-talking Brazilian jazz songs. Cressman watched Faquini while they scatted in unison to follow his timing on the intricate “rap.” Befitting the jazzy venue, they also played an Ella Fitzgerald song, and then called up Nikki Bluhm to croon “Moon River,” the Henry Mancini chestnut. Throughout the performance, Faquini’s fluid Brazilian guitar styling was flawless and fluid. Cressman sat with her trombone across her lap while she was singing and then brought the instrument to her lips to provide immaculate accompaniment and solos.

Lebo and Friends (including Ross James, Tikyra Jackson, Natalie Cressman and Jennifer Hartswick, among others – Lebo has a lot of friends!) closed the evening with a long set that got us all sweating on the club’s small dance floor. We finally got to hear Lebo’s “I Wanna Feel It,” a fan favorite which had been cut from the Day 1 set due to time constraints. After that, there were two clear highlights:

1.    “Sympathy for the Devil” with enthusiastic “woo-hoo” refrains from the audience.

2.    The Talking Heads’ “Slippery People” included a long jam with shifting rhythms and Lebo riffing the “Gilligan’s Island” theme. While he did that, many of us joined in with an audience chorus of “A three-hour tour!” Lebo told me he’d meant to play the TV show theme in the riverboat set; better late than never!

DAY 6
Saturday, October 14

The final day!

ACT I (In four parts)

Cat Falcão Trio began the evening in the Mouco music hall. The Lisbon singer serenaded us with a country-ish voice that reminded me of Neko Case in her first-album days. Falcão told us she was nervous, but she had nothing to be nervous about; her voice was clear as honey and her songs rang with honesty and personality.  

Next up was a funk and soul set led and arranged by Jennifer Hartswick and Tikyra Jackson. They were joined by Lebo, Scott Law, and other members of what I’ll now call the Sojourn Musicians Union. Close your eyes and imagine a jam band playing at a hippie bar mitzvah on a cruise boat – and there you are! The hits kept coming. We grooved to “Tell Me Somethin’ Good,”  “How Deep is Your Love,” and “Midnight Train to Georgia,” the latter with us dance floor denizens joining in on the Pips’ classic backing vocals.  

Hartswick introduced the recent pop hit “Feel It Still” as an inside joke. It’s a song by alt-pop stars Portugal. The Man. Get it?

To complete the bar mitzvah jam cruise theme, three wee folks (kids of Holly Bowling, Ross James, Paul Hoffman) stole the show with their onstage rock star dancing during “Higher Ground” while Lebo and Law knelt beside them trading solos.

The last song of this set was a departure from the funk party theme. Nearly every musician in the lineup came up to honor and remember James Casey with a teary-eyed performance of his song “Outside.”

Everybody knows your name
And although it ain't the same
Know you're really glad you came
Outside

After a break, Matt Butler treated us to another version of Everyone Orchestra. Todd Sheaffer, Tim Carbone, Paul Hoffman, Kellen Asebroek, Ross James, Natalie Cressman, Megan Letts, Jennifer Hartswick, Mimi Naja and members of the local acts Retimbrar and Sopa de Pedra were among the cast. (I counted 22 musicians conducted by Butler at the end.)  Washboard impresario Andrea "Caterino" Scarso from Italy was a late addition to the lineup, and he played emotively and joyfully at the front of the stage.

This was one of my favorite EO sets ever. The vocals by Sopa de Petra added a magical harmonic dimension, and the Lisbon ladies were having the time of their lives.

Butler told me later it was interesting putting together so many disparate elements. “Part of the challenge is to get everyone to show up not knowing where it’s gonna go.” For instance, one of the jams was actually a repeat of an EO bit that emerged in Lisbon in 2019, a frolicsome bit centered on a fun vocal take on obrigado, the Portuguese word for “thank you”. “Only Kellen [Asebroek] knew we were gonna do it,” Butler told me. Smiles spread across the stage when Asebroek started singing “Oh … oh … oh …brigado!” The “lyric” was quickly picked up by everyone on the mics.

Toward the end of the set, Hartswick playfully mocked Butler’s EO whiteboarding by whipping out a handwritten sign for him that said, “Guns Out!” Butler complied, ripping off his trademark embroidered EO tuxedo jacket and finishing the set in a sleeveless white button-down shirt.

And so it ended. All things must pass, and our Sojourn was almost over.

Among the few Sojourn musicians in the house that night who were not in EO that night were four pickers: Lebo, Law, Naja, and Faquini. The quartet came out immediately after EO to stand with their guitars just in front of the stage. They led the entire assembly in a passionate singalong version of “Forever Young.”

There was cake for Lebo’s birthday. The rest was all hugs and goodbyes.

Matt Butler was happy at breakfast the next morning. “It was everything I ever dreamed of it being. Everyone Orchestra is a way for me to meet people and build community and trust and relationships. It’s powerful, it’s incredible, it’s a gift.” Butler and crew earned a standing ovation for sharing that gift with all of the Sojourners.

May we all stay forever young and have opportunities to share such memorable experiences. And let us raise a glass and sing a song for those who don’t have these magical opportunities.

COMPLETE (mostly) ARTIST LIST

AMERICAN PERFORMERS:
Paul Hoffman (Greensky Bluegrass; guitar, mandolin, vocals)
Anders Beck (Greensky Bluegrass; Dobro)
Mike Devol (Greensky Bluegrass; bass)
Dan “Lebo” Lebowitz (ALO; guitar, vocals)
Tim Carbone (Railroad Earth; violin)
Todd Sheaffer (Railroad Earth; guitar, vocals)
Mimi Naja (Fruition; guitar, mandolin, vocals)
Jay Cobb Anderson (Fruition; guitar, vocals)
Kellen Asebroek (Fruition; guitar, keyboards, vocals)
Nicki Bluhm (vocals)
Natalie Cressman (Trey Anastasio Band; trombone, vocals)
Ian Faquini (guitar, vocals)
Jennifer Hartswick (Trey Anastasio Band; trumpet, vocals)
Steve Berlin (Los Lobos; saxophone)
Tikyra Jackson (Southern Avenue; drums, vocals)
Matt Butler (Jambay, Everyone Orchestra; drums, conducting)
Megan Letts (Mama Magnolia; vocals)
Aaron Feder (The Burning Shore, Alma Afrobeat Ensemble, Pedal Steel)
Andrea "Caterino" Scarso (Washboard)

PORTUGUESE PERFORMERS:
Retimbrar
O Gajo
Bernardo Couto
Cat Falcão
Sopa de Pedra

In the early 80s (I know, I’m dating myself), my East Coast friends raved about their local hippie band Max Creek. When I visited my crew in Connecticut in 1984, they took me to my first Creek show. The vibe was Grateful Dead-ish, but Max Creek had their own flavor. It was like trying on a new pair of prewashed jeans in a new color. They weren't the same old jeans, but they were my kind of jeans.

Later on, I had a similar experience with Colorado’s Little Women (Jerry Joseph’s first band). After hearing my CO hippie friends play a cassette a few times, I checked out Little Women at a club after that afternoon’s Grateful Dead show in Telluride in 1987. They were fun, both familiar and fresh. I picked up shades of Little Feat and hints of funk and reggae, but there was something new and different in the mix too.

My friends in Burlington used to brag about their hometown band too – and man, did those guys take off! I never saw Phish in a small club, but I’ve seen countless other local bands over the years that travel the same roads as the archetypal Rock and Roll Hall of Fame jam bands. The best of these up-and-comers drive eye-catching vehicles that leave colorful tread marks on well-worn paths. Some turn into the jamband behemoth-of-the-moment (Widespread, Spafford, Goose, fill in your favorites here). Some spend years trying to get noticed.

It's time for people to notice Chicago’s Old Shoe.

Old Shoe’s new album Past the Light is the quintet’s first release in six years. The Shoe drops (sorry, couldn’t resist!) their new record on December 8, 2023.
Old Shoe’s website says their music “lands in a space that is as comfortable as an old shoe.” That’s a good description. Their Americana roots draw heavily from the rich loam fertilized by The Dead and the Allman Brothers. Like many jam-tangent bands over the last four-plus decades, Old Shoe (Matt Robinson, guitar and vocals; Joe Day, keyboards, mandolin, and vocals; Jonathan Reed, drums and vocals; Jim Conry, guitar and vocals; and Janis Wallin, bass and vocals) wears its influences on the sleeve of a big, comfy sweater. But like the best of the lot, their “sweater” has attractive, original designs. It’s not an ugly sweater! It is, well, a comfortable shoe.

The new album was engineered, co-produced and mixed by Stephen Shirk, who has worked with many jam-adjacent music festival stalwarts including Alabama Shakes, The Lumineers, and Trampled by Turtles. The experience shows, and this may be Old Shoe’s strongest outing yet. Past the Light is a well-constructed collection with high production values that showcases the band’s songwriting chops and performance skills. Old Shoe's last release, 2017’s Country Home, veered toward the southern rock side of the jam band highway. With funky keyboards and envelope filters, Past the Light takes a different route, one that often hews closer to avenues inhabited by Jerry Garcia and Bob Weir. At the same time, about half of the tunes stand out with distinctive, well-honed craftsmanship that places Old Shoe in their own lane. The first category of cuts (the somewhat Dead-ish stuff) suggests that Old Shoe has the chops to put on a damn good live show for jam fans. The songs in the latter category, particularly the last two songs on Past the Light, earn them the right to crow about their unique creativity.

The opening track, “Adeline,” kicks it off with heavy organ layered beneath a catchy introductory guitar refrain. Singer Jim Conry’s lyrics are ironic and playful: “I was only half full when you filled my cup”; “I can’t give you back any of your lost time — and if I could, I would give you all of mine.” Later, Conry’s quick-and-dirty guitar solo hints at the live performance potential for this cut.

“Flowers on the Hill” is a sweet, melodic song that could spend time in the rotation of any AOR station. It’s a well-sung mid-tempo ballad with a radio-ready chorus. Like many of the album’s best songs, the guitar bit in the middle takes it up a notch with Jerry-like twang. And yeah, not everyone likes a long solo – but in this case, Conry’s solo is too short. Like the jam in “Adeline” and many of the other songs on Past the Light, “Flowers on the Hill” sounds like a template for an extended version Old Shoe might kick out on a club stage. More, please!

Things move into the world of social commentary for just a few minutes on “Monkey Business Weekend.” Joe Day’s critique slams billionaire investors who play fast and loose with the economy to make a buck. Is it directed at someone he knows, or a generic Fuck you, Fat Cats! indictment? Either way, it doesn’t bring down the playful energy of the album, and the chorus is bound to get hands and fingers waving on the dance floor:

Wave your hand in circles in the air – Like a billionaire
Finger to the sky and buy the share – Like a billionaire

“Ray” will remind any Deadhead of “Rubin and Cherise” when they hear the opening musical refrain. (That’s what I thought, and then my wife said the same thing.) This is perhaps the best example on Past the Light of paying homage to The Dead. When the keys come in for a short instrumental interlude, and even more so in the closing guitar solo, “Ray” morphs into a variation of “Terrapin Station.” Conry’s solo is tasty, perhaps more Dickey Betts than Jerry Garcia despite emulating the latter’s trademark wah-wah sound. "Ray" is likely to be a favorite for Deadhead fans looking for something close to home in Old Shoe's repertoire.

The next track, “Seen the Way,” starts with an “Elizabeth Reed” for a moment before driving into its own groove. At this point, it's clear this song is not cut from the same cloth as the stereotypical jam song. “Seen the Way” has chorus harmonies by Day, Robinson and Conry that has shades of Alice in Chains, a different spin that underscores Old Shoe’s ability to combine disparate elements of American rock music into a cohesive mix. Bass player Janis Wallin adds to the harmonies on a soulful bridge.

“Helium” is a light-hearted love song with an uplifting melody befitting its airy name. Majors and minors, step-ups and musical pauses keep this cut afloat. "Helium" is the most memorable, hummable tune on the record. The refrain is a bit trite – “I don’t wanna come down, wanna stay up here with you” – but the bridge is craftier:
The higher I go, the more the shadows grow
The closer to earth I get, the sooner I am to forget

The album closes strongly with “Astral Country Night.” Along with “Helium,” Old Shoe saved the best for last. “Astral Country Night” leads off by evoking imagery befitting its title; a pastoral, starlit intro that says there is “Not a care in sight.” Then Old Shoe jumps into a low-light funk groove that will get everyone out of bed to shake their nighttime bones. Joe Day’s classic organ crashes lead into a verse and Matt Robinson sings about “Moonlit silhouette gone dancing on
the beach, turning up the sand.” The band relies on a well-worn lyric to close the album: "It’s gonna be alright.” Maybe that’s not an original thought, but in the hands of creative, competent musicians and singers, is that really an issue? Like Elvis Costello said (when asked if he’d noticed that Olivia Rodrigo's song “Brutal” sounded like “Pump It Up”): “It's how rock and roll works. You take the broken pieces of another thrill and make it a brand-new toy.”

It's gonna be all right for Old Shoe. Check out their new toy.

Great American Trainwreck recently released Red Deer, the third record for the Seattle quintet (Stephanie Ward, lead vocals, acoustic guitar, and viola; Nick Nordus, lead electric and acoustic guitar; Dan Rogers, bass; Andy Basinger, keys; Dave Bush, drums). With a blend of bluegrassy twang and Americana rock and country influences, Red Deer is a confident evolution replete with radio-friendly lyrics and credible instrumentation.

The band describes this self-produced outing as “an opportunity to take more risks and explore new ideas that pushed the band and the album into uncharted waters.” Nick Nordus is a new addition to the lineup, and his lead guitar is prominent in the musical interludes between Stephanie Ward’s country-tonk vocals. But make no mistake; like their earlier releases, Ward’s soprano lead vocals provide the hook that gives Great American Trainwreck its distinctive sound.

For the record, this band has no apparent personnel connection to Great American Taxi (Vince Herman’s band during Leftover Salmon’s early-aughts hiatus). But if you like Taxi, you might like Trainwreck. Imagine Leftover Salmon with Lone Justice’s Maria McKee belting out Roadhouse Americana instead of Vince and Drew on the lead vocals. True to the genre, the songs hew toward subjects that include road trips, train rides, and landscapes. Through it all, there is a thread of nostalgia for days and relationships gone by. There’s also a healthy dose of living for the now and remaining hopeful for the future. Even the song titles spell it out. “Still Around.” “On the Run.” “Room to Roam.” “Pacific Moon.” “Loaded” captures the spirit of Red Deer’s lyrical essence:

Down a tunnel, southward bound
Lower level and underground
Skip the local, head to express
Ticket punched for regrets

Elsewhere, Ward tells us that it’s “time to make a U-turn and swing back around” (“Still Around”). She says she “heard about a place where you can climb above the clouds under the trees.” In “Light Years,” the first track on Red Deer, she describes being “miles from the moon running full speed ahead.” There is a loose narrative of longing for both past and future that strings these tunes together, and Ward sells it with a sweet alto-soprano.

The title track is the most interesting cut on Red Deer. It’s really two songs in one, beginning with a bluegrassy New Riders-ish ramble that includes the album’s best line: “Tables are turning, and velvet is burning to bone.” The first 3½ minutes could stand on its own as a radio track for any honkytonk or bluegrass station. But then, Great American Trainwreck detours into uncharted waters with a song-within-a-song jam. During this interlude, Nordus takes the lead for a few minutes of an Arabesque-psychedelic jam that might remind some older hippies of Jefferson Airplane’s deep cut “Spare Chaynge.”

Ward gets to take a breather during the interlude, until the pace quickens and she finds herself once again in bluegrass territory, “Rolling into madness like a red deer,” to bring the song to a rambunctious close. “Golden Gardens” closes Red Deer with wistful reflections on a lost relationship. Nordus’s slide guitar underscores the evolving, often imperceptible transitions inherent in life and love while Ward muses that it’s “hard to recognize the people we’ve become.” She longs for bygone, perfect moments in the chorus:

Playing our music
Without a sound
Millions of people, but
No one else around

Indeed, perhaps it’s often hard to recognize the people we’ve become. But it’s easy to recognize who Great American Trainwreck is by the time the song fades to black to close the album. They are “playing their music” – and perhaps with the release of Red Deer, they’ll build new relationships with legions of Americana fans.

Midnight North singer Elliott Peck brought some of her friends to Mill Valley’s Sweetwater Music Hall on Friday, Dec. 8, for a delightful and powerful headlining gig that showcased her brilliant voice and distinctive songwriting chops. The Sweetwater was packed with veterans of Phil Lesh’s Terrapin Crossroads scene as well as other music lovers who have grown to appreciate Peck as one of the Bay Area’s finest performers. She delivered the goods, illuminating herself as an artist on the rise whose prospects are unlimited.

The evening was billed as a record release party for Peck’s new four-song EP In The Pines. (The EP is now available on streaming services and can be purchased on CD via her website) Many of the musicians who helped her record the new tracks were on board, including her Midnight North bandmates Grahame Lesh (guitar, vocals) and Nathan Graham (drums, vocals), as well as ALO’s Dan “Lebo” Lebowitz (guitar, pedal steel, vocals), superstar session and touring musician Jason Crosby (keyboards and fiddle), and Burt Lewis from Jerry’s Middle Finger (bass). Rounding out the ensemble was a tight horn section with TAB alum Natalie Cressman (trombone, vocals) and Jazz Mafia’s Ross Eustis (trumpet).

For two sets (there was no opening act), the setlist alternated between a mix of country, classic rock, and R&B covers interspersed with a selection of songs from both Peck’s 2018 album Further From The Storm and the new EP. “I Believe to My Soul,” a Ray Charles hit, opened the show, and well-known songs like Stevie Wonder’s “Sir Duke” and “Into the Mystic” were crowd pleasers as the night progressed.

The covers were soulful and fun, but the originals shined brighter. And for good reason: Peck’s lyrical ground is heartfelt, a tide of pensive reflections floating atop imagery of farmhouses and forests. She’s “in the zone” when she sings her own words. “Good for You I Guess” and “Highway Song,” both from Further From The Storm, were solid anchors in the middle of the first set – and while Peck had fun and sang with gusto all night (make no mistake, she can belt out the blues!), she seemed most at home with songs like these.

This was particularly true during the semi-acoustic portion of the show that opened the second set. Peck’s Midnight North song “The Colors Here” (from that band’s new album Diamonds In The Zodiac, which was released just last month) was among the evening’s highlights: This house has been shaken and twisted from the floor
I got a feelin’ we’re not in Kansas anymore A new perspective’s worth the fear Oh, but the colors here...

Peck also triumphed on “Row the River,” the single from the new EP (available now on Spotify). Her lyrics on this song abound with spirits of classic country sorrows; she laments, for instance, that “I watched that sunset alone,” and “The past ain’t nothing but a postcard.” Lebo’s “Bakersfield sound” pedal steel added a layer of plaintiveness to complete the Americana landscape during these renditions.

It’s obvious why luminaries including Phil Lesh (Grahame’s father, of course), Bob Weir, Jackie Greene, and Reid Genauer have asked Peck to sing harmonies with them. Her voice is strong and unwavering, a hint of Crystal Gayle’s tone combined with Allison Krauss’s midwestern heartland purity. She paid homage to the latter at the Sweetwater with a rousing version of “Oh Atlanta” (originally by Bad Company) toward the end of the second set. Peck sings in a lower register than Krauss but with the same confidence, power, and clarity.

Other country / Americana covers included first-set takes on Dolly Parton’s “Do I Ever Cross Your Mind” (which is included on the new EP) and “Dry Town,” a Gillian Welch and Dave Rawlings song that was a big hit for Miranda Lambert. Peck made these songs her own with tight accompaniment from her accomplished friends. She was born on a farm in rural Michigan, but her parents introduced her to the blues at an early age and took her to Chicago for music festivals as a child. While Peck’s own songs tend toward country music, her love of blues and R&B canon was evident at the Sweetwater when she sang Gladys Knight’s “Midnight Train” and "Baby Don't You Do It" (the latter written by Motown greats Eddie Holland, Lamont Dozier and Brian Holland for Marvin Gaye, and covered famously by The Band).

For the Terrapin Crossroads faithful, there had to be some Grateful Dead, of course. Peck’s take on the Dead’s “New Speedway Boogie” near the end of the second set was powerful, with her impeccable voice in the forefront of this bouncy blues classic. Reed Mathis (Billy and the Kids, Tea Leaf Green, etc.) joined on stage to shred some guitar, trading licks with Lebo and Lesh. Mathis and Lebo in particular have two of the most distinctive approaches to Jerry’s licks in the Bay Area’s expanded Dead cover band milieu – and even so, the best parts of the song came when Peck was at the mic leading the audience for choruses of “This darkness got to give!”

Yes, it was Peck’s night to shine, but certainly, the band was with her every step of the way. (Peck herself didn’t pick up a guitar until the third song, and she only played on about half of the numbers.) Lebo and Lesh took turns on leads, and Crosby often stepped up on keys to take the spotlight. Lewis and Graham held the floor steady all night, with equal aplomb on both the soft Americana and the boisterous R&B.

Grahame Lesh has matured on lead guitar since the early days of Midnight North. A residency at Terrapin Crossroads and numerous gigs with his father’s rotating cast of Phil and Friends has given him a ton of live experience, and it shows. (Most, if not all, of the musicians on stage have also played with Phil in various “Friends” lineups.) Lebo always impresses with his distinctive electric-style acoustic guitar chops and his country licks on pedal steel. Crosby is one of the most talented keyboardists in a generation. Together, the trio could support any singer on any size stage; the intimacy of the Sweetwater made their performance particularly sweet.

Cressman and Eustis were on stage for about half of the show, returning particularly to add horns on the upbeat rock and blues jams. Each had multiple turns to solo on their respective brass instruments. Cressman also took several lead vocal spots in addition to adding harmonies alongside Lebo and Lesh. Notably, she took one of the verses in the second set closer, “Brokedown Palace” to demonstrate her inestimable crooning talent. Cressman stands along with Peck as one of the extended jamband world’s best singers, and the audience rewards her with well-deserved attention and applause on each occasion.

For the encore, Peck and Co. tore through “Keep Your Lamps Trimmed and Burning,” the traditional blues song perhaps best known as a Hot Tuna vehicle. Peck seemed to emphasize the sister in the line “Sister keep right on prayin'.” Despite being surrounded by a bunch of mostly guys on stage, and even when singing songs written by men, she is determined to own every line she sings. Peck’s authenticity is her power – and it may yet carrier her higher as a solo artist than the heights she has reached co-fronting Midnight North. If the Sweetwater gig is a sign of things to come, the world will hear a lot more from Elliott Peck.

Setlist:

SET 1
I Believe to My Soul
How Long Do I Have to Wait
Another Life Ago
Good for You I Guess
Dry Town
Highway Song
Do I Ever Cross Your Mind
In the Pines
Midnight Train to Georgia
Don’t Do It
Sir Duke

SET 2
Coyote
A Great Farewell
The Colors Here
Row the River
Oh Atlanta
Into the Mystic
Greene County
New Speedway Boogie
Brokedown Palace

ENCORE
Keep Your Lamps Trimmed and Burning

Check out more PHOTOS from the show

Nat Keefe’s Concert Carnival came to town and performed “without a net” at The Independent on Sunday night, December 17, 2023. The venerable San Francisco club was full of talent, musical and otherwise, for the 18th annual fundraiser produced by Keefe (Hot Buttered Rum, BeatMower).

Billed as an “All-Star Cabaret Variety Show,” this year’s Carnival featured music from Keefe and a few of his bandmates from Hot Buttered Rum (Erik Yates, Bryan Horne), as well as Elliott Peck of Midnight North, members of AJ Lee and Blue Summit, the Coffis Brothers, and many more.

Keefe’s annual holiday-season Concert Carnival was launched in 2006. After five years of nonstop touring with Hot Buttered Rum, Keefe says he was “looking for something to mix things up and reconnect myself with my favorite parts of music – and to have an excuse to work out tunes with new and old music friends.” His vision extended beyond music and evolved into a variety show with all sorts of performers. “We’ve had aerial dancing, a trick dog show, movie premieres, circus arts, theatrical shorts. Every year a different recipe.”

The ”recipe” at this year’s Carnival included a rated-PG burlesque comedy routine by Femme Fatale, a screening of a short film, The Taste of Sound, and Patrick Ball's "Field of Flowers," a unique and colorful visual display on the edges of the stage.

Make no mistake; the core ingredients for Keefe’s annual Carnival “recipe” are (naturally, organically) the musicians. Over the years, the Carnival has featured members of The String Cheese Incident, Railroad Earth, Cornmeal, the Brothers Comatose, Poor Man’s Whiskey, ALO, New Monsoon, and more.

This year, Keefe assembled an all-star Carnival troupe featuring Elliott Peck (Midnight North), Katia "Pixie" Racine (Pixie and the Party Boys), country/Americana singers Jessica Malone and Hattie Craven, and Kyle Ledson and Mei Lin Heirendt (Broken Compass Bluegrass). A Santa Cruz contingent included the Coffis Brothers Duo (Jamie and Kellen), AJ Lee, and Lee’s bandmates Jan Purat and Scott Gates. Award-winning California bluegrass guitarist Yoseff Tucker and drummer Anna Elva rounded out the bill.

Also on hand were local DJ Cibby, spinning before and between sets, and emcee KC Turner. Josh “Gelf on a Shelf” Gelfand roamed through the crowd selling raffle tickets and spreading holiday cheer. Femme Fatale’s French Kiss lesson was charming and funny.

The Carnival is all about fun and games (Turner told the crowd, “Every year the Nat Keefe Carnival gets a little spicier), but it’s more than that. The event is always a fundraiser for a worthy cause. Keefe says, “For the last couple of years, I’ve decided to focus on SF-local small nonprofits, where our modest fundraiser can probably make the biggest difference.”

This year’s beneficiary is San Francisco’s City of Dreams, whose mission is to help build brighter futures for youth in underserved communities. City of Dreams’ services include mentorship, a gardening and financial literacy program, and afterschool programs with homework help and enrichment activities at two public housing sites.

As Keefe puts it, “I sometimes think of the parallels with the nonprofit world and the ‘not- profitable’ early stages of being a musician.” The performers Keefe selects each year reflect that sensibility. (My first Carnival was in 2011 when the daughter of some very good friends of mine was in high school, and Keefe invited her indie band The She’s to play a short set.)

Certainly, music was the main event of the Carnival. Musicians rotated on and off the stage for two long sets of bluegrass, folk, and Americana featuring a host of singers. Jessica Malone sang the first number along with Keefe, accompanied by Keefe’s HBR partners Bryan Horne and Erik Yates, among others. (Keefe produced Malone’s soon-to-be-released album, and it’s a good bet that this song, “On & On & On,” will be on that record.) Mandolin prodigy Kyle Ledson followed with a barn-stomping version of the bluegrass classic “High on a Mountaintop.” Several pickers took turns on leads, each playing their respective instrument with the mindfulness and sensibility required by acoustic players on a crowded stage.

Shortly after that, following Femme Fatale’s fun and frolicsome “French Kissing Lesson” interlude, the stage was given over to AJ Lee and the Coffis Brothers for a stripped-down rendition of the Everly Brothers classic “All I Have To Do Is Dream.” A few songs later, Elliott Peck took the mic for a rousing “Oh, Atlanta” (a Bad Company song many know from the Alison Krauss version). Salt Lake City’s Pixie closed the first set with a jaunty “Club Thing.” Like many benefits of star-studded stages, the audience wanted more from everybody!

After a short break, emcee KC Turner touted the fundraising raffle while the resident holiday spirit “Gelf on a Shelf” prowled the crowd to plea for raffle purchases. All the proceeds were designated for City of Dreams, the evening’s beneficiary. Prizes included the chance to have Nat Keefe write a song specifically for the winner.

Before the music started up again, the audience was treated to a screening of a short documentary, The Taste of Sound, by filmmakers Bria Light and Jennifer Wiley. The film featured an engaging introduction to musical synesthesia, with musicians describing their own sensory experiences. (Google “musical synesthesia” to learn more about this fascinating type of neurodiversity.)

And then – back to the music.

Set Two kicked off with some hell-raising bluegrass by Mei Lin Heirendt and Jan Purat on fiddles, Scott Gates on mandolin, Yoseff Tucker on guitar, and Bryan Horne on the double bass. After some master instrumental picking (Bill Monroe’s “Roanoke” and “Wheel Hoss”), the ensemble featured the voices of Heirendt and Gates on a classic country version of Johnny Cash and June Carter’s “Jackson.” Heirendt’s vocals were notably fierce on this country crooner.

As the set continued, the collected musicians in the house again took turns on stage, picking leads, and stepping up to the mic. Peck, the Coffis Brothers, Malone, Lee, and Pixie each had another turn or two at vocals. Keefe sang as well, but predominantly on harmonies, letting his guests steal the spotlight for most of the night.

All of the performers were on stage by the end, including Philip Brezina of the Brothers Comatose (a surprise appearance). For the closer, Erik Yates led the crowded stage on “Joesph’s Dream” by John Hartford. All the angels sang: “Just when you think it can't get no better, then it does!”

And with that in mind, a chorus line of Carnival companions took a well-earned bow. The circus was over. That is, until next year’s triumphant holiday-season return of Nat Keefe’s Concert Carnival!

The Bay Area was awash with live music during the final days of 2023. During the week leading up to and including New Year’s Eve, live music fans in the region could choose The String Cheese Incident, LCD Soundsystem, Karl Denson’s Tiny Universe, Les Claypool’s Bastard Jazz, Jerry Harrison and Adrian Belew’s “Remain in Light” Talking Heads tribute, Charlie Musselwhite, and Jerry’s Middle Finger, among others. And of course, some folks stayed home to stream Phish.

For many fans, however, Leftover Salmon (LoS) was a must-see for at least one of their three gigs at Mill Valley’s Sweetwater Music Hall on December 29, 30, and 31. With their timeless, high-energy recipe for “polyethnic Cajun slamgrass,” the well-loved band rang in the new year to the delight of their faithful followers.

LoS advertised special guests David Nelson (New Riders of the Purple Sage, David Nelson Band) for the Dec. 30 show, and singer Maria Muldaur for New Year’s Eve. These two nights sold out, and as promised, each performance included a unique collaborative experience. A few surprise guests during the three-night stand added to the fun.

LoS played their first NorCal show at the Sweetwater, in the club’s old site down the street, way back in January 1994, five years after they got their start in Boulder, CO. The venue holds a special place in the band’s heart. Thirty years after that first Bay Area appearance, the venerable bluegrass-jamband was in fine form as they returned for yet another Sweetwater run. Founding members Vince Herman (guitar, vocals) and Drew Emmitt (guitar, mandolin, fiddle, vocals) are currently accompanied by Andy Thorn (banjo, fiddle, vocals), Greg Garrison (bass, vocals), Alwyn Robinson (drums) and newcomer Jay Starling (keyboards, pedal steel, dobro), who joined in 2022.

Vince Herman underscored the importance of the Sweetwater gigs “We’ve always loved playing the Sweetwater since the early 90’s, but this year was really special for us. Having Lorin Rowan, Eric Thompson, David Nelson, Maria Maldaur, and Matt Axton as guests really made for a great celebration of California music history.”

Friday night’s opening show included songs spanning their three-decade discography, including “Tu Nas Pas Aller,” from LoS’s debut album Bridges to Bert, and a cover of Lionel Hampton’s “Ridin' on the L & N,” a cut on their latest release, 2023’s Grass Roots. Eric Thompson (Black Mountain Boys, Mother McCree's Uptown Jug Champions) sat in for “Little Sadie” and “Beaumont Rag.” Local luminary Lorin Rowan (The Rowan Brothers) joined at the end of the first set for a cover of Lorin’s brother Peter’s song “Perfection.”  

David Nelson sat in for most of the first set on Saturday night. After a few LoS songs to open the show, Nelson was given a chair at center stage to lead the band through a number of songs that touched on the NRPS songbook, including a lovely “Last Lonely Eagle” and a raucous “Crooked Judge,” the latter written by Nelson with Grateful Dead lyricist Robert Hunter. Swimming on their own in the second set, LoS went deep into jam heaven with extended versions of Dylan’s “Tangled Up In Blue,” Doc Watson’s “Reuben’s Train,” and the LoS original “This is the Time.”   

New Year’s Eve was, of course, particularly festive. The audience was festooned with party hats and swanky hippie chic clothing for the affair. Vince Herman covered his button-down tie dye with a sport coat. Andy Thorn and Jay Starling bookended the stage dressed in sparkly party sequins.

Like the previous night, the first set featured the evening’s special guest. On NYE, it was Maria Muldaur, a Mill Valley resident whose picture is on the wall in the Sweetwater, sang with her trademark smokey voice, as vibrant and lively as ever. She kicked off her suite of songs with a post-pandemic original, “I’m Vaccinated and I’m Ready for Love.” She and Herman sang fondly to each other to close the set with a sultry tune, “Don’t You Feel My Leg.”

The second set kicked off with about 45 minutes left in 2023. After some Salmon tunes, With fifteen minutes to go before midnight, Matt Axton came out to sing his father Hoyt’s timeless classic "Never Been to Spain" and the blues classic “Stealin’.”

Then it was time for the New Year celebration. Herman led the midnight countdown – only a few seconds after midnight, not too shabby for a NYE jamband show – and the band shared glasses of champaign for just a moment while leading the crowd through a singalong “Auld Lange Syne.” No balloons dropped, but a few fans brought their own confetti.

To top it off, Maria Muldaur came back to sing (what else?!) “Midnight at the Oasis,” her 1973 hit. Drew Emmitt filled the bridge with a tasty electric guitar solo to give the immortal Top Ten chestnut some Salmon flavor. LoS followed this with an appropriate positive-vibe “Joesph’s Dream”:

Just when you think it can't get no better, then it does!

Later on, LoS paid homage to the Grateful Dead – whose legendary Bay Area NYE shows set the standard for all jambands – with a rip-snorting bluegrass rendition of “Black Peter” (Andy Thorn singing, as he does on LoS’s latest album), followed by Bonnie Dobson’s “Morning Dew.” The set closed with a spirited “Up on the Hill Where They Do the Boogie.”

For an encore, LoS kicked down “Euphoria,” giving the audience a chance to hoot and holler along with the band on the refrain:

Patted Eve on the bottom, patted Adam on the back
Smiled at the serpent and the serpent smiled back
Took a bite of the apple, two bites gone, hollerin'... Euphoria!

With that Bacchanalian scene in mind, LoS set the stage for a good time in 2024. May the Salmon run forever!

SETLISTS:

DECEMBER 29, 2023
Set 1:
Carnival Time
Gold Hill Line
Keep Driving
Two Highways
Light Behind the Rain
Tu Nas Pas Aller
Little Sadie (with Eric Thompson)
Beaumont Rag (with Eric Thompson)
Get Me Outta This City
I Don't Know You
Perfection (with Lorin Rowan)

Set 2:
Whispering Waters
Thinkin' About Whiskey
You Don't Love Me
Ridin' on the L & N
On the Other Side
New Delhi Freight Train
Blue Green Slime
Cactus Flower
Hot Corn Cold Corn
Aquatic Hitchhiker
Bass & Drums > Jam

Encore:
Gimme Da 'Ting That the Doctor Ordered Me

DECEMBER 30, 2023
Set 1:
Boogie Grass Band
Gulf of Mexico
Liza
Bend in the River
Brand New Good Old Days
Rocky Road Blues (with David Nelson)
Dim Lights, Thick Smoke (And Loud, Loud Music) (with David Nelson)
Teardrops in My Eyes (with David Nelson)
Last Lonely Eagle (with David Nelson)
Crooked Judge (with David Nelson)
Ashes of Love (with David Nelson)
Redneck Mother (with David Nelson)

Set 2:
All Night Ride
We’ll Get By
Tangled Up in Blue
This Is the Time
Rueben's Train
Bird Call
Crystal Meth Freak From California
The Hobo Song

Encore:
Better

DECEMBER 31, 2023
Set 1:
Down in the Hollow
Sing Up to the Moon
Show Me Something Higher
Dance on Your Head
Midnight Blues
Morning Sun
I’m Vaccinated and I’m Ready for Love (with Maria Muldaur)
Let’s Get Happy Together (with Maria Muldaur)
Richland Woman Blues (with Maria Muldaur)
Don’t You Feel My Leg (with Maria Muldaur)

Set 2:
Mama Boulet
Steam Powered Aeroplane
Simple Twist of Fate
Breakin’ Through
Never Been to Spain (with Matt Axton)
Stealin’ (with Matt Axton)
- NYE countdown –
Auld Lang Syne (singalong with audience)
Midnight at the Oasis (with Maria Muldaur)
Joseph’s Dream (Get No Better)
Fire and Brimstone
Black Peter
Morning Dew
Up on the Hill Where They Do the Boogie

Encore:
Euphoria   

“Best Damn Band We’re Ever Gonna Hear.”

Following the untimely death of Duane Allman, the Allman Brothers moved forward without dropping a beat. Brother Duane had died in late October 1971. Barely three weeks later, the band was back on stage in Upstate New York with a lineup composed of the remaining five original members – Gregg Allman on vocals and keyboard, Dickey Betts on guitar, Berry Oakley on bass, and drummers Butch Trucks and Jaimoe at the back of the stage. The “Five-Man Band” period, featuring Betts solely on lead guitar, lasted for just a few more months before Chuck Leavell joined to augment Gregg Allman on keys. Oakley died soon thereafter.

In April 1972, the short-lived “Five-Man Band” version of the Allman Brothers appeared at Manley Field House on the Syracuse University campus. Campus radio station WAER aired the show live. Bootlegs of the show have circulated for decades. Now, the band is at long last releasing this seminal show in the highest possible audio quality preserved from the direct source. The 11-track, two-disc CD will be available on January 12, 2024, from the Allman Brothers Band Recording Company.

“Eat a Peach,” the Allman Brothers’ fourth record, was released in February 1972, just a few months prior to this appearance. Only two cuts from that double-disc album (which featured both studio and live recordings) made the setlist at Manley Field House. Gregg Allman’s “Ain’t Wastin’ Time No More” was written for his brother, and it was a fitting inclusion to honor Duane’s absence. The blues classic “One Way Out” followed “Wastin’ Time” in the Syracuse show. The rest of the setlist draws from the band's earlier catalog.

Betts had taken on a revised role at this time. In the absence of Duane, the other guitar-playing “brother” had to take on many of the iconic slide parts in the group’s catalog. In one interview at the time, he said, “I did play some slide before Duane and I started working together but did not play very well. But after he got killed, I had to take over. Songs like ‘Statesboro Blues’ and some of the others would have sounded silly without it.” He also started singing more (although this record is all Gregg songs).

This recording captures Betts during the earliest phase of this period, and it is evident that indeed he had learned to play Duane’s licks admirably by this time. Betts pays worthy homage to Duane during the show opener at Manley Field House; “Statesboro Blues” is a song that leans heavily on its countrified slide melodies and solo. Likewise, “Done Somebody Wrong” gives Betts a chance to strut on a few bottleneck leads. And notably, Betts also contributed his original slide work in the Syracuse show during the tribute to Duane, “Ain’t Wastin’ Time No More.”

But those are the first three songs, and Betts sticks to his fingers on the frets for the bulk of the show after the three opening cuts.

Certainly, Betts sounds more relaxed and “in the zone” when his fingers, not a slide, are on the fretboard. His blues licks following Gregg’s organ solo on “Stormy Monday,” for instance, are as polished and emotional as ever. In “You Don’t Love Me,” Betts’ false-ending crescendo at the 5:10 mark gives way to some truly plaintive solo work (you can imagine the spotlight on him while the band stays quiet) before a reprise. As if that’s not enough, they take it all down again for yet one more jam to showcase their lone lead guitarist while Trucks and Jaimoe rebuild the energy from the ground up. This is classic Betts at his finest.

The Allman Brothers have had a plethora of amazing guitar players in their lineup, mostly two at a time (the latter-day version with Warren Haynes and Derek Trucks was notably delicious), but the Betts-only years had their own magic steeped in the blues maestro’s own blend of Southern comfort. Listeners who are not familiar with this era might miss the dueling and dueting guitars on “In Memory of Elizabeth Reed.” But on the other hand – lots more Dickey solos!

Unfortunately, the Allman Brothers have also had more than their fair share of stellar bass players, due to the passing of founding member Berry Oakley later in 1972. At Manley Hall, Oakley delivers a strong performance, particularly when holding the floor down during Gregg Allman’s solo on “Elizabeth Reed” and throughout the improv “Syracuse Jam” toward the end of the show. The latter peaks with Oakley high on the neck of his bass before the ensemble mellows into a spacey drum-heavy coda punctuated by Gregg’s organ. Oakley also has a thunderous bass solo in “One Way Out” that must have shaken the chandeliers all across the Syracuse University campus.

The way the mics captured Oakley may be the best thing about this recording. His Fender Jazz “Tractor” bass is prominent on every cut. It’s rare to truly "feel" the bass so clearly on a live recording from this era; kudos to the engineers for nailing it. Hard to say whether Oakley was stepping it up to fill Duane’s void, or if he’s more noticeable simply because there’s one fewer instrument on stage. Regardless, it’s a treat to reflect on his skill when listening to Manley Hall. Oakley fans in particular will relish this album.

Regrettably, the vocals and organ are often a bit muddied on Manley Hall. The recording does have a “bootleg” ambiance throughout. Fortunately, it’s easy to forgive the audio quality because the instrumentalization is so tight.

That being said, Gregg Allman shines more on organ than he does on vocals in this performance. The words are recited second-naturedly at points, but his Hammond is alive as ever with churchlike verve. Whether he felt overtly mournful for his dear departed brother during his “Stormy Monday” solo is unknowable, but it sure sounds like he is pouring his heart into every key.

The same can be said of “Midnight Rider.” With Betts singing along on the refrains, Allman’s vocal is strong, but it’s his organ that speaks loudest and tells more of the story. On the other hand, even after singing hundreds of “Whipping Posts” by this point, he sells the story to the Syracuse crowd like a rapturous itinerant preacher in the closing minutes. Even just going through the motions, there’s no blues singer like Gregg Allman.

Butch Trucks and Jaimoe are in fine form for this outing. Side-by-side drum kits have become a staple of the jam band circuit (and of course, the Grateful Dead had their Rhythm Devils too), but no duo has ever eclipsed the original Allman Brothers percussion team. A 90-minute show doesn’t afford Trucks and Jaimoe a lengthy drum break, but they do get a minute here and thirty seconds there unaccompanied by the rest of the band during the Syracuse show to stretch out.

The drummers are the real stars during the improv “Syracuse Jam” toward the end of the show. The interplay between Trucks and Jaimoe is joyous and bluesy, especially in the last minute of this unique jam. Oakley and Betts fill in the corners with tasty noodles to accompany the rhythmic interplay on this cut, which seems to have been played once and only once in the Allman Brothers' history.

A lively “Hot ‘Lanta” brings the show to a close. Following a barnstorming recital of the band's paradigmatic melody-led instrumental, Trucks and Jaimoe share one last, all-too-brief moment in the spotlight before the quintet says a melodic “goodnight.”

At just shy of 90 minutes, Manley Field House, Syracuse University, April 7, 1972, feels too brief. Perhaps not as short, of course, as the young lives of Duane Allman, whose absence was still notable at the time, and Berry Oakley, whose departure was imminent. But the “Five-Man Band” era was likewise short-lived, and we are fortunate to have this snapshot for our memory book.

Manley Field House, Syracuse University April 7, 1972 tracklist:

Disc One:

    Introduction
    Statesboro Blues
    Done Somebody Wrong
    Ain’t Wastin’ Time No More
    One Way Out
    Stormy Monday
    You Don't Love Me

Disc Two:

    In Memory Of Elizabeth Reed
    Midnight Rider
    Whipping Post
    Syracuse Jam
    Hot ‘Lanta

The Independent in San Francisco, hosted three up-and-coming bands for a night of funk and fun on Thursday, January 11, 2024.  If you’re looking to get a party started, keep it going, or make it last all night, you might want to check out Object Heavy, Boot Juice, and Litty deBungus.

Litty deBungus kicked off the evening’s festivities. This funk ensemble touts fellow Oakland natives Tower of Power as an influence, and that’s a good starting point to describe their bass-and-horns-infused soul. Santa Cruz singer Trianna Feruza shared the stage with Litty D, adding high-octane vocal fuel to the funk fire. Without catching a breath, Litty D threw down five songs from their 2023 eponymous album, closing with “She’s Got a Gun,” a raucous toe-tapper.

The middle of the funky three-band sandwich was Boot Juice, a NorCal octet from the Sierra Nevada Mountains. A little Edwin Sharpe, a little Trampled by Turtles, and a Whole Lotta Caffeine, I mean Love. Paint splattered pantsuits. Americana on steroids and/or espresso. Good times a’plenty!

Boot Juice jumped and jived with a hint of jazz and a bit of bluegrass, shaking their hips and everything else with Cali-Texan swing beats and oodles of youthful swagger. If they had iPhones in their pockets during this set, they each got in way more than 10,000 steps by the end of their 60-minute set. These Boots got Juice.

And dang it, the music is good! It’s fun, it’ll make you groove, and you’ll go nuts if you stop dancing long enough to try to figure out if it’s country, R&B, frenetic folk – or just a bunch of crazy kids who stayed up all night listening to mash-ups of Squirrel Nut Zippers and James Brown before deciding to start a band.

No dead bodies, just a lot of sweat and smiles. Bonus points for the matching coveralls and also for covering Jefferson Airplane’s first-album deep cut “High Flyin' Bird.” Joe-Bob says check it out.

Object Heavy hails from Arcata, a small town on the northern coast of California. Their sound is Heavy (hence, the name?). They’ve got the funk. They’ve got soul. They’ve got a well-polished groove.

Aptly named vocalist Richard Love glides effortlessly between tenor verses, falsetto choruses, and raise-the-roof screams of passion. A few songs in, he belts out “I Put a Spell on You” as powerfully as anyone who’s ever tried to put a spell on anyone. This is No-Foolin’-Around Time, and the shit gets real.    

The quartet that gives up the funk for Mr. Love to groove on is top-notch. Brian Swislow (keys), Leo Plummer (guitar) take turns on crafty solos when they’re not ch-chuck-ch-chucking classic funk rhythms. Drummer Dan Weiss doesn’t miss a beat, nor a backbeat for that matter.

The secret weapon in the Object Heavy arsenal is Ian Taylor. His pulse is rock steady – and man, can that cat lay down a solo! If the heart of a funk band is at the bottom, these guys have a big-ass bottom. (Is he the Object that is so Heavy?) During the guitar solo on “Sunshine,” a brand-new Object Heavy song, Taylor’s fingers were flying as fast as Plummer’s pick.

Three fun bands, lots of funk beats, and a good crowd eating it all up. Who can ask for more?

Check ‘em out:

Litty deBungus: https://littyd.com/
Boot Juice: https://www.bootjuicejams.com/
Object Heavy: https://objectheavymusic.com/

Oh, the stories we could tell about Yonder Mountain String Band.

We could talk about the first time I saw them. Around 1999 or 2000, I wanted to check out the storied NYC club Wetlands to see what all the fuss was about, and I’d heard about this hot up-and-coming bluegrass band from Colorado. Wetlands: Cool little place. But Yonder – wow! Mind blown.

But that’s not what I want to talk about today.

We could talk about the tragic loss of founding mandolin player Jeff Austin in 2019, a few years after he left the band due to "creative differences and conflicting career goals." Or about the Allie Kral period that followed Austin’s departure from Yonder, the band replacing his incomparable mandolin with a fiddle to keep the music moving forward. Or the more recent addition of Nick Piccininni on mandolin and fiddle, merging the instrument assortment from the two eras.

But that’s not what I want to talk about today.

I want to talk about one of those moments that make live music performances truly magical. Those once-in-a-while instances where something special happens to bond the artists on stage with the audience in a collaborative, memorable experience. And I will talk about that – in a moment.

First, I need to mention that the opening act at Yonder’s Sweetwater Music Hall set in Mill Valley on Friday, January 12, 2024, was Never Come Down, a Portland-based bluegrass quintet. Joe Suskind (guitar), Crystal Lariza (vocals), Brian Alley (banjo), Kaden Hurst (mandolin), and Ben Ticknor (bass) warmed up the crowd with a splendid eight-song set featuring originals sung by several members of the band in turn. Suskind, Hurst and Alley took turns soloing because, well, that’s bluegrass! And they do it well.   

Second, well, Yonder Mountain String Band. Actually, they come second to none. If you’ve seen them, you know. If not – go see them, man! Get on it! Dave Johnston (banjo), Ben Kaufmann (bass), Adam Aijala (guitar), and Nick Piccininni (fiddle and mandolin) all sing and play like old bluegrass souls, and the butt-kickin’ never ends for almost two hours at any typical Yonder show.

I could tell you how their set included fun covers like the Rolling Stones’ “No Expectations,” John Hartford's "Granny Wontcha Smoke Some Marijuana," and Jesse Stone’s “Don’t Let Go” (a familiar Jerry Garcia Band tune for many in the audience who sang along with the refrain). I could tell you they picked and fiddled as tight as ever. I could tell you they had a guest fiddler named Coleman Smith and that he and Piccininni had a lot of fun fiddling eye to eye. So much to tell!

I’d be remiss not to mention another guest, Tyree Woods, who played rhythm guitar for a few songs and sang his own original song “Monday” with Yonder backing. Tyree only has 53 followers on Spotify, so please go check him out and drive up that count, folks!

But here’s what I really want to talk about: The magic moment.

For the encore, Yonder brought Never Come Down on stage. Kaufmann announced that they’d be playing acoustic – no mics, no amps, no PA, He asked the audience to play a special instrument: “A really quiet one.” He told us to “Take a deep breath. No laughing.”

I have to pause here and note that many of us who go to the Sweetwater regularly know it has a reputation for hosting a talkative crowd. Bob Weir notably told a Sweetwater audience once to “Shut the fuck up” – and the club now sells a ton of “STFU” shirts with an image of Bob on them. So it gives me honor to report that the crowd at this show was immediately and entirely respectful of Kaufmann’s request.   

To tell the truth, I don’t remember the name of first encore song they played. (I’ll gladly edit this report if I find out.) But after that first encore song, Kaufmann asked the crowd to join in on the choruses of “Ooh La La,” the Faces hit with the familiar and poignant Ronnie Lane / Ron Wood lyric sung by Rod Stewart:

I wish that I knew what I know now, when I was younger
I wish that I knew what I know now, when I was stronger

Between choruses, each of the many soloists took a turn moving to the center of the stage to strut their stuff. Then another verse. And another chorus. Just a bunch of string instruments and a few hundred voices groovin’ on the same vibe at the same moment, all of us together like one big, happy family.

And that is what I wanted to talk about. These are the moments that make us go see live music – those treasured, transcendent moments. Not being at the scene, but all of us being part of the scene.   

2024 is going to be a great year for music, right? But right there in the Sweetwater, I knew this would be one of my favorite musical moments for the coming twelve months. We all knew it.

And that’s my story. May your 2024 be full of many such moments.

Old and In the Way were (ironically) mostly not old – and certainly not at all in anyone’s way! – when they gathered in 1973 to play about 50 live shows. Fiddler Vassar Clements, born in 1928 and having joined Bill Monroe and his Bluegrass Boys at 21, was still under 50. The other members of OAITW were only about 30 at the time, give or take a few years.

After spending a year with OAITW playing the banjo (the first stringed instrument he learned to play as a teen), Jerry Garcia soon returned his focus to playing guitar in the Grateful Dead and the Jerry Garcia Band. John Kahn, who had been playing bass for Garcia’s side projects since 1970, remained by Jerry’s side on stage and in the studio until they both passed away in the mid-1990s. Clements, who appeared on over 200 albums in his life, was never lacking in invitations to record or play live with other musicians. He died in 2005.

Guitar player and lead OAITW vocalist/yodeler Peter Rowan (who had also played for Bill Monroe) moved forward with a storied solo career. The same can be said for 'dawg' music pioneer and mandolin virtuoso David Grisman. Both of them continue to carry the bluegrass torch and each has also led numerous explorations into other avenues of folk, Americana, and jazz.

It’s now fair to categorize their classic album, recorded at San Francisco’s Boarding House, as 'old'. (Fun fact: the album was recorded by the “Wall of Sound” engineer and LSD impresario Stanley Owsley.)

But they’re still not in the way. Most definitely not in the “just ignore the old guys in the corner” way.

To the contrary, the original album was for decades the best-selling bluegrass record of all time – finally unseated by the “O Brother, Where Art Thou” soundtrack after more than 25 years. (Because, of course, all records are made to be broken!) It’s no exaggeration to observe that thousands and thousands of music fans, especially Deadheads, got turned on to bluegrass by OAITW.

Over the half century since OAITW played their last show, a few other live recordings have been released. Now David Grisman has produced Old & In The Way – Live At Sonoma State 11/4/73, available from Grisman’s own Acoustic Disc label. This Sunday afternoon show, one of OAITW’s final performances, was captured on tape by noted music photographer Ed Perlstein. The recording is available for download in Hi-Definition (24-bit, 96 kHz) sound, ensuring crisp and clear listening. The cover art explains that the download is “100% handmade.”

The album eases into “Going to the Races,” a ditty written and recorded by the Country Gentlemen in 1957. The intro and almost all of the first verse are missing; perhaps the tape machine started rolling a bit late. But after Rowan hits a few falsettos to establish his own “country gentleman” credentials, and with Kahn thumping out the low part of the high lonesome sound, the OAITW boys are off and running in high gear.

Most of the familiar tunes are here; “Panama Red,” “Wild Horses,” “Pig in a Pen,” and so on. Other songs like the classic fiddle tune “Orange Blossom Special” and Bob McDill’s “Catfish John” (a Jerry Garcia Band staple also recorded by the Dead) also make an appearance. Many of these tracks were omitted from the famous 1975 record but were included on last year’s four-disc set "Live at the Boarding House: The Complete Shows" (Acoustic Disc) and on a handful of other “official” releases over the years.

A handful of songs, on the other hand, have not appeared on any of the live releases to date. Grisman takes the lead vocal on “Eating Out of Your Hand,” a song originally written and recorded by Bill Harrell in 1960. It’s a jaunty song full of gusto, with high-flying solos in turn by Clements, Grisman, and Garcia. Grisman himself wrote “Fanny Hill,” a breathtaking instrumental that first appeared on his 1964 debut solo studio album.

Another pair of songs that have not appeared on any of the OAITW releases are sung by guest Ramblin’ Jack Elliott. (He is introduced without mention of being a “Ramblin’ man). “Tramp On the Street” was occasionally sung by Hank Williams, although he never recorded it. This song, written by Grady and Hazel Cole in the Depression era, was based on an 1877 poem titled "Only a Tramp" (by Dr. Addison Crabtree), and it asks the listener to consider if Jesus would get better treatment today than the homeless in your hometown. Pardon the meandering, but any song sung by Ramblin’ Jack deserves a ramblin’ introduction.

Elliott followed up with Jimmie Rodgers’ “Waiting for a Train.” The ramble here is that Rodgers had rewritten a song which originated in the 19th century in England. Many versions of the song were published in songbooks long before Rodgers took a stab. In the OAITW version, Elliott yodels, Clements swings, and it’s likely there were two-steppers dancing in the crowd at Sonoma State during this old-timey number. (Rodgers, and hence Elliott, may be forgiven for calling it “’Frisco.”)

The show ends with Rowan crooning “Midnight Moonlight” before the band takes off for a whirlwind ride on the aforementioned “Orange Blossom Special.” Clements does his masterful work on the finale to sound like an overly zealous train horn, while the rest of the band clickety-clacks the rhythm like steel wheels hustling down a mountainside on iron tracks.

It’s hard to imagine the young members of OAITW considering the timelessness of their performance that day. Here we are fifty years later, eagerly listening to these tunes and celebrating the auspicious contribution OAITW made to the bluegrass pantheon. This music may be old, but it ain’t in the way. It IS the way!

To purchase a download of this amazing album, visit Acoustic Disc - Old and In the Way Live at Sonoma State 11/4/73 Download.

TRACKLIST:

    Going to the Races
    Catfish John
    Eating Out of Your Hand
    Lonesome Fiddle Blues
    Land of the Navajo
    Old & in the Way Breakdown
    Panama Red
    Pig in a Pen
    Fanny Hill
    The Hobo Song
    Wild Horses
    White Dove
    Drifting Too Far from the Shore
    Uncle Pen
    High Lonesome Sound
    Tramp On the Street*
    Waiting for a Train*
    Midnight Moonlight
    Orange Blossom Special

What needs to be said about a little ol’ band from East L.A. called Los Lobos? Do we need to point out that they’ve played over 100 shows a year since they were founded 50 years ago? Does anyone really need to be reminded that they’ve recorded 17 studio albums, charted a #1 hit with their cover of “La Bamba,” and won multiple awards, including several Grammys?

Maybe the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame needs a reminder. Los Lobos was first nominated for inclusion in 2015, but the band has not yet been inducted. Omitting the most successful, most ass-kicking Mexican-American rock band from the ranks of that institution is a significant oversight, perhaps the most egregious among many absences from the Hall’s ranks. (We can argue about whether the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame really matters, but that doesn’t give the institution an excuse for this snub.)

After all, there aren’t many bands that can boast of a lineup that has four of its founding members after five decades. Are there any others?!

David Hidalgo (guitar, accordion, vocals), Cesar Rosas (guitar, vocals), Louie Pérez (guitar, jarana huasteca, drums, vocals), and Conrad Lozano (bass, vocals) founded Los Lobos in high school. The lineup for the first two years also included Frank González (vocals, mandolin, and arpa jarocha) and Richard Escalante (bass, vocals).

They named the band in tribute to norteño band Los Tigres del Norte, and at first they played both American Top 40 covers and traditional Mexican music. As the years went on, they began to write their own blended rock and roll music and developed a unique sound. By 1976, they were down to four members, but in 1982, Steve Berlin joined to play saxophone and keys. The baby of the band, he’s only been with them for, oh, four freakin’ decades.

Now on tour celebrating 50 years together, Los Lobos appeared at the JaM Cellars Ballroom in Napa, CA, on Saturday, January 13, 2024. The audience included many Los Lobos veteran fans, some of whom boasted of seeing them dozens of times, and also newbies hoping to hear their favorite song. The band may or may not have played everyone’s favorite song, but there is no doubt everyone left knowing they’d spent over two hours watching one of America’s greatest rock and roll bands.

Rosas wore his trademark Ray-Bans. Hidalgo wailed on his Strat. Bass player Lozano spent most of the set sitting in front of the drum kit on his amp. He’s reportedly had knee issues for the past several years, and since at least 2021 (perhaps longer) he’s been performing this way. His enthusiastic playing remains as vibrant as ever – whatever energy he’s not putting into standing goes into his fingers.

With relatively new drummer Alfredo Ortiz on drums behind them, the five core members spread across the stage to deliver two sets of music spanning their history and interweaving their Mexican and American heritages. The first set opened with "Will the Wolf Survive?" – a rocker from Los Lobos’ 1984 breakthrough album of the almost-same name. Later in the set, they threw down "Los Chucos Suaves," a big-band’ish Latin jazz number written by “Father of Chicano Music”

Lalo Guerrero in the 1940s. This was one of several songs in the JaM Cellars show from 2021’s "Native Sons," Los Lobos’ most recent, mostly-covers album. “Flat Top Joint,” originally a Blasters song (also from "Native Sons"), closed the set.

The second set opened with “Evangeline,” another track from "How Will the Wolf Survive." Dancers two-stepped in the back of the hall. Deadheads (Los Lobos draws many of them) swayed in Deadhead fashion, thrilled as ever to hear the song many of them know from Jerry Garcia’s cover version with his solo band. Later in the show, Rosas reminded the audience, “Don’t forget to boogie!” They needed no reminder.

Hidalgo traded in his guitar for an accordion to play “Kiko and the Lavender Moon.” With a traditional Mexican folk music rhythm, “Kiko” describes a cat who “plays and plays, still playing till he goes off to sleep.” Hmmm, that could apply just as well to everyone in Los Lobos.

Following that, Pérez (who spent time behind the drum kit during a span in Los Lobos’ early years) gave Ortiz a break and took over the kit for three songs. One of these was “Mexico Americano,” which Rosas introduced: “This next song goes out to César Chávez and Dolores Huerta.” Originally released by Los Pingüinos del Norte in 1970, the lyrics are yet another perfect description of Los Lobos themselves. Here’s the lyric, sung in Spanish (but with English translation):

"Por mi madre, yo soy mexicano, por destino, soy americano
(Because of my mother, I'm Mexican, by destiny, I'm an American)
Yo soy de la raza de oro, yo soy México Americano
(I am of the golden race, I am Mexican American)

Yo te comprendo el inglés, también te hablo en castellano
(I understand your English, I also speak to you in Spanish)
Yo soy de la raza de noble, yo soy México Americano
(I am of the noble race, I am Mexican American)"

The second set closed with “Georgia Slop,” a boogie-down 12-bar rocker. Berlin’s baritone sax held the bottom with foghorn pomp during the verses, and his solo gave a 1950’s “At the Hop” vibe.

For an encore, Los Lobos delivered some familiar goods. A lot of fans probably got to hear their favorite song during the final twenty minutes. First, Los Lobos teased “Not Fade Away,” giving the audience a chance to show their familiarity with the lyrics. (Spoiler alert: not everyone got a passing grade.) Diehard fans knew that the 90 seconds of the Buddy Holly classic was an intro for the Los Lobos cover of “Bertha.” With the stormy weather outside, the lyric was perhaps never so poignant:

"Ran into a rainstorm, ducked into a bar door
It was all night pouring, but not a drop on me"

Next, an odd synchronicity: my wife, who was in New York this weekend to see Dead cover band Joe Russo’s Almost Dead, texted me to say they’d played “Vampire Blues,” a Neil Young song. I kid you not that at the very moment I read her text, Los Lobos played the first chord of “Cinnamon Girl.” Whoa, dude.

To send the audience home, Los Lobos ended the encore with their biggest hit, a cover of Richie Valens’ “La Bamba.” Many of those who weren’t dancing held their phones up to catch the moment on video. The song segued into another early rock and roll hit, “Good Lovin’” (yes, also covered by the Dead, so the Deadheads were happy again) before coming back to let the crowd sing the last verse of “La Bamba.” (Again, mixed grades.) Finally, with a big blues coda as a send-off flourish, Los Lobos said goodnight, adios, see you later.

Do they have another decade in them? How long will the wolf survive? All we know is they are still running, still kicking butts, and as deserving as ever of accolades for being a rock and roll treasure. And that’s something worth talking about.

Hot Buttered Rum (HBR) kicked off 2024 with a celebration of its silver anniversary at the Sweetwater in Mill Valley on Saturday, January 27, 2024. Yes, the NorCal bluegrass band and left-coast jam festival staple has been around for 25 years – congrats, boys!

This was essentially a homecoming show. Founding HBR members Erik Yates (banjo, Dobro, flute, vocals) and Bryan Horne (bass, vocals) grew up in Mill Valley. On stage, Yates pointed out that Horne had been the homecoming prince at Tamalpais High School and also captain of the water polo team. Their fellow HBR founder, Nat Keefe (guitar, vocals), said, “It’s definitely a hometown show. The Sweetwater is Bob Weir’s clubhouse; in a smaller way, it feels like the same thing to us. We’ve got all our friends and family here, and the whole thing is easy and fun.”

Bluegrass is a tradition that respects its elders and also welcomes new blood. HBR now straddles the line between its storied youth and well-deserved OG status. Befitting this well-deserved passage into its second quarter century, HBR booked up-and-comers Broken Compass Bluegrass (BCB) to open the Sweetwater show. In keeping with the generation-melding ethos of bluegrass, HBR invited members of BCB on stage for a large portion of the headliners’ set.

To be clear, HBR is not strictly an old-timey, traditional bluegrass band. With flute, drums, and keyboards in the mix, HBR is perhaps more representative of “newgrass.” As Yates told an interviewer a few years ago, the band is named after the popular winter beverage: “The first few times we tried to make it, it turned out all runny and strange, but we worked out the recipe. I think we figured out the music better too, eventually.”

BCB, on the other hand, hews close to the bluegrass bone. Kyle Ledson (mandolin, vocals), Django Ruckrich (guitar, vocals), Mei Lin Heirendt (fiddle, vocals), and Sam Jacobs (bass, vocals) are young in years. (I’m pretty sure at least a few of them wouldn’t be allowed in a bar if they weren’t performing.) But they seem to have old souls, and they play their instruments like seasoned veterans. As young musicians performing in various ensembles over the past decade-plus, they’ve each spent ample time on stage wowing audiences with precocious, pleasing picking. They’ve been together as BCB since 2021, and each passing year has made them tighter, wiser, and more endearing.

It's fun to see a band grow. Over 25 years, HBR has had some personnel changes, and the addition of keyboards and drums along the way gave new life to old songs while also paving new avenues to explore. BCB is at the beginning of that journey. “We are always molding and experimenting with new songs and sounds,” says Ledson. Their opening set included a number of new tunes that will likely end up on their second studio album, to be recorded in the next few months.

Bluegrass fans take note: Ledson is a beast on mandolin, and Heirendt sings and fiddles like an early-20th-century Appalachian queen. After those two knock your boots off, Ruckrich’s picking is sure to rock your socks. His guitar solo when he jumped on stage with HBR late in the evening got the crowd’s biggest hoots and hollers of the night. With Jacobs holding down the floor, these aren’t kids playing with matches; they’re lighting everything on fire!

Rising luminary Jessica Malone also joined HBR to sing some songs at the Sweetwater show. Nat Keefe produced Malone’s soon-to-be-released album, and she sang “On & On & On,” a track they co-wrote for the album. Malone also sang a sprightly version of Cyndi Lauper’s classic “Girls Just Want To Have Fun.” Keefe said later, “The thing about playing a banger like that is, what do you play after it?!” They figured it out, and the crowd ate up every song.

Perhaps it’s best from here on in to let the folks on stage tell the rest of the story.

NAT KEEFE: "We got to the venue super early and rehearsed a bunch of new stuff. I was especially excited to do my new song 'Rearview Mirror.' The gist of it came from something my wife and I would say when we were first dating: 'I just want a lover.' Our relationship ended up becoming the whole package with kids, marriage, and a house, but still, sometimes we try to just be lovers."

JESSICA MALONE: "I got back from a very fun and creative vacation in Mexico on Friday. Woke up in L.A. Saturday and drove straight to Mill Valley for the show!"

NAT KEEFE: "A highlight of the set was that Jessica went out of her way on her drive back from L.A. to sit in on a few songs with us. We love that woman, I couldn't respect her musicality more, and her hustle and ambition as well!"

JESSICA MALONE: "It was an amazing show, the vibes were high, and I am so glad I made the drive to be a part of it!"

MEI LIN HEIRENDT: "Playing at the Sweetwater was such an honor. It’s definitely been a venue that’s been on our bucket list for a while now, especially given all the legends who have performed there before us."

DJANGO RUCKRICH: "The Sweetwater is definitely a huge bucket list venue for us. We’re all super excited to share this new batch of original music."

KYLE LEDSON: "Stoked to be back at the Sweetwater. I played here once before when I was 16 years old with Nat [Keefe] and Bryan [Horne]. Finally getting to do it all again with my Broken Compass family will be one of those nights that will live in our memories forever."

NAT KEEFE: "I’ve known Kyle since he was a wee little boy, just beginning with mandolin, and I’ve been lucky enough to mentor him a bit along the way and produce a couple of his albums. We’ve definitely made the transition from mentor/mentee to being friends/peers. Especially since he can play circles around me!"

KYLE LEDSON: "I’m grateful for HBR helping us break down some of these impenetrable venue walls so we can have a chance to do our own thing and connect with an audience that digs string band music."

MEI LIN HEIRENDT: "The guys in [HBR] are some of the kindest, most encouraging mentors/friends. We are so stoked to get to open for them and sit in with them on our Colorado tour in late March."

NAT KEEFE: "It’s fun to be with a band who is in a similar place that we were in 20 years ago. Perhaps, with other musicians, this is humbling or threatening, but I get a lot of energy and satisfaction from seeing these guys thrive."

DJANGO RUCKRICH: "HBR is one of our favorite bands that we’ve looked up to for a long time, and they’ve been such great friends and mentors to us."

KYLE LEDSON: "We are always molding and experimenting with new songs and sounds. Also, we keep a list of material we’ve played live at shows. It’s over 12 hours of music which makes our performances and free-flowing setlists more entertaining to us as artists. Nothing gets too stale that way."

MEI LIN HEIRENDT: "We’ll be launching a Kickstarter in the next month or so to gather support for recording, pressing, and distributing this album as independent artists. Keeping our creative rights and having full control over when and how we release music is something that’s really important to us, so we’re trying to stay independent for as long as we can."

MEI LIN HEIRENDT: "In March, Kyle and I will be doing our opening set with BCB each night as well as being HBR’s fiddle and mandolin player for their string band sets. Lots to look forward to, and we’re so grateful for all the folks who have helped us along the way. We’re just getting started!"

KYLE LEDSON: "Momentum is building and we’re loving every single minute of it."

NAT KEEFE: "In March, we are doing five shows in Colorado with Broken Compass Bluegrass as ‘Hot Buttered Rum String Band.’ Kyle and Mei Lin are going to play in HBRSB. It is Hot Buttered Rum’s 25th year as a band, and our 23rd anniversary of touring Colorado, so a ski town and Front Range tour sounds good to me."

JESSICA MALONE: "[HBR] are wonderful human beings and I am always grateful for any opportunity to share the stage with them. I also adore Broken Compass Bluegrass as people and love the music they make."

Mark Knopfler’s voice never sounded young. The Dire Straits frontman was in his late twenties when the timeless hit “Sultans of Swing” took over the airwaves in England and the U.S. in 1978. It was easy then to imagine the singer was himself a member of the storied bar band of which he sang; a time-tested musical soul-blowing Dixie double four time in a local dive bar decade after decade.

With over 40 years in the rearview mirror, Knopfler’s 10th solo album One Deep River underscores the timelessness of his voice as well as the depth and poignancy of his songwriting. One Deep River also continues Knopfler’s masterful string of bluesy British Americana – he may hail from the U.K., but few classic rock artists have traversed the landscape of the former Colonies with equal aplomb. Elvis Costello’s comes to mind in a similar “Brit’mericana” vein.

One Deep River was produced by Knopfler and his longstanding collaborator Guy Fletcher and recorded at his own studio in London. All the songs were written by Knopfler. The album will be released by Knopfler’s British Grove label via Blue Note/EMI on April 12. Options for purchase will include CD, a double gatefold vinyl, cassette, and a special limited-edition box set (which will include the album on both vinyl and CD with nine exclusive bonus tracks on LP and CD, plus a litho print of Knopfler, a guitar pick set and tin and an enamel badge).

'Take note: if you are a Dire Straits fan looking for guitar wizardry and fast-picking jams like “Sultans” or “Telegraph Road,” keep strolling – or better yet, take time to let One Deep River seep into your soul. Knopfler’s latest, like most of his solo catalog, is closer to Strait, George than it is to Straits, Dire. (For the record, Dire Straits only released six LPs; this, however, is Knopfler’s ninth solo record since leaving his Dire Straits days behind in 1995. His entire solo catalog is worth a listen.)

“Two Pairs of Hands” kicks off the new album with a few instantly recognizable Knopfler licks. Over a lazy JJ Cale-ish shuffle, Knopfler says he’s “Keeping balls in the air, trying to keep up with the band.” It’s clear however that Knopfler isn’t lagging. “Two Pairs of Hands” sets the tone for the album, a collection of lyrical tunes appreciated more for Knopfler’s voice and words than for his licks.

Even so, it’s worth noting the excellence of the band accompanying Knopfler. Jim Cox and Guy Fletcher play keys, Glenn Worf provides the bass, and Ian Thomas and Danny Cummings add the drums and percussion, respectively. The instrumentation is rounded out on various tunes with Richard Bennett on additional guitar, Greg Leisz on pedal and lap steel, Mike McGoldrick on whistle and uilleann pipes, and John McCusker on fiddle. The Topolski sisters, Emma and Tamsin, add backing vocals.

Opening track “Ahead of the Game” comes out of the dock with pistons pumping. It’s a rolling riverboat of a song that chugs downriver with a steady heartbeat. Next comes “Smart Money,” one of the album’s best tracks – a soft lilt that sprinkles a melody like summer rain landing on a porch roof. The pedal steel in the middle and the accompanying piano sweeten the pot, but it’s the lyrical hook that makes this one an earworm: “The smart money ain’t on your dog now.”  

“Tunnel Thirteen” picks up where Dire Straits’ “Telegraph Road” … began. This tune leaves the station at a slow and steady pace. It never picks up speed, but the tale is full of steam. It’s the longest track on the record, and it tells of “three bandits waiting, with evil in mind” who are “still jumping freight trains … a hundred years later.” (Trains are a frequent topic in Knopfler’s Brit’mericana oeuvre; another track on One Deep River is “Before My Train Comes.”)

Like many of the tracks on this record, "Tunnel Thirteen" is Knopfler recounting how the more things change, the more they stay the same. Even the outro instrumental part keeps the pace, a haunting melody defined more by a refrain of steady and somber harmonies rather than ferocious guitar licks kicking up dust.

Like much of the record, “This One’s Not Going to End Well” is front-porch lazy day music, but with lyrics that underscore the album’s poignant theme of stability in the face of change:

This one’s not going to end well
But after he’s gone
The traders will trade
Flyers will fly
Seafarers will ride on the swell

The album is named after its closing song. Certainly, “One Deep River” might conjure the Mississippi for many listeners, but in fact, it refers to the river Tyne in Knopfler’s childhood home city of Newcastle, England. “Crossing the Tyne is always on your mind,” he says. “It’s what you were doing when you were leaving as a youngster and that feeling is always the same every time you do it. You’re heading out or you’re coming back, and it just connects with your childhood. The power of it doesn’t go away.”

Many old timers have said the same about the Mississippi and many other rivers.

In fact, the same might be said of Knopfler’s songs throughout his career: they’re what you were listening to when you were a youngster, and that feeling is always the same every time you hear it. From his Dire Straits days through several decades of solo albums, Mark Knopfler’s voice may sound like a faded pair of ancient jeans. It’s never grown old – it just is old, in a timeless, wise, and wonderous sense. It’s a voice many of us listened to for decades. And whether we’re heading out or coming back, the power of Knopfler’s storytelling hasn’t gone away.

Lukas Nelson and Promise of the Real (POTR) commanded the stage on Thursday, February 29, the second of two jam- and fan-packed nights at San Francisco’s Fillmore Auditorium.

For over two hours, Nelson and Co. delivered a ton of butt-kicking rock and roll, oodles of Texas stomp and swagger, and a healthy dose of mellow sweetness to round out the flavor. A surprise appearance by Bob Weir was icing on the cake.

Nelson kicked off the evening by introducing his longtime friend Lily Meola for her opening set. Meola, a 2022 “America’s Got Talent” finalist, sang a suite of heartfelt originals, accompanied by Bre Kennedy and Melissa Fuller on guitars and picture-perfect harmonies. Nelson joined her to sing “Daydream,” the song that earned Meola a “golden buzzer” from AGT’s Heidi Klum.

Meola also sang some new songs, including one for her mother that brought tears to her own eyes as she crooned, “I’ll keep on sending these postcards to heaven.” She also played a short version of Dolly Parton’s “Jolene,” which Meola said was the winner of a poll on her Instagram page. “We don’t really know it, but we learned the first verse for you.”

Nelson and POTR kicked off their headlining set with “Entirely Different Stars.” POTR (Tato Melgar, percussion; Anthony LoGerfo, drums; Corey McCormick, bass and vocals; and Logan Metz, keyboards, lap steel, harmonica, and vocals) hit the ground running, keeping pace with Nelson as he whipped through the first of many notable guitar solos. In his wide-brimmed cowboy hat, wire-rimmed glasses, and a sleek, black western button-down shirt, Lukas looked every part the modern country-rock star.

Switching between a Fender Strat and a Gibson Les Paul as the night progressed, Nelson’s blues-based guitar riffs marry the tone of Neil Young’s electric sound with the melodic scales and melodies of George Harrison and Nelson’s father, Willie. He's no slouch; some people might even call him a Rock God. (To be fair, some of those people might be as enamored by his movie star looks every bit as much as his virtuoso playing.)

Later in the set, Nelson got an extra cheer during “(Forget About) Georgia” when he sang the line, “We made love for the first time in a hotel in San Franciso.” (Side note: The last time Nelson was on stage at the Fillmore was a two-night stand with his father Willie’s band in January 2020, just before the Covid outbreak – and yes, during that run they played Ray Charles “Georgia on My Mind,” an inspiration for Lukas’s tune.)

After thirty minutes of POTR jams, Nelson gave POTR a break and played a few songs by himself, first on acoustic guitar and then on piano. The first of these was “All the Pretty Horses,” which provides ample proof that the apple didn’t fall too far from the gifted songwriting tree. When Lukas sings that he’s “riding on a trail that my father left me,” the genetic hand-me-downs from Willie are palpable. And truly, the son sounds most like his father when he sings the mellow shit.

Shortly after “Horses,” Lily Meola joined Nelson for a harmonious cover of Simon and Garfunkel’s “Homeward Bound.” This was followed by Nelson, alone on stage again, singing his exquisite love song, “Just Outside of Austin” (which he’d played with the full band the night before). Before bringing the band back, he stayed at the piano for a rendition of David Bowie’s “Life on Mars,” which showcased his nearly flawless falsetto on the Thin White Duke’s FM radio classic.

Lukas’s brother Micah, who performs as Particle Kid (and accompanies POTR when the band goes on tour to back Neil Young), made an appearance next to take the lead on his own anthemic singalong “Everything is Bullshit.” He returned for the encore later too.

After a trio of Nelson’s Texas cowpunk rockers (“Every Time I Drink,” “Wrong House,” and “Ladder of Love”), POTR ripped through Willie’s “Bloody Mary Morning.” This was followed by Nelson’s own “Find Yourself,” which currently occupies the top spot on POTR’s Spotify page. Lukas has indeed carved out his own songwriting and performance path, and “Find Yourself” is among the best examples of his gifted craftwork. On this soulful rocker, Nelson turns into a preacher – and the audience rapturously sings along when he calls on the congregation to join in:

I hope you find yourself
Before I find somebody else to be my love

The 75-minute main set ended with “Set Me Down on a Cloud.” But POTR was just getting started.

A 40-minute (!) encore began with the entirety of Pink Floyd’s “Echoes.” Nelson’s brother Particle Kid joined POTR on lap steel on the timeless album track from 1971’s Meddle. POTR was watertight as they waded through the slow build and rose to a crescendo of power chords. The Nelson brothers could make serious money touring as a Pink Floyd cover band, no doubt!

As if that wasn’t enough, Bob Weir’s unexpected walk-on gave the crowd a reason to lift their cell phones to capture the moment on video. With Weir and Nelson trading solos, they covered the Hunter-Garcia original “West L.A. Fadeaway” and Buddy Holly’s classic (and oft-played Dead encore) “Not Fade Away.”

As if it was all over, POTR and Weir took a bow – but even then, Nelson wasn’t quite done. After Weir walked offstage, Nelson looked at his fellow bandmates and said, “Okay, what the hell, let’s play another one!” They closed the show with Nelson’s “Something Real”:

I'm begging you to give me something real, babe!

Lukas Nelson and POTR are not a bag of empty promises. They’re the real deal, and the fans got what they came for. A Rock God indeed!

SET LIST:
Entirely Different Stars
Sticks and Stones
Alcohallelujah
Fool Me Once
Piano Explosion of Goodness
(Forget About) Georgia
Icarus
Carolina
Die Alone
All the Pretty Horses
Lying
Homeward Bound (Simon & Garfunkel cover, with Lily Meola)
Just Outside of Austin
Life on Mars (David Bowie cover)
A Few Stars Apart
Everything Is Bullshit (with Particle Kid)
Every Time I Drink
Wrong House
Ladder of Love
Bloody Mary Morning (Willie Nelson cover)
Find Yourself
Set Me Down on a Cloud

Encore:
Echoes (Pink Floyd cover)
West L.A. Fadeaway (Grateful Dead cover, with Bob Weir)
Not Fade Away (The Crickets cover, with Bob Weir)
Something Real

Here’s guitarist Charlie Hunter, live on stage at HopMonk Tavern Novato this week, speaking for himself and drummer Scott Amendola.

“We can still get excited at our age.”

They have much to be excited about!

If you haven’t seen Charlie Hunter play, you might not have experienced the cognitive dissonance that underscores his genius. Standing in the back of a crowded club, you’ll hear his impressive jazz guitar licks. You’ll also hear the steady funk bass that provides a consistent counterpoint. Fair enough, you’ll say. Sounds like a good band. A really good band.

But it’s not until you saunter up (or claw your way up, if it’s crowded) to the front of the stage that it dawns on you: the guy playing those complex melodic leads… is also playing the bass lines. At the same time. On the same instrument.

If you look closer, you’ll see his Ralph Novak eight-string solid-body guitar has two cords, one running to a guitar amp and one to a bass cabinet. And then you’ll start looking at his fingers, and – well, it’s indescribable. It’s like he’s got two brains and four hands.

How the heck does he do it?

And the whole time, he’s got an ear-to-ear shit-eating grin. (Except when it turns into a comical old prospector’s scowl.)

“Scott and I have been playing together for 30 years. Not every day, but… you know.”

In the 90s, Amendola and Hunter were fixtures on the Bay Area music landscape. Their band T.J. Kirk, with Will Bernard and John Schott rounding out the quartet on guitars, was in the vanguard of the avant-garde jazz funk scene. Known and named for their oeuvre of songs by James Brown, Thelonious Monk, and Rahsaan Roland Kirk. They had to change their name when the owners of the rights to the "Star Trek" empire threatened lawsuits over the original moniker "James T. Kirk."

In the years since, Amendola has played with a cavalcade of luminaries in many genres, including Nels Cline, Tony Furtado, and Phil Lesh. He remains one of the go-to drummers for NorCal jam-adjacent jazz world.

Together, Hunter and Amendola are a formidable pair.

You can’t deny their chops: Amendola studied at Berklee School of Music in Boston, while Berkeley CA high schooler Hunter took lessons from guitar hero Joe Satriani. Put them together and it’s more than the sum of its parts; there’s magic and passion in the air. They thrive on music, and it seems like they love each other as well. After nearly every song, they fist-bumped.

For two lengthy sets at HopMonk Tavern, Amendola and Hunter traded solo spotlights and floated on each other’s blissful and sublime riffs and rhythms. Hunter’s face alternated between his winking Cheshire Cat grin and his teeth-gritting, eye-squinting grimace. Amendola was perennially on the verge of laughter.

They covered the gamut from soul to bluesy jazz standards to the Beatles (“You Can’t Do That”). A very bluesy, slowed-down version of an Amendola original teased “Natty Dread” to fulfill a request shouted from the audience.

There was a set list on the stage, but it was more like a “serving suggestion”; the duo hopscotched through the list, skipping some, adding others, and doing nothing in order. The first song on the list was Lorde’s “Royals,” but they saved that for the encore. Many of the audience members joined in on the chorus to sing the words that Hunter was enunciating with his fluid picking.

Amendola’s frequent percussion solos were a particular delight. His playful circuits around the surfaces of his drum kit were entrancing journeys, ever light and airy, sometimes silly, and always inventive.

The old friends wrapped their own music and the plethora of covers in a unique blend of improvised grooviness and goofiness and tied it all together with mad skills. Two cats makin’ music, joyful the sound. A sold-out crowd took the vibe home with them.

There is a legion of Sleater-Kinney fans who were big fans of the Olympia, WA, riot grrrl trio long before founding member Carrie Brownstein turned her attention to acting and starred with SNL alum Fred Armisen in the offbeat television sketch comedy show “Portlandia.” (Sleater-Kinney was in the middle of a six-year hiatus at the time.)

The band also has a somewhat smaller but significant number of newer and younger fans who discovered Sleater-Kinney because they heard the cult-fave actress from “Portlandia” (she also had a recurring role on “Transparent” starting in 2014) was in a punk rock band.

Both sets of fans, the “OGs” and the young’uns, were in the house at Sleater-Kinney’s Warfield Theatre show in San Francisco on Saturday night. And both sets of fans were rewarded with a stirring performance that combined well-known songs from their 30+-year career with nearly the entirety of tracks from “Little Rope,” Sleater-Kinney’s eleventh studio album.

Sleater-Kinney was in studio writing songs and recording “Little Rope” when Brownstein's mother and stepfather died in a car accident in late 2022. Completing the record was a challenge, and the songs written in the aftermath of Brownstein’s family tragedy are heavily tinged with grief.

The set-opening “Hell” sets the tone for the new album, and it also summarized what to expect during the hour-and-45-minute show:

Hell don't have no future
Hell don't have no past
Hell don't have no worries
We're gonna live at last

With their dueling Gibson guitars – Brownstein playing an SG and Corin Tucker a Les Paul – Sleater-Kinney’s frontwomen strutted like seasoned rock stars. Which, of course, they are. Brownstein in particular made ample use of the available acreage on stage. (The rest of the band, including drummer Angie Boylan and two multi-instrumentalists, was set up several feet behind the two singers.) She pogoed around, pranced, and posed like a rock guitar goddess. Which, of course, she is. Brownstein frequently came over to Tucker’s side of the stage for Instagram-ready silhouette juxtapositions of the two bandleaders on the backlit platform. At one point (during “The Fox”), Brownstein even did Pete Townshend-like windmills.

Both singers were in fine vocal form. Brownstein’s well-honed indie swagger (often channeling Patti Smith’s delivery) and Tucker’s soprano punk crooning haven’t mellowed one drop. Tucker has a quality that sounds theatrical, operatic, melodic, and punk – all at the same time. Her distinctive 90’s grunge rock voice soars and screams on lyrics like this one from “Jumpers”:

Lonely as a cloud
In the Golden State
The coldest winter that I ever saw
Was the summer that I spent …

“Jumpers” drew one of the biggest cheers of the night. It’s a melancholy song that openly discusses suicidality. It’s also one of two songs Brownstein says she wrote while living in San Francisco, and the song’s references to the city and its famous bridge are enough to warm the hearts of locals, regardless of the subject matter.  

Suicide. Grief. Hell. Sleater-Kinney is not afraid to confront their demons. On “Dress Yourself,” another new track, Tucker sings, “The wreck of you is on display.” Put it all together and it could be depressing. But somehow, it isn’t. Sleater-Kinney’s music is a release of emotion, not a pent-up reflection of unresolved turmoil. Their songs are poignant but also cathartic.

Their songs are also loud. Especially in concert. It’s hardcore rock and roll, rarely calm and often bordering on (but never veering into) chaos. Sleater-Kinney’s music is grounded on powerful riffs and in-your-face guitars backed by crashing cymbals and thunderous tom-toms.

Some longtime fans might miss Janet Weiss, the founding drummer who left in 2019 and whose John Bonham-esque performances earned her a spot on numerous “Best Drummers of All Time” lists. Angie Boylan was admirable on the skins, but she’s got big shoes to fill.  

Sleater-Kinney’s biggest hit, “Modern Girl,” came near the end of the set. So often at big concerts these days, there is one song that brings out the cell phones for video; this was that song. Brownstein told the audience that this one too (as with “Jumpers”) was written in San Francisco. More cheers.

The main set ended with the closing track from “Little Rope.” “Untidy Creature” asked, “Could you love me if I was broken?” The answer, also in the lyrics, encapsulated the entire show:

There's no going back tonight

The appreciative crowd earned a four-song encore. Sleater-Kinney might be broken, but the fans will always love them for it.

Earlier in the evening, Boston’s Palehound played an opening set.  They may not take over the world, but they’re much better than just a “sell some beer” opener.

Palehound was originally a solo recording act by singer and songwriter El Kempner (who celebrated a birthday at The Warfield on Saturday). Now a touring quartet, the band treated the audience to a lively, lo-fi, punk-infused set.

Kempner and Co.‘s guitar-heavy sound is drenched in the Pixies, dripping with Elliott Smith, and has hints of alt-emo cult fave Sparklehorse. (Perhaps even their name was derived from the latter?) They opened with “Good Sex,” the opening track on the 2023 album “Eye on the Bat,” which exemplifies Kempner’s wry lyrical creativity:

Bad sex makes a good joke
That anyone can get
But good sex makes a bad joke
That's only funny if you were there

Palehound. Grab a beer — or a kombucha — and check them out.

Between the two acts, Rachel Dispenza did a short set of comedy. It’s no coincidence that they are Sleater-Kinney’s merch manager; the band and crew went to see Dispenza perform during an off night on tour – and they liked it so much that they invited them to open up a few shows. (Which says something really cool about the band!) Dispenza said afterward that they got the biggest cheer of their career from the San Francisco crowd, who were warm to their deadpan humor and bisexual identity content.

SLEATER-KINNEY SETLIST

1. Hell   NEW
2. Needlessly Wild  
3. Bury Our Friends
4. The Center Won't Hold
5. Small Finds   
6. Get Up
7. All Hands on the Bad One
8. Hunt You Down   
9. Hurry On Home
10. One More Hour
11. Don’t Feel Right   
12. Start Together
13. Can I Go On
14. Jumpers   
15. Six Mistakes   
16. Dress Yourself
17. The Fox
18. A New Wave
19. Modern Girl   
20. Untidy Creature

Encore:
22. Good Things
23. Say It Like You Mean It
24. Dig Me Out
25. Entertain

The Infamous Stringdusters should be way more famous.

Not to say they haven’t earned numerous accolades, including a Grammy win for Best Bluegrass Album in 2018. The quintet also tops the bill at many string-based festivals. While perhaps not yet a “household name” in the bluegrass pantheon, the Stringdusters may be the worst-kept secret in the genre.

Their “stringdusting,” which may or not have anything to do with infamy, has also earned them a hardcore fanbase – including many who attended a pair of shows on Thursday and Friday at Mill Valley’s Sweetwater. (A license plate spelling out “DUSTERS,” with a heart replacing the “U,” was spotted in the parking lot, a testament to their fans’ devotion.)

Like so many bands of note, the Stringdusters trace their roots to a meeting of minds and strings at Boston’s Berklee College of Music. (Goose and Lettuce share a similar history.) Banjo player Chris Pandolfi, dobro player Andy Hall, and former guitarist Chris Eldridge soon joined forces in Nashville with Jesse Cobb (mandolin) and Jeremy Garrett (fiddle). Travis Book auditioned for bass, and the Infamous Stringdusters were on their way.

That was 2006. Since then, Cobb has departed, and Andy Falco has replaced Eldridge on guitar. (Eldridge left in 2007 to join the Punch Brothers.) Now a five-man band, the Stringdusters put on exciting shows that blend traditional bluegrass with jam-inspired “newgrass.” They’re not only virtuoso pickers; they’re also fun to watch, full of smiles and often crisscrossing the stage to stand behind whoever is soloing at the moment.

The solos are, of course, spectacular. Garrett’s fiddling is particularly outstanding. Just when you think he’s reached the peak, he goes higher, and the entire band circles around to egg him on. Dobro player Hall, who looks like he’d be at home on stage with any alt-rock band, is also a monster. His leads are both fluid and fierce.

A common thread in many bluegrass bands – and fanbases – these days is a tangential relationship to the music of the Grateful Dead, and likewise to the American roots music that the Dead included in their repertoire. Certainly, there are a lot of hippies out there who first discovered bluegrass via Garcia’s participation in Old and in the Way, the supergroup that also included newgrass pioneer David Grisman.

This relationship is notably strong in Stringduster-land.

At the Sweetwater, the Stringdusters paid homage to those roots with several songs, including “Deep Elem Blues,” Johnny Cash’s “Big River,” and the Dead’s own “Casey Jones.” The latter began at a familiar pace, then kicked into a faster gear (you’d better watch their speed!) for a jamgrass section. The Stringdusters’ original “Wake the Dead” is likewise a tribute, with shades of “Fire on the Mountain” and lyrics like, “We'll fly so high without a net, we'll take a strange trip that we'll never forget.” Guitarist Falco turned on a “Jerry-izing” envelope filter effect for this one.

Bill Monroe also got a nod with a cover of “My Sweet Blue-Eyed Darlin’,” as did Swedish DJ Avicii, whose “Wake Me Up” closed the first set. The ‘Dusters played a number of their own songs too, including “Rise Sun” and “Pearl of Carolina,” both from their most recent album of originals (2022’s “Toward the Fray”). Conspicuously absent were their Spotify-friendly covers of songs by the Police (“Walking on the Moon”), the Cure (“Just Like Heaven”), and Harry Styles (“As It Was”). The fans didn’t mind; they were there for the infamy, not the radio-friendly stuff.

After two sets of kickass blue/jam/newgrass, the Stringdusters returned for an encore with a cover of “Get It While You Can,” a song written by banjo virtuoso Danny Barnes. The devoted fans shouted along on the chorus lyric: “I like good biscuits in the gravy, ma'am!”

Good biscuits! That’s a fitting description for the Infamous Stringdusters. Get yourself some infamous biscuits today.

SET LIST

Set 1:
Rise Sun
Tears of the Earth
Will You Be Lonesome Too
Like I Do
Hard Line
Deep Elem Blues (traditional)
Home of the Red Fox (Bill Emerson cover)
Night on the River
My Sweet Blue-Eyed Darlin' (Bill Monroe cover)
Wake Me Up (Avicii cover)

Set 2:
Angelina Baker (Stephen Foster cover)
Blockygrass
Peace of Mind
Casey Jones (Grateful Dead cover)
It'll Be Alright
Rain
Wake the Dead
Forty Years of Trouble
Pearl of Carolina
Blue Kentucky Wind (Les Taylor cover)
Big River (Johnny Cash cover)
Echoes of Goodbye (Jeremy Garrett song)

Encore:
Get It While You Can (Danny Barnes cover)

I’m happy to report that, while the New Mastersounds are no longer technically “new,” they are still kicking butts at 25 years young, and they are still masters of their sound.

A quarter-century ago, guitarist Eddie Roberts joined forces in Leeds (that’s a city in the U.K., my friends) with drummer Simon Allen, bassist Pete Shand, and keyboardist Bob Birch. Birch was replaced by Joe Tatton in 2007, and Tatton remains in the band to this day. Now, with over a dozen studio albums under their collective belts, the mostly-instrumental jazz-funk quartet is on tour to celebrate their new record, the not-ironically named “Old School.”

On Saturday night at San Francisco’s Fillmore Auditorium, drummer Allen made note of the irony, assuring the audience that the new album’s tracks are “all new songs – but they sound like our old songs.” And that’s a good thing; if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

Everything about the New Mastersounds (NMS) is, in all the best ways, “old school.” Roberts, the band’s ostensible frontman (if only because he stands front and center), often dresses in Rat Pack sport coats and wide-lapelled button-down shirts. At the Fillmore, he wore a dark suit and tie, and it would be easy to mistake him for a Wall Street banker if not for the cool Flight-of-the-Bumblebee-ish riffs he ripped from his ‘65 Gibson 330 from time to time. Or the way he keeps the beat with his foot on a tambourine.

Tatton keeps the groove flowing with Hammond organ overtones and fluid solos accented by the genre’s obligatory Leslie speaker tremolo. He and Roberts each take a turn out front with solos on nearly every song. Shand and Allen hold ground with time-tested, rock-steady funk beats that are scientifically proven* to maximize dance floor activity. (*Okay, I made that “science” part up, but the proof is in the NMS pudding – or, I should say, the proof is on the dance floor at any NMS show. Prove me wrong.)

On the band’s website, Allen recently reported that on this tour, “We have avoided boring ourselves by playing a mostly completely different set of tunes each night.” He added, “It has been super fun and most of the shows have sold out, which is a first for us.” At the Fillmore, he underscored their current wave of touring success: “We’ve got virtually no merchandise for you because we sold it all to the East Coasters.”

Several songs from “Old School” found their way into the Fillmore setlist, including the show opener “Boogaloo is Dead” (NMS proved that to be a lie). Also from “Old School”: a variety of food-themed titles. Maybe they were famished when they wrote “Breakfast T,” “Do the Sausage Roll,” and “Smoothie”? The crowd ate it up like comfort food and stayed hungry for more.

NMS is primarily an instrumental outfit, but not exclusively. Singer Destani Wolf, a Bay Area native, joined the fray to sing “Your Love is Mine,” a song that appeared on the second NMS album (then sung by Corinne Bailey Rae). A couple of locomotive-themed covers pulled into the NMS station too: Tatton sang Allen Toussaint’s “Last Train” – you know, the one that goes “You got me huffin’ and puffin’ and chuggin’ like a choo choo train.” Lucky Strokes singer Shelby Kemp came on stage for “Long Train Comin’,” the Doobie Brothers classic. Kemp also reminded the audience that the train is not the only way to get out of town – his version of Paul Simon’s “50 Ways to Leave Your Lover” (“Just hop on the bus, Gus”) had the audience singing along.

Allen was an engaging host, sharing the emcee role with Roberts. Leading into “Yokacoka,” he appealed to the fans, “If you like disco jazz say Yeah!” He asked the lighting tech to turn up the house lights several times so the band could see the audience – and toward the end of the show, when the lights came up upon one of his requests, he joked, “You’re still here?” Returning to the stage for an encore, he quipped, “We didn’t go anywhere, we were just hiding behind that speaker.”

For the final encore song, NMS asked for the audience’s help on the lyric, which (forgive any spelling errors) is roughly “Ba-da ba-da ba-da de ba-da.” Everyone chimed in, even a few of the ushers.

So yeah, if it ain’t broke don’t fix it. That’s science. That’s the New Mastersounds.

The opening act was another Roberts project, The Lucky Strokes. Vocalist Shelby Kemp sings a little like the singer from Molly Hatchet, and a little like James Brown. He plays a mean slide guitar too, and he and Roberts had several engaging “duels” throughout the hourlong set. With the Galbraith sisters, Ashley and Taylor, on bass and drums, respectively, there was a definite Led Zeppelin vibe layered on top of the Lucky Strokes southern rock brand. Longtime Roberts crony Chris Spies rounds out the quartet’s sound on tour with keyboard accompaniment.

It would be wrong to talk about the Lucky Strokes as a Roberts side project. Kemp is a powerhouse vocalist, as fun to watch as he is to listen to. His slide work and guitar leads are equally worthy of attention. The Galbraith sisters each get some well-deserved time in the spotlight too; Ashley Galbraith’s bass solo near the end of the set was a big crowd-pleaser. But what glued it all together was the music, mostly songs from their eponymous 2023 debut album. Check out “Sweet Dreams” for their smooth side, an R&B-inspired track with mellow harmonies and trading guitar leads. And don’t miss “Holy Fire,” which starts out reminiscent of “Radar Love” and then harkens Dio’s “Holy Diver.” It’s a balls-out, unapologetic rocker.

Someone in the audience said to me, “Eddie’s found a Robert Plant for his Jimmy Page. And this Robert Plant can play a mean slide guitar!”

Barely over a year old, the Lucky Strokes have a bright future.

San Francisco Bay Area music fans are looking forward to the 2024 Mill Valley Music Festival on May 11 and 12. This homegrown event, now in its third year, will feature The Fleet Foxes, Greensky Bluegrass, St. Paul & The Broken Bones, and a plethora of other worthy performers on two stages. Tickets for the weekend-long Marin County festival are available now at www.millvalleymusicfest.com.

The 2024 version of MVMF is “an impressive and eclectic lineup, one that really stands out from the crowd and attracts music lovers of all kinds,” said Michelle Swing, CEO of event promoter Noise Pop Industries. The lineup is indeed attractive: also appearing this year are the self-described “Southern California sweet soul” trio Thee Sacred Souls, country-Americana crooner Margo Price, and Eric D. Johnson’s indie folk project Fruit Bats. Some New Orleans spirit will be on board with Rebirth Brass Band. Danielle Ponder and Eric Lindell round out the main stage lineup, and a variety of local acts from in and around Marin County will get a chance to shine on a stage sponsored by Mill Valley’s storied Sweetwater Music Hall.

Jim Welte, Mill Valley Chamber of Commerce Executive Director and festival producer, has been involved in the production of MVMF since its inception in 2022. He says the goal of the festival is “to create and embolden economic vitality and social vitality.” Now in its third year, the festival has proven to be a success. “The value of raising the profile of our town and creating something fun and exciting for the larger Bay Area is really important to us. And so far, so good!”

Indeed, it’s not just about the music; it’s about community. Festival proceeds each year are contributed to three different beneficiaries, each an entirely local, nonprofit organization that brings value to the Mill Valley community. This year’s beneficiaries are:

Kiddo! (https://kiddo.org), whose core purpose is to provide funding for comprehensive arts programs in vocal and instrumental music, visual art, dance, drama, and poetry for children in the Mill Valley School District.

Tam High Foundation (https://www.tamhighfoundation.org/), which provides funds for bridging state and local funding gaps to provide academic enrichment programs, technology, guest teachers, equity, and wellness for every student.

Mill Valley Friends of Parks & Recreation (https://www.mvfriends.org), a nonprofit that facilitates, enhances, and promotes the activities and resources of the city’s parks and recreation facilities and services.

MVMF also features local craftspeople selling Mill Valley art, apparel, and more. Numerous food vendors representing local restaurants will serve a variety of NorCal cuisine, and a selection of Sonoma and Napa wineries will be pouring some of the region’s world-famous fermented beverages. The festival also has activities for kids, including a tie-dye workshop, DIY jewelry and flower crown stations, and inclusive field games. A pop-up record shop will be selling vinyl. Massages, yoga, art exhibits, student theater performances – something for everyone!

MVMF is held on the bucolic and aptly named Friends Field, a grassy park environment with redwood trees and Mount Tamalpais views located just behind the Mill Valley Community Center. The afternoon / early evening event schedule makes it a perfect weekend outing for families, and the world-class music lineup is likewise inviting to music lovers of all genres.

Festival attendees may also see the next big thing. The Sweetwater Stage this year will feature several up-and-coming regional acts, including San Francisco’s Roadkill (which the festival website touts as featuring “5-star Taco Bell cashier Joshua Higgins.”) Also on hand, Mullet Daddy is a band that arose from a music program at a public high school, Marin School of the Arts.

New for this year: The event is striving to be 100% emissions-free, engaging Bay Area energy innovators Moxion to provide battery systems instead of fuel-powered generators. Welte believes this may be a first for a Bay Area festival.

“This is about as homegrown of an event as you can possibly have,” Welte says. “Given the depth and breadth of live music and culture in our town, we decided [back in 2022] to try something a bit hairbrained,” adding that a Chamber of Commerce is “not the most obvious host and producer of an event like this.” But it worked out just fine. “We’re proud of it and happy to put our community on the map in a way that brings people in from out of town.”

MILL VALLEY MUSIC FESTIVAL LINEUP

SATURDAY, MAY 11TH
Fleet Foxes
Thee Sacred Souls
Fruit Bats
Danielle Ponder
Meels
Asher Belsky
The Army, The Navy
David Nance and Mowed Sound
Solace

SUNDAY, MAY 12TH, 2024
Greensky Bluegrass
Margo Price
St. Paul & The Broken Bones
Rebirth Brass Band
Eric Lindell
Jon Chi
Mullet Daddy
Anna Jae
Roadkill

My first visit to the New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival (a.k.a. "Jazzfest") was sort of a happy accident. In 1988, I was a young 20-something Grateful Dead tourhead, and I heard rumors that Little Feat was going to play their first show since the death of Lowell George a decade earlier. The allure was heightened by the fact that the reformed band would play on a riverboat floating on the Mississippi in New Orleans. I made plans to join up with some Deadhead friends in the Crescent City, the first trip to those parts for all of us.

This being years before the advent of cell phones and the internet, we were flying blind. We showed up in NOLA a week or so ahead of the show date and started to ask around: how do we get tickets? Someone steered us to the local fairgrounds, they said there was a ticket booth there. The fairgrounds? Okay. I think we had some notion that the Little Feat show was tied to a local music festival, but we knew nothing else.

We found a ticket booth in a sparsely populated parking lot at the fairgrounds and asked about tickets. The lady in the booth said we'd have to go to a Ticketron (remember Ticketron?) at a nearby mall, and she showed us where to go on a map. Then she looked us up and down, a handful of tie-dyed hippies with lost-in-the-wilderness eyes.

She asked, "Y'all like music?" Yup.

"Do y'all even know what's going on in here?" She pointed toward the fairgrounds behind the booth. Nope, we had no idea.

She called her husband on a walkie-talkie. He showed up at the booth a minute later. Turns out her hubby was one of the event's lead security officers. "These people ain't never heard of Jazzfest," the ticket booth lady said. "I think you should walk 'em in."

And so we were indeed escorted inside and turned loose. Looking around, we felt like Dorothy must have felt after being transported by a tornado to Oz and walking out her front door into a Technicolor dreamscape. It was the first Friday of that year's festival (there was no Thursday Jazzfest back then) and we caught Taj Mahal closing the main stage. Holy shit.

Over the next two weekends, we were hooked. Yes, we ended up getting tickets for Little Feat's show on the Riverboat President (the last official Jazzfest riverboat show, as it turns out) with guest star Bonnie Raitt and an opening set by The Radiators. That was the second weekend – and by then we'd been on the Riverboat President once already to see a B.B. King / Stevie Ray Vaughan double bill. We'd also spent many nights crawling the French Quarter. And we'd gone to every day of Jazzfest. We saw the Rads play until dawn at Tipitina's. We ate our fill of blackened redfish, red beans and rice, and jambalaya. Fu*king NOLA, where y'at!

I’ve been to a dozen or so Jazzfests since then. It’s an addiction; I might skip a year or two here or there, but it always calls me back. (I know, that makes me a softie in some people’s eyes.) I might have found my way down there at some point anyway if not for Little Feat, but that lady in the ticket booth did me and my friends a solid, and I will always think fondly of her. I think her name was Laverne?

So here I am heading back to Jazzfest again, traveling with a lifelong friend for the second weekend of 2024 and looking forward to – who knows what? Tons of amazeballs music, killer food, sweaty days and steamy nights, and not much sleep. Bring it!

I wrote this journal before, during, and shortly after my trip. As I write this, I have no idea how it’s gonna end.

Jazzfest was the brainchild of Olaf Lambert, the manager of the Royal Orleans Hotel in the French Quarter, and George Wein, founder of the Newport Jazz and Folk Festivals. After a few attempts to kick off a yearly festival in the 1960s, Wein, in partnership with Quint Davis and Allison Miner, produced the first official New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival in 1970. Only a few hundred people attended the first year's festivities. Performers at the weekend-long event included Mahalia Jackson, Duke Ellington, Fats Domino, and The Preservation Hall Brass Band.

The first two Jazzfests were held on the historically significant site known as Congo Square in the Tremé district, not too far from the French Quarter. Two years later, the event was relocated to its present-day home at the Fair Grounds Race Course (from here on I'll just call it "the Fairgrounds"), which encompasses several acres of dirt and sod encircled by a one-mile oval horse track. From 350 attendees that first year in Congo Square, the festival has grown into a behemoth, now scheduled for eight days over two long weekends each year with over 400,000 (!) unique visitors annually. It has become one of NOLA's biggest tourism events, second only to Mardi Gras. Book your hotels / Airbnbs and restaurant reservations early, folks!

When I first went in 1988, there were about ten stages, all within the oval racetrack. Since then, the Blues, Gospel, and Jazz Tent stages have been moved outside the dirt oval to a concrete parking area (still inside the Fairgrounds). A few smaller stages have been added too, including one inside the grandstand courtyard, and they've also added a small tent in the middle of the maelstrom which has become one of my favorites, the Cultural Exchange Pavilion.

Spread amongst the stage areas, fest goers can enjoy a selection of the Mississippi Delta’s finest regional cuisines from dozens of local vendors. The mouthwatering flavors of Cajun, creole, soul food, and Caribbean comestibles are unparalleled. Some people, I’m sure, come just for the food! Craft vendors are also featured throughout the grounds, with wares ranging from kitschy to sophisticated art gallery fare (some might call it “highfalutin”) representing a multitude of folk and modern traditions.

Wandering around the grounds, you might also run into a cooking or blacksmith demonstration, some Mardi Gras Indians attaching feathers and beads to a parade participant’s headdress, or a scheduled interview with a famous musician. That is, if you don’t get impeded – and pleasantly distracted – during your wanderings by one of several daily parades scheduled on the walkways that wind through the Fairgrounds.

Jazzfest can be quite enjoyably overwhelming.

And perhaps the most overwhelming factor is the music. With 15 stages, overlap is inevitable. Just for example, the closing Sunday this year will feature Trombone Shorty, Earth, Wind & Fire, Bonnie Raitt, Tower of Power, George Thorogood, the Wallflowers, and several other acts – all at the same time! I remember one year when I was faced with similar FOMO overload, I ended up just buying a Café du Monde beignet and grooving to some super-high Gospel Tent performance by someone I’d never heard of because, well, it’s all good.

Perhaps the best way to look at it is to rate your Jazzfest experience not by the bands you see, but by the bands you didn’t see.

Just for a snapshot of the caliber of musicians Jazzfest pulls in, here is a teeny-weeny partial list of global headliner acts I’ve seen at Jazzfest over the years – to say nothing of the many acts I’ve NOT seen who have played while I was there: Diana Ross, Elton John, The Eagles, Dave Matthews Band, Foo Fighters, James Brown, Willie Nelson. And then there’s the endless parade of NOLA luminaries I’ve seen, from the Neville Brothers to Fats Domino to Allen Toussaint to Irma Thomas.

But despite the incredible count of world-famous names above (and believe me, that’s not even a drop in a very big bucket), my favorite acts are often people I’ve never heard of. For that reason, it’s worth going early each day; it’s less crowded, the line to get inside is shorter, and you get to see tons of unsung musical geniuses who play before 2:00 pm. Food lines are shorter before noon too (and hint-hint: they are often shorter after about 5:00 pm too.) This year, I’m also really looking forward to the Colombian acts who will be featured in the Cultural Exchange Pavilion. And I often stumble onto a new fave walking by a stage on my way to see someone else. Cuba’s Cimafunk and Jupiter and Okwess from the Democratic Republic of Congo are exciting treasures I discovered this way. (Do yourself a favor and check those bands out!)

Of course, showing up early isn’t easy if you go out to a 3:00 am show at Tipitina’s. It’s all about choices. I used to do those super-late night shows, but now I plan my evenings around something that ends not too long after midnight so I can wake up and beat the crowd to the Fairgrounds. There’s a million ways to do it. I’ll do me, you do you, it’s all in good order. Those late-late-late shows can be mighty tasty, I will admit.

My Jazzfest mantra is, “Let the good times roll.” I know, so original, right? But it works if you work it.

Each year, seasoned fest goers pray for temperate weather, but the good money says to plan for both sweltering sun (bring sunscreen and a hat or umbrella!) and rain that can turn the infield into a mud pit. As I write this, it looks like it’s gonna be a hot one this year with scattered thunderstorms. Par for the course.

One last pre-fest note before I board my plane: I’ve now had tickets to see the Rolling Stones at Jazzfest three times. In 2019, Mick cancelled the leg of the tour that included Jazzfest due to heart surgery. In 2021, when Jazzfest attempted an autumn festival after skipping two years due to the pandemic, a resurgence of Covid forced another cancellation. You can’t always get what you want, that’s one apt cliché. But another cliché is that the third time’s the charm. I’m comin’ for yah, Keef!

WEDNESDAY, MAY 1

Frenchman Street is at one end of the French Quarter, several blocks away from the hubbub of Bourbon Street. A three-block stretch of Frenchmen is known for a string of music venues, street performances, and local flavor. On any given night—especially during Jazzfest and other NOLA events—a music fan can hear a variety of jazz, blues, and funk just by walking down the street.

I spent the night before Jazzfest Weekend 2 on Frenchmen, soaking up the steamy heat. A brass band with about a dozen players commanded attention from a crowded semicircle of partiers on the corner in front of Willie’s Chicken Shack. Further up the street, a quintet sat on low beach chairs in front of a closed storefront playing Dixieland blues. A number of bars with no cover charge and, typically, a loosely-enforced one drink minimum hosted ragtime, reggae, and R&B that could be heard out on the street.

The Blue Nile is probably the biggest club on Frenchmen. I caught the early show, a jazz combo featuring Cochemea (saxophone), Marco Benevento (keys), Robert Walter (keys), Reed Mathis (bass), and Chris Corsico (drums). Benevento, in town for a three-night run with Joe Russo’s Almost Dead at the Fillmore New Orleans, was having a ball playing a set that included pieces by Miles Davis and Pharoah Saunders. Mathis was flying on bass—he’s also a gifted guitar player, but I first heard him on bass and still prefer him in that mode. When organist Will Blades jumped on stage, the crowd was treated to a trio of jam-jazz’s most gifted keyboardists grooving together.

NOLA was letting the good times roll, all right!

THURSDAY, MAY 2

Fans were lined up before dawn to get a spot for the Stones. (Not me, but I saw it on the news during breakfast at my hotel.) For the first time in Jazzfest history, the other stages were all scheduled to end their performances a few hours prior to the Stones’ set on the main Festival Stage. To add to the unusual Rolling Stones circus atmosphere at the festival, no chairs, blankets, or tarps were allowed on most of the field, per the published rules. Only early arrivals were guaranteed a spot for lawn chairs at the very back of the meadow.

A circus was expected by the time Mick, Keith, and Ron hit the stage. As it turns out, it wasn’t nearly as crowded as it was during Elton John’s set a few years ago, and I suspect there will be more people cramming the field for the Foo Fighters on Friday since there has been no limit on ticket sales for any of the days other than Thursday. (Spoiler alert: Earth, Wind, and Fire, closing the Congo Square stage on Sunday, would prove to be the clusterfuckiest of them all.)

I walked in the gates at around 11:30 AM, but the Stones weren’t coming on for several hours. My traveling partner and I were here to see a lot more music than just the Stones, of course, and we made the rounds to several other stages for the first few hours. We got some po’ boys (I had the catfish, yum!) and grabbed a seat in the Gospel Tent. The Electrifying Crown Seekers were raising the Holy Spirit: “We got a song now called ‘Jesus is Coming to Town.’ Because Jesus is MY Santa Claus.”

We also checked out several of the acts in the Cultural Exchange Pavilion. As I mentioned, this year’s lineup on this stage was a suite of Colombian performers, and we had multiple opportunities to see each of them both here in this shady tent and also on some of the other stages, and in a few of the fairground's parades too. First of these was Batambora. Several members of the troupe jumped onto the floor and got the audience to circle around while they showed us some traditional Colombian dance moves.

From Colombia, we traveled to the bayou. Our first visit to the Fais Do-Do Stage gave us our first taste of Cajun music. Genre superstar Michael Doucet was kicking up a storm with his new band Lâcher Prise—which in French means “let go.” “It’s also a Buddhist term,” Doucet said in a recent interview. “When it came to making this music, it was just total freedom. The new songs were different from what I typically do.”

He had a scheduled appearance later this weekend with his band Beausoleil, whom I had seen for the first time way back in 1988 at my first Fest. But this band was a bit more lively and, dare I say, jammy. Doucet, no spring chicken (to be honest, I thought he was old when I saw him 36 years ago!) kept the pace for his young bandmates. Jazzfest wouldn’t be the same without him.

We started to mosey toward the Festival Stage to find some of my besties who had texted me to come help them protect the zone around their chairs from late arrivals. We strolled just slowly enough past the Congo Square Stage to get the flavor of the Cole Williams Band. Williams belted some sweet soul as we meandered by.

Eventually, we made our way back to the Festival Stage. Despite a plethora of signs and pre-fest PR, the infield was full of chairs hours before the headliner slot. Thousands of fans were festooned with T-shirts, hats, and earrings bearing endless variations of the Stones’ famous “lips and tongue” logo. The circus was in town.

We found our buddies in the “legit” chair area way at the back of the field and settled in.

Warming up for the Stones is both an honor and a challenge. Kansas City blues goddess Samantha Fish rose to the occasion with an hour-long display of her own butt-kickin’ guitar wizardry. (Fish cites the Stones’ album Sticky Fingers as an early influence of her musical taste and style.) Next, Ivan Neville and Dumpstaphunk took the stage for a set of NOLA funk just as the other stages ended their programming for the day. The crowd grew thicker with Stones fans every moment. I wandered through the crowd taking pictures of some of the ardent Stones freaks and then headed back to our comfort zone at the back of the meadow.

Clouds and a mild breeze kept the Fairgrounds from overheating. So did the flow of beer, strawberry lemonade, and a variety of frozen boozy drinks. Good times were rolling toward the Stones.

Finally, a voice boomed: “Ladies and gentlemen—The Rolling Stones!” The royal and iconic “Bah-Da-Da” chords of “Start Me Up” rang out, and the crowd roared. Mick strutted on stage and onto the big video screens. Screams echoed for Keith Richards and Ron Wood when their mugs appeared in close-ups. The circus had begun in earnest.

By the way, and by way of apology: I never even tried to get anywhere near the Festival Stage on Friday for pictures. What you see is what you get. Just roll with it, folks.

Drops of rain began falling after the first few songs. Were the heavens threatening to dump? The Stones had to cancel Jazzfest appearances twice in the past five years; was fate rearing its head again? Was a storm “threatening our very lives today”? Fortunately, the threat passed.

For “Let it Bleed,” the band brought out rising zydeco star Dwayne Dopsie. Ron Wood played a lap steel guitar, Mick an acoustic. Dopsie took a lead, and the Americana tone of the 1969 classic took on a zydeco twist. Dopsie became a Jazzfest star in less than five minutes.

Just before the Stones had taken the stage, one of my friends and I had debated who would come on as a guest. Neither of us knew Dopsie at all (we do now!), so his appearance was a draw. My friend guessed Ivan Neville—a good call considering he was the opener and also played with Keith way back when in his X-pensive Winos band. I thought we might see Samantha Fish come out and show the guys who’s boss. But I also guessed Irma Thomas. Not because I remembered that she recorded “Time is On My Side” before the Stones did (honestly, I’d forgotten that), but because she’s the Queen of New Orleans soul and her royal lineage was fitting for the occasion. When he introduced Thomas (so yeah, I won the debate), Mick said he and Keith first heard “Time is On My Side” on a car radio and right away they knew they wanted to cover it. I’m not sure if they’d ever sung it with Thomas before. For the record: I have a special place in my heart for Thomas because the only time I’d ever had a backstage pass at Jazzfest (a fluke, some kind stranger just handed me one specifically for the Jazz Tent), I wanted to take a picture of her as she walked off the stage following her tribute to Mahalia Jackson. But instead of lifting my camera as she passed, I was a bit star struck and just said, “That was beautiful, thank you.” She smiled and threw her arms around me for a hug.

The show rolled on. One of my all-time fave Stones songs (and yes, that’s like picking your favorite from a basket of perfectly crisp french fries) is “You Can’t Always Get What You Want.” This classic is also the unofficial theme song for the Stones at Jazzfest, given that they had to cancel twice in the past five years. I loved that they kicked it off with a French horn, just like on the original recording. I loved that the audience chimed in loudly on every chorus of “You get what you need!” And I loved that for the raucous outro, the band kicked it into high NOLA gear with second-line gusto.

And what a band! Chuck Leavell of the Allman Brothers on keys, Karl Denson on sax, and the solid rhythm section of Steve Jordan on drums and Darryl Jones on bass. I’ll give Keith a pass for slowing down a bit in his middle age (he’ll live to 140, I’m sure), but Ron Wood was as flashy as ever. Tight, rockin’, historic—the touring Stones 2024 version still got it.

Mick isn’t running from one side of the stage to the other these days. But he sure gets his steps in strutting about—and he’s got the crowd under his thumb, always the center of attention. He talked a lot. For instance, he told us that “We haven’t done a matinee show in years.” He also got downright political (forgive me if I transcribed this wrong on the fly, but you’ll get the gist): “We’re all very inclusive aren’t we. I hope [Republican Louisiana] Governor Landry is here tonight. He’d like to be inclusive too, even if he wants to take us back to the stone age.” Burn!

They played a ton of hits, of course. Mostly hits, in fact, although a few new ones found their way into the mix. The two-hour show ended with “Miss You,” “Gimme Shelter,” “Paint it Black,” and finally “Jumpin’ Jack Flash.” For an encore, they played a mellow “Sweet Sounds of Heaven” (recorded with Lady Gaga for their 2023 album) before saying goodbye with “Satisfaction.”

And with that, we can now say that the Stones have played Jazzfest.

In many, many ways, “Jazzfest” is more than just Jazzfest. For a host of out-of-towners, the day is not even halfway done after exiting the gates at 7:00 PM. Dinner reservations, shows at theaters and clubs, crawling the French Quarter—some folks don’t sleep until after dawn. Been there, done that, but I’m always good for at least one adventure after Fest (though I’m an old fart who needs his beauty sleep, compared to some folks I know these days).

Thursday night’s adventure was a trip to the Civic Theater for Ivan Neville and Dumpstaphunk’s tribute to the Meters. Ivan’s uncle Cyril Neville was on hand, as were original Meters George Porter Jr. (bass) and Leo Nocentelli (guitar).

New Breed Brass Band opened up. These young Grammy nominees follow the tradition of big, funky brass-heavy bands like the Dirty Dozen and Rebirth Brass Band. They play a lot of originals that are well-crafted, intelligent, and distinctive.

The main event was centered around a performance of “Rejuvenation,” the Meters' fifth album, released in 1975. I have to admit, I’m not familiar with that record other than “People Say” and “Hey Pocky-A-Way,” but I’m gonna check it out now for sure. Nocentelli was sentimental about the evening. “I can’t tell you what it feels like to have these guys play my music, the Meters music, and play it with such passion.” Dumpstaphunk bass player Tony Hall had some technical issues switching to electric guitar when Porter took over on bass in the second half of the show—but Hall got the biggest cheer of the night when his strings were finally heard over the PA, and he shredded on leads every bit as much as guitar god Nocentelli.

A happy note: Nocentelli called his wife Pesuky on stage for a kiss when he played “Just Kissed My baby.” She seemed reluctant to come over to his side, but he was persistent.

A sad note: Nick Daniels III, one half of the longtime two-bass duo in Dumpstaphunk, died April 26 following complications from multiple myeloma cancer. He was 68. RIP, Nick.

FRIDAY, MAY 3

It was raining in the morning at our hotel, and it was raining when we got off the shuttle at the Fairgrounds. About two-thirds of the early arrivals (we got there around noon) wore ponchos or raincoats. The rest of us took our chances that the steady, light rain wouldn’t turn into a downpour. The air was pleasantly cool. My camera stayed in my backpack wrapped in a waterproof bag.

I was excited for Allison Russell, probably my number-one goal for the entire weekend. I had nothing in particular planned for the first few hours before her set. Since I didn’t make it over to the Blues or Jazz Tents the day before, I decided to see who was on those stages and do some wandering.

The most memorable performance of those first few hours was in the Gospel Tent. Tonia Scott wore a shirt that said, “Of course I am Tonia Scott” on the back. Of course, she was! Her choir was heavenly, their voices angelic—you know, all the things you want from gospel singers.

One of my best friends (I know a ton of people here this weekend) texted to say I should check out Meschiya Lake. She hadn’t actually heard Lake sing herself, but a mutual friend had apparently hired Lake and her band for a birthday party and raved about her. So I let the good times roll me toward the Blues Tent for her show.

Ah, the serendipity of good-time rolling. Most of the seats were taken when my traveling partner and I walked into the Blues Tent. A kind stranger saw us looking around for open seats and beckoned to us. This stranger led us to the front row seats he was vacating. And since my number one act of the day, Allison Russell, was coming on the Blues Tent stage in a few hours, we decided to camp out for a few sets.

Meschiya Lake was worth it; my friend’s friend had steered us right. Lake is a swing singer from South Dakota backed by her band the Little Big Horns. (South Dakota … Little Big Horns … get it?!) She can sing the phone book, the internet, whatever. Thoroughly entertaining.

Next in the Blues Tent was Guitar Slim Jr. The old-school blues guitarist channeled (and frequently invoked) his famous namesake father. He also name-checked Stevie Ray Vaughan several times. “I was on the road with Stevie Ray Vaughan back in the day.” He pointed up at Vaughan’s picture hung from the tent rafters. “Stevie Ray did a few of my daddy’s songs. So I’m gonna do another song—by my daddy.” After “Reap What You Sow,” which was of course covered by Stevie Ray, Slim Jr. treated the crowd to his version of Vaughan’s own hit “Pride and Joy.” Full circle.

So yes, I had the fortune and honor of sitting front row for my personal main event of the day, if not the weekend. Allison Russell was on fire. She played mostly songs from “The Returner,” her Grammy-nominated 2023 album (one of my favorite albums from last year by far) with a five-piece band. Russell switched from clarinet to banjo occasionally, playing in line with her accompanists toward the back of the stage, but she frequently came up to the front of the platform to dazzle with her commanding, emotive vocals and a bright smile. She spoke from her heart between songs about equality, forgiveness, love, and acceptance.

Toward the end of her slot, she introduced her 10-year-old daughter Ida, who sang a duet with her beaming mom. It was hard to top that, even with Russell’s national tour-mate Hozier joining after for the set-ending “Requiem.” Momma was so proud, and her daughter sang fabulously.

So wow, that was worth every penny!

I’d already decided not to venture into the maelstrom for the Foo Fighters (seen ‘em, love ‘em, didn’t need to swim in the overcrowded Festival Stage aquarium), and passed up the opportunity to see Steel Pulse on the Congo Square stage (ditto). Choices, right? It’s all good. Instead, I caught part of the Lee Boys, a sacred steel family band from Miami. One of my local faves, trombonist Big Sam, was on board for their Fais Do-Do Stage appearance. Oh, and on my way there, I saw a snippet of Lil Mike and Funnybone on the Jazz & Heritage Stage. I recognized the rap duo from their recurring role on “Reservation Dogs.” Fun stuff.

With over an hour left before Day 2 ended at the Fairgrounds, I ambled back to the Blues Tent. It was a circuitous amble. First, I got an order of crunchy fried boudin balls and doused them with Crystal hot sauce (damn good stuff, those boudin balls!), and I ate them while watching Bejuco in the Cultural Exchange Tent. I bopped a bit to whatever Mardi Gras Indians were on the Jazz & Heritage Stage on my way past. (In case you hadn’t noticed, I passed by this stage often; it’s at a nexus in the middle of the event space.)

And finally, I found Christone “Kingfish” Ingram giving a master class in the blues in a packed tent.

After a few “lessons” from Kingfish, I thought maybe I’d start heading toward the exit and perhaps catch a few tunes elsewhere on my way out. But then Kingfish started walking through the audience playing his guitar, and his solo was flaming. Couldn’t leave now! So I waited until after he got back on stage to start my exit. But then Kingfish started picking his guitar with his teeth. Couldn’t walk away from that either! I just could not walk away from his blazing guitar pyrotechnics. Lesson learned!

I finally made my move at about 6:50 PM. Heading out past the Gentilly Stage, I ran into an unexpected mass of young humanity. I could not have told you that Hozier was a big thing, despite being given a closing slot on the Gentilly Stage, the second largest space in the Fairgrounds. But there I was, scratching my way through a tightly packed horde of at least 25,000 people filling the field. The Millennials and Gen Z’ers seem to know every word of every song. I knew “Take Me to Church” was a big thing (and indeed, he played that as I walked out toward my shuttle), but I had no idea the guy was a legit headliner. My bad. Clearly, the kids—and some of us old-timers—loved it.

⚜ ⚜ ⚜

On Friday evening, I visited New Orleans’ version of the Fillmore Auditorium for the first time. I brought a pocket-sized camera to get a few shots of Joe Russo’s Almost Dead (JRAD), but the staff said even those little guys weren’t allowed. I ended up walking in with it anyway somehow only to find my battery was dead. Karma. I didn’t even bother taking pics with my phone either.

I’ve been to the original San Francisco Fillmore easily well over 100 times. This place was Live Nation’s commercialized version of a cookie-cutter pseudo-re-creation of the famed venue. There were similar chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, but it was otherwise barely reminiscent of the storied venue. On the other hand, it’s not a bad place—large, roomy, some tiered seats in the back, and more urinals in the men's room than a basketball arena. Pretty good sound, definitely better than Mardi Gras World (the last place in NOLA where I’d seen JRAD, in about 2018). No free apples though.

JRAD came on stage at the stroke of 9:00 PM. Apparently, Russo had a gig shortly after midnight so there was no time to spare. Of course, they killed it. No band, in my humble opinion, plays the Dead with as much spirit, chops, and brilliant interpretations as JRAD. But I see so much Dead cover band music in the Bay Area, and I have tickets to see JRAD again later this year. So I stayed for the first set and half of the second before tearing myself away to head off for Round Two of my evening.

Round Two was the annual Bayou Rendezvous throwdown at Howlin’ Wolf. I was invited to shoot pictures, and there was a ton of good music on the bill. I made it until about 2:30 AM before hitting the wall. By then I’d seen four acts. First was an improv jazz fusion combo in the tiny Den room, a sweltering closet with about 120 people shoehorned into it. Robert Walter (keys), Will Bernard (guitar), Reed Mathis (bass), and Simon Lott (drums) were doing their best to raise the very low roof (mission accomplished!), and Cochemea jumped up on sax. Steam was rising from our sweaty bodies and smoke from the musicians' instruments. (Fun fact: I’ve had three guitar lessons in my life, and one was from Will Bernard.)

Back on the main stage I found John “Papa” Gros singing and playing a Hammond, Papa Mali and June Yamagishi on guitars, Johnny Vidacovich and Terence Higgins on drums, and Kevin Scott on bass. Papa Mali must have had a gig elsewhere because he split at some point and Eric McFadden took his spot center stage. McFadden and Yamagishi traded leads in a post-midnight shred-fest. Vidacovich, always a master, was sublime with his second-line syncopation, always one of my favorite drummers to watch.

Back to the Den at around 1:00 AM, where I found Galactic guitar player Jeff Raines and bassist Robert Mercurio holding court with Simon Lott still on drums and Dr. John’s keyboard player Joe Ashlar burning the post-midnight oil with flaming leads. A trumpet player (still trying to find out who that was) added some funky brass to take the heat even higher.

Back in the big room, Cool Cool Cool took up the house-party band mantle. Singers Shira Elias and Sammi Garett egged on the crowd with an infusion of musical caffeine. I was hoping for a Talking Heads cover or two (Cool Cool Cool is more or less the band that has been backing Adrian Belew and Jerry Harrison on their never-ending “Remain in Light” tour for a few years now)—and they may have played something from that catalog after I finally cashed in my chips to hit the sack, but by then I was snoring.

SATURDAY, MAY 4

I’d been in NOLA for three days and hadn’t had a single beignet! So, first thing at the Fairgrounds, I headed for the Café du Monde kiosk and loaded up on some classic “powdered sugar delivery units.” I took my goodies into the Jazz Tent to kick off the day’s music with Blodie’s Jazz Jam. Blodie is one of the founders of the Dirty Dozen Brass Band, and he’d brought a bunch of friends with him for some modern and traditional New Orleans jazz. Beignets and brass, sounds and tastes like heaven!

For me, Saturday was one of those days where the intersections of life and death—intersections that are uniquely celebrated in N'awlins tradition—seemed present everywhere I turned. Bodie was at the first such intersection of the day. “Most of us spend a lot of time on the road,” he said. “We want to take some time today to pay homage to some friends of ours.” He mentioned Kirk Franklin, a few other notable recent losses, and some lesser-known but cherished, dearly-departed family members. The band played a slow song in their honor. Then Bodie spoke again: “After a dirge like that, we celebrate life, and life goes on.” The band played a lively, spirited song. That’s part of the NOLA tradition.

The early afternoon was a scorcher but with some clouds and an occasional breeze that stunted the humidity from time to blessed time.

If Thursday was a circus and Friday was a clusterfu)k—well, by Saturday I’d run out of words to describe the crowd. I haven’t looked through the schedules of past years to try to figure out when the festival started inviting internationally famous acts that can fill football stadiums, but it’s certainly not the somewhat-mellow festival I first experienced in 1988. Headliners used to be acts like Dr. John, the Neville Brothers, and maybe a Bonnie Raitt or even a James Brown. But they didn’t start inviting stadium-packing bands like the Foo Fighters and the Stones until later. I suppose it’s good for the local economy, but it sure makes the Fairgrounds a bit of a zoo.

Rolling with the good times led me by happy accident to a performance of Native American dances. In the midst of a large circle of appreciative onlookers, one woman did a butterfly dance. A young boy and his father danced a medicinal hoop dance. Several drummers shared a single drumhead to pound a strong beat.

Next up was Cedric Watson et Bijou Creole on the Fais Do-Do Stage. Another intersection of life and death. A guitar amplifier stage right had a wreath of flowers and a golden Bible balanced on top. After the first song, Watson explained its presence: “We’re going to dedicate this show to one of the greatest musicians, Mr. Chris Stafford.” Stafford, a deeply loved and revered Louisiana musician, died tragically in a car accident just this past Thursday night.

Washboard player Paul Bird Edwards was clearly distraught. He kept looking at the amplifier as he played, and his eyes were teary. “No matter what, he’s here,” Edwards said.

Over in the Economy Hall tent, more life and death. I’m sorry to say I missed who they were celebrating. But I did pay my respect as paraders slowly stepped through the tent during a slow song. And I tapped my toes and joined the second line when the Preservation Brass Band swung into a high-powered “When the Saints Go Marching In.”

Over on the Congo Square stage, hometown party host Kermit Ruffins was doing his thing. He trumpeted a funky jazz version of “If I Only Had a Brain.”

After I felt like I got a bellyful of Ruffins and his Barbecue Swingers, I tripped over to Columbia. I didn’t miss a single opportunity all weekend to swing by the Cultural Exchange Tent. This time it was Bejuco again, and their grooves were infectious.

The only place I’ve ever seen Glen Davis Andrews is at Jazzfest in the Blues and Jazz Tents. But I never miss his set. He has boundless energy and always gives the crowd more than they could ask for. The highlight of his set, for me at least, is when he comes down from the stage and brings his jet-fuel energy directly to the people. He marches through the aisles singing or playing trombone, occasionally stopping to let an encircling crowd hem him in with raised cell phones capturing the close-up moment on video.

The only difference this year in the Blues Tent was that he didn’t march right into a row of chairs and stand up on one of the seats to preach his musical message. Too bad, that’s always the apex of a very high communal experience at Andrews’ shows. But I’m possibly the only person who noticed he skipped that part of his traditional routine.

It was time now to head to the Festival Stage to get ready for Neil Young and Crazy Horse. Thank goodness for friends of friends! There was space for me right on the rail at house-right. Well, not the rail, that was for A-listers with Foundation and Board passes. And it wasn’t the second rail, that was for people who splurged for the pricey VIP section passes. But there I was on the third rail, the one for us regular folks, maybe 100 feet from the stage.

Neil came on about 15 minutes early. (He’d end ten minutes early though.) Founding Crazy Horse members Billy Talbot (bass) and Ralph Molina (drums) are being accompanied on this tour by Willie Nelson’s kid Micah (a.k.a. Particle Kid) on rhythm and lead guitar while Nils Lofgren is under contract to tour with Bruce Springsteen.

The three old guys (Neil, Billy, and Ralph) are all hovering around 80-years-old, but you wouldn’t guess it by the way they rocked like 20-somethings. It’s rare to see a bunch of octogenarians who sound exactly as awesome as they did in their 20s (for instance, see Stones, Rolling), but these guys? Man, I’ll have what they’re having!

Continuing the theme of life-and-death intersection, Neil told the crowd that, “All the songs we’re doing today were produced by David Briggs. When he passed it was a tremendous loss.” Briggs died in 1995, which shows how much he must have meant to Neil.

Another intersection: It may be a coincidence that Neil (I feel like I want to be on a first-name basis with him, like an old friend!) played “Ohio” on the anniversary of the Kent State massacre. Also, I’m not sure, but I think Neil played it on an electric guitar that David Crosby had given him. He played this song solo, the only song of the set without the band.

The Crazy Horse show may have been my favorite set by a superstar ever at Jazzfest. Every song was brilliant, from the opening 20-minute lead guitar spectacle of “Cortez the Killer” to the audience enthusiastically singing along with the refrains of “Down by the River” and “Hey Hey, My My.” A friend of mine complained later that Crazy Horse didn’t do any deep cuts, but I felt I’d had a good fill of that side of Neil’s catalog during last year’s sublime solo mostly-acoustic tour. I don’t mind the hits when they’re all so tasty!

And truly, “Rock and roll will never die.” (By the way, I looked it up when Neil name-checked Johnny Rotten in that song; Johnny Lydon is now 68!) Certainly not as long as kids like Micah Wilson are whipping out classic rock solos and feedback jams like the one he did near the end of the show. (Love those Nelson kids, Micah and Lucas!)
Long may you run, Neil and Crazy Horse. Long may we all run. But then, none of us will live as long as Keith Richards, I’m sure.

⚜ ⚜ ⚜

We dined at Atchafalaya Restaurant on Louisiana Avenue that night. One of the best meals I’ve ever had in New Orleans! My friend, a vegetarian, was impressed by the unique cauliflower dish she ordered; it’s rare to find vegetarian entrees on menus full of meats and fish that are so thoughtful and delicious. My seabass in a meuniere sauce with peaches and onions was out of this world.

Finally, to close out the night, I met up with some folks in the balcony of the Joy Theater for a funk throwdown featuring most of Dumpstaphunk and most of Lettuce (including founding guitar player Eric Krasno), with guests George Porter Jr., John “Papa” Gros, and Cyril Neville. Other than the fact that it was a tremendously epic funky jam sesh, I don’t have much to say about this show. I just danced my ass off and had a great time.

SUNDAY, MAY 5

In one way, each Jazzfest experience is like an NCAA basketball tournament. For the NCAA annual championship, fans fill out their “brackets,” making picks for who will win each round and advance to the next. Everyone’s brackets are different, and adjustments have to be made as each game is played. So it is with Jazzfest—you look at the “cubes” (the grid of stage schedules), you pick where you’ll go, and maybe you follow your plan or maybe you end up doing something else. And no two people end up with matching grids, just like how the nearly immeasurable variety of NCAA tournament picks is different for every basketball fan.

So in that spirit, here’s my Sunday journal. I didn’t exactly plan it this way, but by laissezing les bons temps rouler, I finally checked out the few stages I hadn’t yet visited during the long weekend so far. First, I popped into the Rhythmpourium to see what the buzz was all about when I saw a thick crowd spilling out of the tent flaps. It was Dwayne Dopsie, now enjoying a wealth of attention following his onstage appearance with the Stones a few days earlier. He also let us know he recorded the accordion part for “Jolene” on Beyoncé’s new album. Man, that guy can play a mean accordion!

And man, was it sweaty in there! Not sure if it was the humidity or Dopsie’s playing.

A while later, I poked my head into the Children’s Tent just to get a glimpse of the wild rumpus. A handful of children were at the foot of the stage enraptured by OperaCréole, while other kids, oblivious to the performance, played with hula hoops and chased each other in circles.

And completing my journey to include every stage in the Fairgrounds, I made sure to catch most of the set by the New Orleans Klezmer Allstars on the Lagniappe Stage later that afternoon in the courtyard of the racetrack grandstands. (Helpful hint: Jazzfest pros know they can find air-conditioned bathrooms in the grandstands too!) I have a deep fondness for the Klezmer Allstars; when I brought my mother to her first Jazzfest in 1993, she danced the hora during their set in the Economy Hall tent. My mother died last year; I paid homage to her and celebrated her memory while the Allstars played songs like “King Fela’s Chicken Soup.” A dance duo performed interpretive movement during one of the songs, and two young girls in the audience did their own dance at the foot of the stage during the entire set.

The Radiators threw down too. Always a treat to see those hometown dudes kick up a shitstorm of rock and roll. I can never decide which of their lead guitarists I like better, but it’s always a gas listening to Dave Malone’s Fender and Camille Baudoin’s Gibson duke it out. Every time I see the Rads, it takes me back to my first Jazzfest, seeing them on the Riverboat President and at Tipitina’s.

Also on Sunday: Lucio Feullet and his band were one of the Colombian acts in the Cultural Exchange Tent. Oh man, so glad I got to see them! Feullet and his band, dressed in comfy-looking olive and tan versions of Fidel Castro fatigues, were full of energy, and the audience seemed equally full of Colombians who knew the words to all of their songs. (Traditional songs? Originals? I have no idea, but I suspect a mix of both.)

The last ninety minutes of the day was packed with options. I wanted to cram in as many as I could, so I executed a somewhat-planned circuit. First, I waited with friends to see Bonnie Raitt begin her set on the Gentilly Stage. I’d seen her on this same stage over thirty years ago, and if anything, her slide work is even better now. Wow, she’s such a great bottleneck player, right?! Her cover of John Hiatt’s “Thing Called Love” was bouncy, bluesy, and timeless.

It was hard to leave, but I was on my planned good-times roll. After doing a quick walk-by of Jakob Dylan and the Wallflowers, I ran into two friends who, like me, were on their way to see Earth, Wind, and Fire on the Congo Square Stage. We bravely dove into the thick crowd, wending our way through a thicket of chairs to “Serpentine Fire.” We couldn’t find a comfortable spot to stop, so we just kept going further and further back until we got the encircling track. (Also, we all agreed the sound was too bassy, a common complaint at Congo Square.)

I said goodbye to my pals and skirted the Fairgrounds on the dirt track, grooving a little to Trombone Shorty on the way. My next target was the Blues Tent for George Thorogood and the Destroyers. Only the Jazz Tent stood in my way, so I answered the challenge by walking right through it for a tiny taste of Tower of Power. Took some pics, saw some friends, kept moving. I was on a mission.

George Thorogood was worth the journey. I hadn’t seen him play in maybe forty years! (He hardly looked like he’d aged a day.) The highlight for me was “One Bourbon, One Scotch, and One Beer,” his classic story about skipping out on the month’s rent. The audience chimed in with "...Out the door I went" each time the refrain came around. Thorogood is a master showman whose chops, rock-star poses, and audience engagement have aged like fine bourbon. Still and always bad to the bone.

But I wasn’t quite done yet. A quick dance at the Jazz & Heritage Stage with Big Chief Bo Dollis Jr. and his family with The Wild Magnolias, and then I was ready for the finale.

For decades, the Neville Brothers closed the Festival Stage (known over the years as the Fess Stage and then, during many years of corporate sponsorship, as the Acura Stage). Since Aaron Neville retired from performing in 2020, and Charles and Art have departed from God’s green earth, Cyril is the only one of those four famous brothers still appearing on stages. But in their stead, Trombone Shorty and Orleans Avenue earned the hometown honor as the traditional Festival closing act. And as usual, “Uptown Ruler” Cyril was on hand Sunday to extend the tradition.

From what I hear, the crowd for the previous set, a tribute to longtime fest regular Jimmy Buffet featuring his Coral Reefer Band, had been massive. But it seems they’d all skedaddled off to see Bonnie Raitt, Earth, Wind, and Fire, George Thorogood, The Wallflowers, etc. I was pleasantly surprised to find my way to the GA rail instead of having to navigate yet another horde. There were plenty of fans, it just wasn’t a swarm.

Was it unplanned when Shorty and Cyril whispered to each other and then took over the drum and percussion kits for a rhythm duo? They made it seem impromptu. Shorty can play anything, and Cyril is a master rhythmist. The N’awlins groove is deep in their blood, and it was fun to watch them having such a good time together.

Finally, Trombone Shorty and Orleans Avenue closed their set with a crescendo, and Shorty lifted his trumpet and trombone high overhead in triumph. Founder Quint Davis thanked the weather. Another year at the Fairgrounds—with a reported half million visitors over two weekends!—was in the history books.

⚜ ⚜ ⚜

This is where I might tell about one last club night, but I bailed on going out after a scrumptious dinner with good friends at Shaya, a gourmet Israeli food restaurant on Magazine Street. With hearts and bellies full, we celebrated yet another indescribably fabulous trip to New Orleans and another truly memorable year of Jazzfest.

Wasn’t my first and won’t be my last!

The High Sierra Music Festival, one of California's longest-running annual music festivals, is celebrating its 32nd year on July 4-7, 2024, in the golden Sierra hills of Quincy. Headliners this year include Ziggy Marley, Primus, and Greensky Bluegrass. They will be joined by a wide variety of bluegrass, jam, Americana, funk, folk, and worldbeat acts on multiple stages at the Plumas County Fairgrounds.

Also on the bill: Jerry Harrison and Adrian Belew are bringing their funk-tastic Talking Heads 'Remain in Light' show, The Allman Betts Band will provide tasty southern-fried rock, and Larkin Poe is sure to fire up the crowd with their blues-based harmonies. Jam band fans will groove to Eggy, ALO, and Dogs in a Pile. For international flavor, enjoy the music of Cuba's Cimafunk and Niger's Bombino. Bluegrass and Americana will be supplied by AJ Lee and Blue Summit, Sam Grisman Project, and more.

High Sierra Co-Producer David Margulies sums it up: “High Sierra appeals to music lovers of all types. That cannot be more apparent than by the lineup this year. It’s endless how broad the reach of the lineup is.”

Margulies also boasts that High Sierra is “an experience that is unparalleled. Our audience can count on discovering some of their new favorite bands year in and year out.” And indeed, many of the acts who are not yet headliners are sure to be tomorrow’s superstars. Past performers on some of the smaller stages at High Sierra who have climbed to national touring headliner status include the Lumineers, the Revivalists, JRAD, Grace Potter, Margo Price, Samantha Fish, and Lukas Nelson.

In addition to daily lineups on three stages featuring over 40 performers, High Sierra also hosts its famous Playshops. Each Playshop is a unique amalgamation of artists who typically do not regularly play with each other. This year's Playshops include a tribute to Paul Simon and a celebration of the music of New Orleans funk innovators the Meters, with more to be announced. Not sold yet? Late-night shows after the main stage closes include headliners The Polish Ambassador, the Floozies, and Ghost-Note.

"Artists at Large" Scott Pemberton and Lebo will roam from stage to stage as musical ambassadors. Chris Chandler and Steve Poltz will garner smiles and laughter with their tall-ish tales. Holly Bowling will blow everyone away on a grand piano. And so on—as Margulies says, the talent is nearly endless!

It’s more than just music. High Sierra has something for everyone: a variety of tasty food and inventive crafts for sale, daily parades, shady and sunny venues, and even a family camping area and a Family Zone with activities for kids of all ages. Parents can even enjoy some kid-free evening time by reserving a babysitting spot with the Rockin’ Nannies, a group of qualified educators, professionals, and CPR-certified child-care providers.

Costume themes are another specialty at High Sierra. This year, many attendees will dress appropriately for Cartoon Thursday, 80's Friday, Silver Saturday, and Barbie & Ken Sunday (think "pink"). Silent disco, wine tasting, massage service—the possibilities for fun and indulgence never seem to end.

Four-day tickets for this annual festival include onsite camping, and single-day tickets can be purchased as well. Visit the High Sierra website to see which acts are playing each day. A limited number of RV passes are still available too, as well as VIP “FestivALL” passes with or without RV access. All tickets are on sale now.

The "FestivALL" packages include VIP lounge and front-row access at the main stage, prime camping, and private early entry to the fairgrounds; these are also part of the deal. FestivALL Manager Theresa Hayle would love to treat you right: “FestivALL is the ONLY way to go to High Sierra. It's VIP treatment from start to finish, early entry, access to all late-night shows, and you get to dance in the pit directly in front of your favorite band. Plus you get to hang in the coolest place in the fairgrounds and get pampered all weekend long!”

However you “do” High Sierra, you’re sure to have a blast. As Margulies says, “People bring their best and are at their best at High Sierra. And it brings out the best in people.” The best fest in the west invites you to join the fun!

Visit the High Sierra Music Festival Website at www.highsierramusic.com.
Purchase tickets at https://www.highsierramusic.com/tickets

The third annual Mill Valley Music Festival on May 11-12 combined elements of a delightfully eclectic daytime concert with a town fair, providing two days of entertainment for all ages in this quintessential Marin County locale. Headliners Greensky Bluegrass, Fleet Foxes, and many other performers thrilled adults and children alike, and a host of crafts and activities across the aptly named Friends Field provided hours of fun for those who preferred to keep the music in the background.

"This is about as homegrown of an event as you can possibly have," said Jim Welte, Mill Valley Chamber of Commerce Executive Director and festival producer. "We're proud of it and happy to put our community on the map in a way that brings people in from out of town." Over 10,000 total attendees were part of this year's festivities.

In addition to arts, crafts, and food almost exclusively provided by over 50 southern Marin County vendors and volunteer groups, the hometown ambiance was also represented by numerous local musical acts. For instance, the first main stage performer on Saturday was singer-songwriter Meels, the stage name of Mill Valley native Amelia Einhorn. In fact, most of the performers on the smaller Sweetwater Stage, hosted by the venerable Mill Valley nightclub, were locals too—like childhood friends Maia Ciambriello and Sasha Goldberg, who perform together as The Army, The Navy. "We grew up in Mill Valley playing soccer on this field," they told the adoring crowd of parents, friends, and newcomers who came to hear the duo's charming harmonies.

The first "national" act on the main stage on the other side of that soccer field was Danielle Ponder. Now 42, the Rochester, NY, native spent most of her adult life as a practicing attorney. Many Bay Area music fans got their first taste of Ponder when she got tapped one morning to fill in for someone who was not able to perform on one of the big stages at San Francisco's Hardly Strictly Bluegrass festival in 2022. She wowed the crowd then with her striking voice singing a mix of soul, R&B, and trip hop, and did so again on Saturday.

Ponder sang some of her self-described "breakup songs" from her debut album, including "Only the Lonely." Then she made a request to the audience: "This is literally the last song I wrote about my breakup. So now if anyone wants to date me, and it's very toxic just for like six months?" You know, so she can write more breakup songs. (No word on whether she had any takers.)

Next, the mood shifted from R&B to the lo-fi alt-folk music of Eric D. Johnson's Fruit Bats. The band's website describes Fruit Bats' music as "a pitch-perfect blend of tone and lyricism that taps into our shared apprehensions and hopes for a post-pandemic life." It's not quite shoegaze material, but perhaps shoegaze-adjacent. (Johnson is also a self-avowed Deadhead, and he's been on stage with Joe Russo's Almost Dead a few times.)

Johnson led his band through a set of songs familiar to many of the indie fans in the crowd. Some sang along to "The Bottom of It" and "Humbug Mountain Song." Johnson smiled in response to the applause he received after each tune, but he only addressed the crowd a few times. On one occasion, he asked, "How is everyone?" Someone in the audience asked how he was doing. He answered humbly, like nobody had ever asked him that before: "I'm doing great! Thanks for asking."

Meanwhile, further back on the field, kids were getting their faces painted, making tie-dye t-shirts, and playing with hula hoops and giant blow-up honey bears. The food lines grew longer during the afternoon, but none were as long as the line for Angela's Ice Cream.

San Diego "sweet soul" band Thee Sacred Souls was 20 minutes late due to technical issues, but singer Josh Lane and company lost no time revving up the crowd once they hit the stage. A fanatic fanbase found their way to the rail, and they were rewarded when Lane came down from the stage to get right in their faces in the pit for "Will I See You Again?"

Later, Lane went even further into the crowd during "Running Away." Testing the distance limits of his wireless mic, Lane literally jogged throughout the crowd while singing, and then plopped down for a moment to sing a line in an empty lawn chair next to some guy like they were best friends.

When Thee Sacred Souls were done, there was a moment before the next band started up on the Sweetwater Stage. Eight or nine people jumped up to do an impromptu line dance version of The Hustle while Van McCoy's iconic 1975 disco hit played on the PA. But then Asher Belsky and his trio started playing a cover of "Ain't No Sunshine," and everyone's attention turned to the 19-year-old prodigy from San Francisco. Bound for main stages, Belsky has it all—technical guitar chops, a sweet voice, and tasty jazz-rock compositions of his own.

Day One ended with Fleet Foxes on the big stage. With their dynamic harmonies and well-crafted song catalog, the seasoned Seattle indie rockers pleased their old fans and made some new ones with songs including "White Winter Hymnal," "Mykonos," and "Blue Ridge Mountains." A superfan on the rail waited patiently to give lead singer Robin Pecknold a bouquet of red roses.

It was a perfect day of weather, music, community, and good times.

Day Two was no different in that regard. Mt. Tamalpais loomed majestically in the background (as iconic mountains do). It was sunny with temperatures in the high 60s, perhaps a bit cooler than Day One. The only clouds in sight were curls of fog that topped the Marin Headlands hills to the south, which remained there all day and never threatened to advance. A steady breeze all weekend animated the hair of every performer.

Day Two was also Mother's Day. The audience seemed a tad thinner on Sunday, perhaps due to mothers who insisted on doing something with their families other than attending a music festival. But if so, they missed out the pair of greeters who handed roses to mothers as they walked through the entrance (and to anyone else who wanted one).

Several of the performers mentioned the significance of the day. For instance, the lead singer of Mullet Daddy, a band of high schoolers from the Marin School of the Arts Rock program playing on the Sweetwater Stage, said, "I want to thank every beautiful mom who came out here today." (She also underscored a generational divide by introducing the band's cover of Toto's "Roxanna": "Everyone's gonna know this one. At least, the parents will know this one.")

Sonoma County swamp rocker Eric Lindell kicked off the main stage schedule with a band that included Danny Eisenberg, a frequent collaborator on the Bay Area music scene (and unofficial "fifth member" of local jam faves The Mother Hips) on keys. Lindell sings and plays guitar in a style reminiscent of Dickey Betts, and members of the crowd were on their feet for most of his southern rock set.

Across the field at the Sweetwater Stage, Roadkill was proving that punk rock is alive and well. The trio started off with Husker Du's "Don't Want to Know If You Are Lonely," followed by a string of originals. First-time Roadkill audience members who were intrigued by the Festival's website description of singer Joshua Higgins as a "5-star Taco Bell cashier" were rewarded with a fun throwback sound.

Rebirth Brass Band brought some New Orleans spirit to Mill Valley on the big stage a week after the New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival. The Grammy winners who got their start in a Treme district high school over 40 years ago are still going strong with old and new members providing funky beats.

As festival attendees traversed the field, there were ample reminders that the event was about more than just music. Booths were set up to help promote community events like the annual Mountain Play production high above Mill Valley on Mt. Tamalpais. (This year, the play will be "Kinky Boots.") Mill Valley's Tamalpais High School had a visual arts display, and other local artists had works on display in two walk-in truck trailers hosted by Marin Open Studios. Student writers from the Marin School of The Arts creative writing program created hand-typed "on-demand" poems.

Another important part of the community landscape: festival proceeds each year are contributed to three different beneficiaries, each an entirely local, nonprofit organization who brings value to the Mill Valley community. This year's beneficiaries were:

• Kiddo! (https://kiddo.org), whose core purpose is to provide funding for comprehensive arts programs in vocal and instrumental music, visual art, dance, drama and poetry for children in the Mill Valley School District.

• Tam High Foundation (https://www.tamhighfoundation.org/), which provides funds for bridging state and local funding gaps to provide academic enrichment programs, technology, guest teachers, equity, and wellness for every student.

• Mill Valley Friends of Parks & Recreation (https://www.mvfriends.org), a nonprofit that facilitates, enhances, and promotes the activities and resources of the city's parks and recreation facilities and services.

Back near the Sweetwater Stage, couples and families queued up to have pictures taken in the Das-Bus photo booth, while Anna Jae and her crew of local musicians provided a fun, good-time rock and roll soundtrack. Holding up a large amethyst crystal between songs, Jae spoke about the pressure it took to create such a wonder—and segued into a life metaphor about the pressure we all feel in our daily lives: "I just have to believe that it's building us to be something beautiful."

Music fans who have experienced the gospel of St. Paul and the Broken Bones know to expect some soulful preaching about love and passion. Newcomers to St. Paul may have been surprised initially by the singer's middle-aged man-on-the-street appearance, but he quickly won their attention with his falsetto—not to mention his striking rock star poses. And when he donned a sparkly preacher's robe midway through the set and came into the crowd to preach his R&B gospel of love, it was hard not to be converted.

He may look like an old-school caricature of an accountant or high school principal, but with almost 70 million replays of "Call Me" on Spotify, it's easy to testify that St. Paul has the chops to raise the holy roof off of a suburban soccer field.

St. Paul is a hard act to follow, but Margo Price had no difficulty rising to the challenge. Her countrified Americana was a perfect fit for Mother's Day. She opened with "Been to the Mountain," which includes the holiday-appropriate lyric, "I've been a child and I've been a mother." A mother herself (she has two children with her husband Jeremy Ivey, who plays guitar in her band), she gave an obligatory shout-out to "all you moms out there."

She got a big cheer when she joined her drummer on her own trap set and shredded some skins. Many fans also noticed she had a big pot leaf and a mushroom embroidered on her dress. (Is it necessary to even mention that "the smell of pot was in the air" in music festival reviews anymore?)

The food lines seemed shorter on Sunday. The longest line on Friends Field was at the face painting table—except for the ice cream line, of course.

The last act on the Sweetwater Stage was local jam band guitar hero John Chi. With a band that included Jordan Feinstein on keys and JP McLean on bass, many patrons of Phil Lesh’s now-defunct Terrapin Crossroads came to see their friends lay down some killer jams.

The finale for the two-day festival was Greensky Bluegrass, the venerable jamgrass band from Kalamazoo, Michigan. Greensky is currently touring with piano virtuoso Holly Bowling on keys, adding a non-traditional element to their already non-traditional bluegrass sound. Many of the songs they played were recently written and recorded with Bowling. (Side note: her very young son, often present at her performances, wows crowds everywhere they go with his dynamic toy guitar playing in the background while mommy plays with her friends.)

For Mother's Day, singer and mandolin player Paul Hoffman changed the words to "Windshield." He pointed out after singing the bitter breakup song (cowritten with Billy Strings) that he’d honored mothers by changing from "There's nothing for a woman left to TAKE from a man" to "There's nothing for a woman left to GIVE to a man." He said, "That’s for the mothers. I have two; my mom and my wife."

Hoffman and Dobro player Anders Beck also joked that they’d dubbed the weekend a "Holly Day" in honor of Bowling’s birthday Saturday and Mother’s Day on Sunday. After the show, Holly's husband gave their little son a bunch of flowers to hand to her on stage. So cute.

But that was after 90 minutes of world-class jamgrass. A cover of Springsteen’s "Atlantic City" melded well with the ensemble’s originals. The picking was supreme on every tune, with Beck, Hoffman, and Bowling sharing turns with banjo player Michael Arlen Bont and guitarist Dave Bruzza. The only complaint? For Greensky, this was a short show!

After it was over, showrunner Jim Welte could be found spinning records at a DJ table set up behind the main stage mixing board. He expressed positive vibes about the success of the weekend. In fact, positive vibes were all around—evident in the smiles carried home by the exiting crowd.

Pearl Jam, My Morning Jacket, and over 25 other acts rocked Napa Valley at the annual BottleRock festival on Saturday, May 25. The music was magnificent, the weather cooperated well enough, and concert attendees rounded out their experience – and perhaps their bellies – with a wide variety of muscats, chardonnays, and provincial farm-to-table cuisine. (This report only covers Saturday. Other headliners during the three-day weekend festival included Stevie Nicks and Megan Thee Stallion on Friday; Ed Sheeran and Queens of the Stone Age on Sunday.)

BottleRock Napa Valley is one of NorCal's largest annual music festivals. For the past decade (only skipping 2020 due to COVID), BottleRock has presented a wide variety of rock, rap, pop, country, indie, funk, and Latin music performers. The festival organizers also do a damn good job showcasing the local flavors of this world-famous wine region, both literally and figuratively. About 20 local vineyards serve dozens of wines and other fermented spirits, including a selection of taste flights for novices and connoisseurs. The food selection includes perhaps more Michelin-starred restaurants than any festival in America.

The ambiance is decidedly NorCal. A few Burning Man-ish art pieces are scattered around the grounds, including Laura Kimpton’s selfie-magnet LOVE sculpture. Tall cedars dot the landscape inside the fence lines, competing for airspace with installations of a 30-foot bouquet of golden poppies and a windmill. Oak-covered golden hills in the distance complete the scene.

The festival has nine venues, including the main stage in front of a large field ringed by VIP bleachers and food stands. There are three increasingly smaller stages (one of them shaded by a big pavilion) and two dance music scenes, an indoor club, and a Silent Disco experience. VIP ticket holders have access to a “private” stage. The popular Culinary Stage hosts cooking demos and pairs celebrity chefs with celebrity musicians, actors, and the occasional Stephen Curry.

Music festival lovers know it’s impossible to see and do everything at events like this. Your humble reporter didn’t make it over to see T-Pain or Kali Uchis (okay, I admit, I never heard of her, but she did headline the second-biggest stage). I never even made it to all the smaller stages on this visit. And I arrived too late to see Celisse, catching only the last two minutes of her set. If I’d done more homework, I would have known not to miss a moment of her performance! That’s what festivals are like. Decisions, sacrifices, new discoveries.

That being said, my report here focuses on three acts, with some notes at the end about some of the other performances of the day.

PEARL JAM

Pearl Jam is in the midst of a world tour that is nearing the end of its U.S. leg. They're featuring half or more of their new album Dark Matter (only their second album in the past 10 years) in the set list each night.

For two hours on the main stage at BottleRock, Pearl Jam alternated between new songs, a string of hits that have cemented their status as one of America’s most successful rock bands, and a few surprises. Fans who follow such things love that each night on tour is a completely different Pearl Jam show. Unexpected touches keep the old songs fresh – for instance, on Saturday, the band veered into a mini-cover of Pink Floyd’s “Another Brick in the Wall (Part 2)” at the end of “Daughter.” To top it off, singer Eddie Vedder freshened up the lyric with his own take on the classic refrain: “Preacher, leave our kids alone. Religion, leave women’s rights alone.”

Vedder also gave a nod to the locals, saying Napa Valley residents were “lucky bastards” to get to live here. Later, during “Wishlist,” he extemporaneously added to the song’s list of wishes: “Drink red wine at noon o’clock – sounds a lot like BottleRock.” After that song, he told the audience he had one more wish to share: “What we’re really waiting for is a chance to vote for Steph Curry for president.”

Pearl Jam’s lineup has been steady for the past 26 years. Relative newcomer Matt Cameron has sat behind the drum kit since 1998, backing founding members Vedder on vocals and guitar, Mike McCready on lead guitar, Stone Gossard on rhythm (and occasional lead) guitar, and Jeff Ament on bass. Touring members Boom Gaspar (keys) and Josh Klinghoffer (also a former Red Hot Chili Peppers guitarist) round out the sound when a bigger kick is needed.

There may not be any other American rock band that can kick ass and take names as well as Pearl Jam.

The new album might not win them any new fans, but it’s sure to please Pearl Jam acolytes, particularly those whose proclivities lean toward the louder, thrashier side of the ledger. “React, Respond” and “Wreckage,” two of the new ones in Saturday’s set list, may never earn the familiarity of “Why Go” or “Even Flow” (both of which were also in the lineup that night), but the audience pumped fists and played air guitar during McCready’s guitar solos on the newbies nonetheless.

Likewise, “Waiting for Stevie,” one of the most melodic songs on Dark Matter, may never earn the radio replays of “Black” or “Daughter,” the biggest singalongs of the night. Still, Vedder’s voice on “Stevie” has never been better, his range never more dynamic.

The lyrics on Dark Matter occasionally suggest Vedder’s confidence and maturity, perhaps a shift from earlier, darker songwriting subjects. In “Wreckage,” he declares that, “I no longer give a fuck who is wrong and who's right.” But he also waxes nostalgic. In “Scared of Fear,” he recalls that, “We used to laugh, we used to sing, we used to dance, we had our own scene.” Uh, hey buddy, look at this crowd of 60,000 people. You’ve still got your own scene!

Vedder talked between songs, introducing some of the new ones and occasionally bantering with front-row rail riders who waited hours for their favorite band. Toward the end of the show, he tossed tambourines to a few lucky folks.

McCready built his energy during the show, delivering increasingly mind-blowing solos. During “Even Flow,” he played the entire jam holding his guitar up behind his head, walking about nonchalantly like he was just watering his lawn or some other mundane task. McCready long ago earned accolades as one of grunge’s premier lead guitarists, and anyone who didn’t already know that got schooled on Saturday night.

After 90 minutes, the band left Vedder on stage for a solo version of his Eddie Cochran cover “Last Kiss,” which he dedicated to his wife. (A bit odd, considering the subject matter of the lyrics, but it is a love song, so there ya go.) Next, he introduced actor Bradley Cooper, and the two dueted on “Maybe It's Time,” a song Jason Isbell wrote for Cooper to croon in his movie “A Star is Born.” Cooper and Vedder share baritones, and they meshed well together.

Finally, the band came back for a few more rockers, closing with their anthemic first-album hit “Alive” before a raucous cover of Neil Young’s “Rockin’ in the Free World.” Gossard got to solo on that one, proving he’s no slouch sideman.

Pearl Jam – a force to be reckoned with, a band still in its prime after more than three decades.

MY MORNING JACKET

A few hours earlier, My Morning Jacket (MMJ) owned a late-afternoon spot on the main stage. The Kentucky countryish jam band has come a long way from when I first saw them opening a three-act show in a San Francisco club over two decades ago. Those young kids barely looked up from their instruments to lock eyes with the audience during their short set, and Jim James hadn't yet become a powerhouse Energizer Bunny frontman.

That was then. This is now.

MMJ settled into their current lineup twenty years ago. Vocalist/guitarist Jim James, bassist Tom Blankenship, drummer Patrick Hallahan, guitarist Carl Broemel, and keyboardist Bo Koster long ago moved beyond their stage shyness and learned to work the crowd like seasoned pros. Hallahan began Saturday’s set with his sticks held high like he was leading a parade, commanding attention before he even pounded his first beats. Blankenship and Broemel were often on the move during the all-too-short hourlong performance, strutting to the front of the stage or toward the back to play eye to eye with Hallahan.

James is a prototypical frontman, a wild-haired ball of confidence and bravado. Whether clutching the mic or accompanying the music on guitar, he is as engaging to watch as he is to hear. Make no mistake though, it’s the music that drives this tour bus.

Both James and Broemel are talented enough to hog the spotlight as the sole lead guitarist in any band. The two trade off on leads from song to song, each earning “wooooos” from the large crowd. Even so, it’s James's voice that makes MMJ something special. He has a unique vocal quality, an alto range with timbre unlike any other singer I can think of. Maybe a hint of James Taylor, but also a big dose of – something I can’t put my finger on. Hence, unique.

Saturday’s set included both “Touch Me I'm Going to Scream, Pt. 1” (a mid-tempo rocker) and “Touch Me I'm Going to Scream, Pt. 2” (also mid-tempo, but more haunting and moodier). A cover of George Harrison’s “Give Me Love (Give Me Peace on Earth)” gave James a chance to earn some points with newcomers unfamiliar with MMJ’s arcane catalog.

The quintet closed their set with their most well-known song, “Wordless Chorus.” Members of the USC marching band accompanied MMJ on stage for this one. The audacity of singing “We are the innovators, they are the imitators” may be too much for some, but MMJ is indeed hard to define, hard to compare. It’s likely they earned some new fans who were waiting for Pearl Jam.

MMJ is on tour this summer. In addition to the usual lineup of festivals and amphitheaters, MMJ will play a "special" four-night run at San Francisco's Fillmore Auditorium this week. Watch this space for a report from one of those shows.

CULINARY STAGE: CURRY, COOPER, AND ANDRÉS

Part of the vino-comestible experience at BottleRock is the action on the Culinary Stage. Saturday's guest chefs included BBQ king Rodney Scott cooking up some pig with T-Pain, and a fun, comedic intermingling of drag queen Bianca Del Rio with actors and life partners Neil Patrick Harris and David Burtka. (Del Rio said she was, “A virgin … BottleRocker.”)

The biggest crowd of the day (and probably the whole weekend) at the Culinary Stage was another unlikely trio. Restaurateur and World Central Kitchen benefactor José Andrés welcomed guests NBA all-star Stephen Curry and actor Bradley Cooper for 30 minutes of silliness. At least 5,000 people packed the tiny lawn in front of the stage, and a scrum of over 40 photographers moshed in the pit. For the record, there were some people behind them who seemed to be preparing foods, but there was no actual culinary demonstration whatsoever.

The “set” began with Andrés asking for a moment of silence for World Kitchen volunteers recently killed in Gaza. A serious moment of solace and contemplation was followed by an eruption of cheers for Curry when he swaggered on stage.

What followed might be best described as “Steph Curry throws things to the audience.”

First, he and Andrés tossed souvenir frisbees into the crowd. Next, they threw bags of potato chips. A fan tossed a pair of shoes laced together for Curry to autograph. He obliged and threw the shoes back. Later, he did the same with a Warriors cap.

Next, Andrés introduced Bradley Cooper, who came on stage with his new business partner Danny DiGiampietro from Philly’s famous cheesesteak spot Angelo’s. They brought with them a big box of foil-wrapped cheesesteaks – which he, Curry, and Andrés began tossing to the crowd. Curry also tried to sink a few sandwiches through a basketball hoop set up on the side of the stage while Cooper egged him on (and Andrés bet against him).

It wasn’t all just fun and frolicking. The hoops star was here ostensibly to market his line of bourbon, which he imbibed in copious amounts during the event to demonstrate its quality. Of course, he could have also been celebrating the birth of his fourth child with celebrity chef Ayesha Curry (who has also appeared on this stage at BottleRock). Either way, he was the obvious big draw, despite a smattering of Bradley Cooper fans.

Andrés joked that it was nice Curry could be here instead of, well, still working. (The NBA postseason is Warrior-less.) Curry took it in stride; he seemed to be having the time of his life.

… AND THE REST

Moonalice has appeared at many (if not all) BottleRock festivals. Benefactor Roger McNamee has assembled a stellar post-COVID lineup that features vocals from Lester Chambers (of the Chambers Brothers) his son Dylan Chambers, and the T Sisters (“sassy sister folk” trio Erika, Chloe, and Rachel Tietjen). An all-star band of Barry Sless (lead guitar), Pete Sears (bass), Jason Crosby (keys), and John Molo (drums) accompany McNamee’s rhythm guitar.

The T Sisters opened this set with their catchy “Woo Woo.” Lester Chambers always wows the crowd with his own hits (with his brothers) “People Get Ready” and “Time Has Come Today.” Sless and Crosby are among the finest soloists in jambandlandia. Always a fun time with Moonalice!

Celisse was shredding some incredible guitar riffs when I stumbled near her stage. Damn, wish I’d seen that whole thing! She said she was thrilled to finally be able to play a festival stage like this after working so many years to get noticed.

The Record Company has a big-little fan base who appreciates their solid, blues-based rock. Hailing from LA, Chris Vos (guitar, lead vocals), Alex Stiff (bass, backing vocals), and Marc Cazorla (drums, backing vocals) know how to fire up the energy and keep it burning.

Young NorCal performers The Alive have played BottleRock before, opening the main stage a few years ago. They’re still teens, but they’ve got old souls infused with Black Sabbath, Led Zeppelin – and gosh, do you think they’ve ever heard Nirvana?!

Holly Humberstone brought some light Britpop to BottleRock. Her singer-songwriter vibe has a touch of T-Swift, that mix of country roots with pop sensibilities.

Silent Disco is always as fun to watch as it is to join.

And … that’s a wrap for BottleRock 2024.

The hottest tickets in San Francisco this week were for My Morning Jacket's four-night run at The Fillmore. Currently on tour playing amphitheaters and music festivals, the Kentucky-based quintet drew fans from far and wide for this special and relatively intimate event, with a promise of no repeats and a guarantee of serious shreds.

The legendary club was packed to the gills on Tuesday night by the time My Morning Jacket (MMJ) took the stage for the second outing of the run. Matty from Dallas, on his first trip to the City by the Bay, was front and center. Some dude who flew in from Japan stood nearby. A photographer who joined me (and a slew of others) in the photo pit came all the way from the exotic land of Chicago.

Was it worth the journey? Judging by the thunderous reception throughout the two-hour and twenty-minute set, the answer is an emphatic YES!

The stage was adorned with potted trees on the sides and a jungle of vines hanging from the lighting rig, contributing to MMJ's moody, backwoods aural ambiance. The obligatory smoke machine added slightly to the fog of marijuana drifting toward the stage from the crowd.

MMJ (vocalist/guitarist Jim James, bassist Tom Blankenship, drummer Patrick Hallahan, guitarist Carl Broemel, and keyboardist Bo Koster) owns a unique corner at the crossroads of alt-country, grunge, jam, and classic rock. It's a sweet spot midway between Neil Young's mellowness and his Crazy Horseness, with heavy scaffolding built upon foundations of Pink Floyd and the Dead. Wilco lives nearby, but their houses are painted differently.

James' voice is the most distinctive thing about MMJ. His timbre is unlike anyone in rock. He can sing a sweet falsetto melody, but he's equally captivating with a baritone drone. He and Broemel are both wicked guitar players as well – Broemel is particularly fun to watch as he bows and hops back and forth under a backlit spotlight. Blankenship and Hallahan are likewise full of boundless energy. Only Koster anchors the band to the stage; without him, they might lift off into the stratosphere.

I'll admit to being unfamiliar with the deeper cuts of MMJ's recordings, but some of the busts were evident by the audible oohs and ahhs in the audience. Among these was "Come Closer" from "Split," a weird little 2002 EP that featured four songs by MMJ and one by Songs: Ohia. Stats on setlist.com suggest this was only the 10th performance of "Come Closer" in over 20 years.

Another was "How Could I Know," the B-side from MMJ's 2005 vinyl single of "Off the Record." This tune apparently has been included in their set list only 22 prior times.

Toward the end of the main set, Neil Young's "Harvest Moon" made an appearance. Singer Jim James waxed nostalgic about playing this song with Young at the latter's 2013 Bridge School Benefit just an hour down the road in Mountain View. (Tuesday's version was the fourth time for "Harvest Moon" in an MMJ set.)

A few songs later, MMJ punked out on the Beach Boys' seminal California classic "I Get Around." James' voice rose from its deepest to his highest extremes on the famous refrain. (Second cover of this song ever by MMJ following a performance at a Grammy Salute to the Beach Boys last year, and first time in their own concert setlist.)

Covers and rare B-sides were fun, but the standbys stood out as well. A back-to-back segment of the set that included "I Think I'm Going to Hell" and "Victory Dance" was a notable and poignant stretch, traveling from the bleakness of "Devils and demons are comin', mothers and children beware" to the hopefulness of "Speaking through you, speaking to you, from all of heaven's possibility."

Before closing the set with "Anytime," James addressed the fans to wallow in the joyousness of the gathering: "Of all the places on earth, we're right here in the Fillmore right now. Yeah, we must have done something right!"

Before ending the lengthy encore with "One Big Holiday," MMJ treated the audience to a dynamic version of "Spring (Among the Living)." They started up slow with what sounded like a "Dear Prudence" riff before jumping into high gear – and then coasted back into the "Prudence" riff while James crooned the iconic "Look around 'round 'round" lyric in a meditative monotone.

"It's beautiful and so are you." It was a mutual appreciation moment between MMJ and their faithful fans.

SETLIST:

    In Color
    It's About Twilight Now
    Strangulation!
    War Begun
    Slow Slow Tune
    The Way That He Sings
    X-Mas Curtain
    Never in the Real World
    How Could I Know
    I Will Sing You Songs
    Harvest Moon (Neil Young cover)
    Come Closer
    I Think I'm Going to Hell
    Victory Dance
    Aluminum Park
    I Get Around (The Beach Boys cover)
    Anytime

Encore:

    Old Sept. Blues (with Sleep Walk intro, Santo & Johnny cover)
    It Beats 4 U
    Spring (Among the Living) (with Dear Prudence tag, Beatles cover)
    One Big Holiday

I didn’t plan on going to the Sphere to see Dead and Company (a.k.a. “Dead & Co.”) during their months-long “Dead Forever” residency. But after missing U2 and Phish during the inaugural year of the high-tech Las Vegas arena, it was high time I went to check out the uber-visual experience. It doesn’t hurt that Dead & Co. (featuring Grateful Dead alumni Bob Weir on guitar and vocals and Mickey Hart on drums and percussion, with John Mayer on lead guitar and vocals, Oteil Burbridge on bass, Jeff Chimenti on keys and vocals, and Jay Lane on drums) plays some of my favorite music. And the early reports from friends and other fans about The Sphere itself were glowing.

My wife and I decided just a few weeks ago to join the pilgrimage. We picked a date that coincided with a friend’s birthday, planning to surprise her by showing up in Vegas unannounced. We hooked up with a pair of tickets via CashOrTrade.com and booked a flight using miles.

The first time I saw the Grateful Dead in Las Vegas was at the Aladdin Hotel in 1983. I traveled from L.A. on a pot-smoke-filled chartered bus full of 60 deadheads. The second time was the following year with ten guys from Santa Cruz, all of us piled into a rental station wagon for ten hours to get to Vegas. The hotel and casino workers were all on strike that year — except at the Aladdin, which was a non-union shop. The PA in the casino before the show was abuzz with pages for “August West,” “Jack Straw,” and members of the band. Great memories!

So yes, forty years had passed since I’d been to Vegas for a Dead show. (I skipped the Silver Stadium years.)

The Sphere is one of the newest additions to the Las Vegas skyline. The outside of the globe displays animated projections 24/7, such as a rotating “Steal Your Face” image featured prominently during Dead & Co.’s residency. The interior has a capacity that can hold around 20,000 people, mostly in seated tiers. The interior visual technology, which covers roughly 2/3 of the arena walls, is billed as the highest-resolution LED screen on the planet.

Our Saturday morning travels started off auspiciously when “deadhead” appeared as one of the words in my morning New York Times “Spelling Bee” puzzle. More auspiciously, our Lyft driver on the way to the Oakland airport was playing the Dead on Spotify. We started talking. Turns out he’s Phil Lesh’s driver when Phil’s in town, and he recognized me from the TXR show with Peter Rowan, Stu Allen and others that I’d photographed last weekend. He even had a picture of me taking a picture of the band! Serendipity doo-dah.

On the other hand, our Lyft driver in Vegas wore a “Let’s Go Brandon” cap (Google it) and was playing some bland modern country. Can’t win ‘em all. But he was friendly enough.

We headed straight for the Venetian Hotel, neighbor of The Sphere and host of the “Dead Forever Experience,” a quasi-gift shop / quasi-museum installation of memorabilia. You know, some band member guitars, a decorated VW bus, an opportunity to have your picture taken with a person in a dancing bear costume, stuff like that. We only spent a few moments inside, and then we stopped to take pictures in the hotel mall atrium (along with many tourists, deadheads and others) of Dancing Bear statues and a “Love” sculpture.

Vegas, as usual, was a sea of humanity — a veritable cornucopia of Americana. Tens of thousands of travelers were kicking off their summer vacations in the adult playground. The World Series of Poker and Christina Aguilera were also in town. And did you know there’s gambling in these parts? Something for everyone. The hotel got more and more crowded as the day wore on.

Next, we headed over to the nearby Tuscany Hotel to do some shopping at “Shakedown Street,” the sanctioned location for vendors hawking everything from tie-dyed t-shirts to jewelry to posters, etc.

When I was a tourhead in the 1980s, we just called it “the lot,” and the lot was a free-for-all smorgasbord of vendors with stalls, free-ranging bumper sticker and t-shirt salespeople, nomads cooking up “kind veggie burritos,” and (to put it euphemistically) an army of entrepreneurs offering experiential enhancements. Nowadays, Shakedown Street is a pay-per-stall shopping experience more akin to a holiday gift show. Housing the marketplace for the Dead & Co. Sphere shows in a completely different hotel a half mile from the arena in a large convention hall room was just plain weird. But the vendors, as always, had some pretty cool shit. No kind veggie burritos, though.

After a brief detour at the Holiday Inn to surprise our birthday buddy (she nearly had a heart attack, so mission accomplished!), we headed over to The Sphere. We entered the arena from an air-conditioned pedestrian bridge that led from the Venetian casino. We did not encounter the long lines we were told to expect. It was more than an hour before showtime, that probably helped. I hear it turns into quite the clusterfuck.

We entered the main atrium of The Sphere, which has a very modern science fiction’y / airport’y feel, and found our way up a series of escalators to our seats in section 300, the third of four elevated sections. We had learned from our homework (by which I mean perusing posts on Facebook) that the upper levels were considered by many fans to be the best for viewing the entirety of the large, curved “screen” that fills nearly the entire field of vision once you’ve entered the arena. We spent the entire show at our seats, mostly standing up and dancing like the majority of the crowd.

At this point, I should mention that I did not have any camera with me other than my iPhone, so all of the pictures posted here are from the same vantage point using a less-than-high-quality lens. As you look through these pictures, take note of the relatively small stage at the bottom of the photos. The band was lit only by a few white spotlights and some rear-stage vertical spots. There was no overhead light rig. The “light show” was the screen videos and animations.

Dead & Co. took the stage just a few minutes past the 7:30 show time. During the opening “Cold Rain and Snow,” the Sphere screen was used sparingly, just some video of the performers. Notably, we could see that Weir and Mayer both had stickers on their guitars that said “32,” the jersey number of NBA legend Bill Walton, a longtime hardcore deadhead and band associate who died recently.

Spherical things began to take off, somewhat more than metaphorically, during the next song, “Mississippi-Half Step Uptown Toodleoo.” An image mirroring the inner scaffolding supporting the hefty sphere globe began to part like a curtain, eliciting the first oohs and aahs of the evening. As this “curtain” parted, a high-def street-side view of several Victorian houses on Ashbury Street in San Francisco — including the famed 710 Ashbury house that once housed the fledgling band in the mid-60s — came into view.

Combining photography and some pretty cool CGI, the view began to widen and rise, revealing in turn the entire Haight-Ashbury neighborhood, the skyline of San Francisco behind it, the entire Bay Area (now viewed from above), and so on until the audience was in outer space looking back at a distant earth. The effect was executed well, giving a strong sense of motion. (And perhaps for some, inciting a touch of vertigo. If you’re susceptible to motion sickness, consider taking Dramamine or something similar before the show.)

Each song thereafter had its own accompanying visuals. There were nebulous blooms of colorful mushroom clouds, fast-moving tire-track swirls, and lightspeed tunnels of color. When a giant disco ball began to spin during “West L.A. Fadeaway,” revealing a mirrored “Steal Your Face” logo with each revolution, it was hard not to feel the room spinning along with it. The effect of motion was quite real and truly mesmerizing.

One of my favorite sequences was during “Jack Straw.” First, an external shot of the storied Winterland Arena appeared behind the band. Soon it morphed into Barton Hall at Cornell University, site of a 1977 Grateful Dead show considered an all-time top ten by many fans. That image in turn segued into Colorado’s Red Rocks Amphitheater, a mecca (not unlike The Sphere today) for deadheads across America. Radio City Music Hall, with a marquee showing dates from the Dead’s 1980 Halloween week run, got the East Coasters to howl their approval.

For “One More Saturday Night,” the first-set closer, a pastiche of dozens of Grateful Dead ticket stubs and backstage passes flooded the dome. Many of us who actually saw the Grateful Dead play took inventory of the shows we’d seen. I didn’t count, but I spotted maybe 20-30 shows I’d attended. (I looked in vain for the show where I met my wife, darn it.)

The sound mix during the first set was not ideal, at least not where we were sitting. It wasn’t bad, but there was a bit of echo in the cavernous Sphere, which was built primarily for visuals, not for sound quality. I would have liked a bit more of the highs. Also, I felt all night that Weir’s mic wasn’t mixed loud enough – and/or he mumbled a lot. Unfortunately, I also think Weir is no longer at the top of his game with lyrics or phrasing. He’s a legend no less. Just noting my impression, don’t hate me.

Indeed, that legendary status, for the entire band and their music, and not just for Weir, is what attracts new fans year after year. A few rows behind me, four mid-20-something bros in tie dyes were as enthusiastic as all the baby boomers and Gen Xers in the house. One said he got turned onto the Dead in high school. Another said his mother was a deadhead. (My friends and I jokingly call these young’uns “BADJ’ers,” a silly acronym for “born after the death of Jerry.”)

While we’re at the break, here’s a big nit to pick with The Sphere: on my level of the arena, the lines for the two men’s room snaked into the atrium with easily over 150 guys in each line. C’mon, arena architects, more urinals please! (Hint: you’ll sell more beer.)

Set two began after a 40-minute break, during which the Sphere screen counted down only the first 30 minutes while showing lyric quotes like, “All good things in all good time.” Then, for Dead & Co.’s cover of Sam Cooke’s “Good Times,” a virtual 250-foot red curtain parted to reveal a giant “Steal Your Face” logo with the live band on video inside the skull where the lightning bolt usually appears.

“Sugar Magnolia” followed. This song was set in front of a pastoral paint-by-numbers scene complete with dancing terrapins and what looked like a tiny Jerry Garcia playing banjo on the front porch of a mountain cabin. It was one of my favorite scenes of the evening. Other visuals in the songs before “Drums” included a depiction of the great pyramids and the sphinx that were the backdrop for the epochal Dead show in Egypt in the late 70s, and a slow flyover above snow-capped Sierra peaks. A myriad of dancing bears, peace signs, and flying eyeballs during “Terrapin Station” was perhaps the “trippiest” segment of the night.

Pre-Drums Interlude (with a “Curmudgeonly Reviewer Rant” alert): Dead & Co. is not my favorite Grateful Dead live music experience in the current era. I’m among those controversial complainers who are not fond of the slower pacing of many Dead & Co. songs, and I often feel they lack a certain punch that, for me, brought the Grateful Dead with Jerry Garcia to a higher place. Again, don’t hate me. It’s my totally subjective opinion, but there it is.

Okay, curmudgeonly rant over.

And that being said, Dead & Co. certainly have their high moments. Mickey Hart, Jay Lane, and Oteil Burbridge always deliver a monster jam during the “Drums” and “Space” segment of the show. Mayer kicked down not just one, but two masterful solos in “Standing on the Moon” that confirm his standing as a unique and gifted interpreter of the GD library. (He’s at his best when he’s not emulating Garcia in any way, just doing his own thing.) And gosh darn it, it’s pretty darn cool to see Weir up there every night after what, 60 years of performing?! Keep on truckin’, Bobby!

About “Drums”: The Sphere has “wired” the seats with “haptic technology” to rumble and vibrate when the house techies flip a switch. (People in the GA floor section don’t get to experience this.) They do this during “Drums” and “Space” each night, and it’s worth sitting down during the jam. The vibrations add a deep visceral feeling — kind of like that all-body jolt you feel when you’re close to a fireworks show and the rockets explode, your heart exploding with them. The sensation adds a lot to the experience. Also during “Drums,” the soundboard folks made the best use of the auditorium’s acoustic potential, spreading bits and pieces of the aural mélange throughout the arena. More of that, please!

The Sphere screen began the “Drums” section of the show by pairing a circular live video of the drummers surrounded by flying tom-toms and other percussion pieces. As the rhythms decayed and Mickey took over on the Beam and his other electronics for “Space,” kaleidoscopic dragonfly eye fractals hypnotized the audience. I could see people on the GA floor lying down on the ground to trip out on the show above them.

After “Drums” and Hart’s portion of “Space” (and then a very short “Space” jam by Weir, Mayer, Burbridge, and Chimenti), the visuals mostly paled for the remainder of the show, generally being subpar and less impressive than everything up to that point. “Standing on the Moon” was one of the best songs of the night — I mentioned those killer Mayer solos — but the only visual was a black and white video of the band playing on stage. For “Good Lovin’,” there were more dancing bears, growing larger and larger as they danced in an increasingly wider and higher spiral. The bears got blurry when they got bigger, and the tie-dye digital backdrop was pixilated and not as pretty as it could have been.

Things picked up for “Deal” as a photographic Wall of Sound was assembled piece by piece on the screen behind the band. Like the earlier images of Egypt, Barton Hall, etc., it evoked the Dead’s history and added a timeless connection to days gone by.

For “Knocking on Heaven’s Door,” the visuals took us back to where we started, (literally, visually) from outer space back to Ashbury Street. It was cool, but the outward journey during “Mississippi Half Step” in the first set was cooler, and the déjà vu in reverse was not as magical as the initial thrill ride.

Bringing it all back home, Dead & Co. closed the set (there was no encore) with the anthemic beat of Buddy Holly’s “Not Fade Away.” Once more establishing and honoring their deep roots, photographs of the many predecessors of the current lineup floated on screen. Garcia got the biggest cheers, of course.

Overall, I’d give the visual experience an A-. Where it was good, it was epic. At times, it was underwhelming, especially after “Drums” as I noted above. To be fair, I don’t know how much variety the visual engineers pack into each night, and perhaps this was not their best selection. Like the music in every Dead show (the OGs, Dead & Co., and every cover band), you can’t expect every night to be an all-timer.

Regarding climate: we’d heard the temperature in the arena was cold. For me, it was just right for dancing, but people who don’t move a lot or just sit might want to bring a layer. Your experience may vary. If you’re someone who gets chilled easily and doesn’t expect to burn a lot of calories during a Sphere show, bring a long-sleeved shirt or light jacket. Otherwise, be prepared to spend a small fortune at the merch booth for a hoodie.

So – was it worth it? Abso-fuckin’-lutely. Could it be better? Ditto. My impression is that the “Dead Forever” Sphere production barely scratched the surface of the capabilities and creative potential of this forum.

I do think the Sphere experience is the shape of the future for many live performances. I foresee the cost and technical challenges of this sort of venue both will decrease over time, and it would not surprise me to see smaller versions of this venue built and operated profitably in regions around the country. A five- to ten-thousand-seat version might be a better fit to allow the audience to see the performers better while still offering a larger-than-life optical thrill ride.

That being said, there is nothing like a Grateful Dead concert, and Dead & Co. falls into that category. During the exodus from the arena (warning: it’s another clusterfuck!), the Deadheads on the crowded escalators frequently burst into “Not Fade Away” clapping and loud roars of approval. “Dead Forever” is no overstatement. The kids, they dance, they shake their bones — and Dead & Co. continue to reign supreme in the land of the Dead. Wave that flag!

SETLIST

Set 1: Cold Rain and Snow Mississippi Half-Step Uptown Toodeloo Bertha West L.A. Fadeaway They Love Each Other Jack Straw One More Saturday Night

Set 2: Good Times Sugar Magnolia Althea Terrapin Station Drums Space Standing on the Moon Good Lovin' Deal Knockin' on Heaven's Door Not Fade Away

Jessica Malone has been honing her singing and songwriting craft for the past decade, hewing close to her Northern California home in both body and musical spirit. On Gold Flowers of the West, her second full-length studio album, Malone farms her California foothill roots (notwithstanding occasional lyrical calls to sisterly locales like Montana and Carolina) and serves up a variety of tasty fruits that have sprung from her labor. Indeed, Gold Flowers is awash with a flavor palette that evokes rolling foothills studded with poppy fields.

Gold Flowers of the West (released independently by Jessica Malone Music) will be available in "hard copy" at Malone's live shows and also on her website beginning June 27. Streaming platforms will drop the album beginning on July 13.

Produced by Nat Keefe (Hot Buttered Rum, Beatmower), the songs on Gold Flowers alternate fairly regularly between jazzy soul (a la Norah Jones) and California country folk, a genre pioneered most notably by Kate Wolf. The overlap in the Venn diagram of these songs is, of course, Malone's voice. She's equally at home in both venues.

Malone says the collection of songs on Gold Flowers (all original compositions) "represents who I am and where I came from in a big way." There are songs about nature, about traveling through redwood groves and along mountainsides, and about what Malone calls "both sides of love." Producer Keefe sums up the subject material as Malone's "soulful understanding of the wide spectrum of life, the highs, the lows, the blues, the joy."

"This album was a winding road; it took a while to accomplish," the singer recalls. The tracks were recorded in Oakland, CA over 18 months ago in 2022. A few of the songs had appeared on a live album in 2018, long before they were ever recorded in the studio. Most of the music, however, was written post-pandemic. The pandemic also gave Malone an opportunity to work with new musicians, as her old bandmates had moved away during the music world's unfortunate hiatus.

She'd never worked with horns before, so that was new too. Producer Sacha Müller initially introduced Malone to the idea of including a brass section on some of her tunes. Malone quickly warmed to the concept, and she set out to find some of the best musicians in the Sacramento music scene to add to her band. It was inspirational bringing sax, trumpet, and trombone on board. Malone told herself, "Let's go, my band has horns now!" She started writing a bit more with a larger sound in mind.

Malone released "Sweet Sunlight," the first song on the album, shortly after it was recorded in 2022. A sweet soul horn intro by Justin Au (trumpet), Brandon Au (trombone), and Byron Colborn (saxophone) leads into a rolling melody that sets the tone for the album in tandem with the chorus lyric: "I've got no reason to complain." Harmonies croon soft "oohs" in the background, and Malone promises that, "We'll watch our troubles roll away." A bright and cheerful sax solo underscores that promise. "Sweet Sunlight" is buoyant and bucolic, setting the tone for the music to follow.

Next up is the title track. A fiddle intro by Giorgi Khokhobashvili (the only musician in Malone's current band who was with her before the pandemic) leads into a soft, sittin'-on-a-front-porch verse. But then the chorus kicks up a storm, adding a toe-tapping backbeat to sell the song's nostalgic urgency: "The coast she cries out to me, anytime I stay away too long." Khokhobashvili's fiddle solo takes the driver's seat for a stretch and keeps the music moving forward at a clip – but at the end, Malone takes back the wheel and coasts into mellow gear.

Throughout Gold Flowers, the accompanying musicians give center stage to Malone, albeit with several bars here and there to echo her melodies with solo runs. Guest appearances include Joe Craven on mandolin (David Grisman Quintet, Garcia and Grisman) and Keefe's Hot Buttered Rum bandmates Eric Yates (Dobro, banjo) and Bryan Horne (bass). Harmonies by Ruby Jaye, Hattie Craven, Rachel Tietjen, Saeeda Wright, and Delessa McDuffey provide colorful shadows, lifting Malone's voice without overpowering her unique timbre.

"Lonesome in Montana" is a fun bluegrassy stomp that cruises at 80 mph along a lonely stretch of Big Sky blacktop. A playful interlude with dueling trombone and fiddle in the middle allows the song to take a breath and enjoy the view at a roadside rest stop. Then it's back to the highway, pedal to the metal, a playful growl in Malone's voice during the final chorus:

Lonesome in Montana

Yea she’s out there on her own

Best part about her leavin’

Gonna be the day she comes back home

Occasionally, Malone's contralto finds equal footing straddling jazz and folk. "Mountainside," the album's penultimate cut, has a midtempo soulful lilt punctuated by Yates' dobro and Khokhobashvili's fiddle in a musical interlude. Malone's vocal melody here is light and memorable, especially when she sings fun lyrics like, "I couldn't tell what you were saying, but it sounded cool."

If Norah Jones is indeed an influence (Malone namechecks Jones, Nicki Bluhm, and Joni Mitchell in her website bio), her presence is felt most strongly on "If It Ends." Malone's phrasing on the opening lyric – "Don't say that it doesn't matter if it ends" – tracks jazzily with the countrified guitar tremolo in this spare arrangement. We're definitely in "both sides of love" country here.

"Carolina's Calling" is another countrified rapid-fire romp. Malone is at ease in front of a world-class bluegrass band, and she shares the spotlight on this song with Khokhobashvili's barnstorming fiddle solo. It's the only song on the album that appears to be neither about nor nostalgic for the Golden State – and even so, Malone can't resist dropping in a reference to "drifting … up and down the west coast." She may have gone to Carolina in her mind, but she's still got her heart in California.

California is certainly a strong theme on Golden Flowers – but it's really Malone's voice that binds all the songs. "She is such a damn good singer," Keefe says. "It opened up possibilities for the recording process because she can sing an astounding keeper take every time. This allowed us to do a lot of things live and in conversation with the instrumental performance that a lesser singer wouldn’t be able to do."

Malone returned the love: "Nat is such a wonderful person. He was such a visionary in the studio. He gave me so many great ideas that shaped my songs in ways that I hadn't thought of."

"Bloom" closes the record with more horns and an upbeat N'Awlins rhythm driven by Jaye's boogie-woogie piano. The words are equally upbeat:

Grass is greener on this side of the fence

I’m finally living in the present tense

By some measure, this song is the biggest departure from the musical NorCal landscape traversed by Malone on Gold Flowers of the West. Even so, the closing line on the album ties a neat California wheatgrass bow to sum up the entire album:

We're all doin' it for love.

Hard to argue against that message.

Jessica Malone is appearing at two album release parties in the coming weeks:

• Sweetwater Music Hall, Mill Valley CA, Thursday June 27, 2024

• The Sofia, Sacramento CA, Saturday July 13, 2024

For tickets, other tour dates, and more information, visit www.jessicamalonemusic.com

Gold Flowers of the West
Track List:

01 Sweet Sunlight
02 Gold Flowers of the West – LIVE ALBUM 2018
03 Unconditional Love
04 Lonesome in Montana – LIVE ALBUM 2018
05 If It Ends
06 Love Like That
07 Carolina's Calling
08 Sorrow & Joy
09 Mountainside
10 Bloom

There are few music festivals with the legacy of the High Sierra Music Festival (HSMF). After more than thirty years, HSMF has truly become far more than the sum of its parts. Sure, there's a ton of world-class music on several stages, parades, activities for kids, crafts and vendors, killer food, and all that. And of course, there's the camping scene, a hippie town that springs up almost overnight on the Plumas County Fairgrounds for the four-day festival around the Fourth of July each year.

What makes HSMF unique is the legacy of community. After more than three decades, some attendees – and performers too – can literally say they grew up at the fest. Lifelong friendships have been kindled here. People have met the love of their lives. It's a safe bet that some babies can trace their origins to the Shady Grove campground.

That's not meant to discount the quality of music. This year's festival featured headliners that exemplify the broad spectrum of performers HSMF veterans have come to expect: Ziggy Marley, Greensky Bluegrass, Primus, a Talking Heads tribute featuring Jerry Harrison and Adrian Belew, the Allman Betts Band, Larkin Poe, and Marty Stuart. Further down the bill, there's the California Honeydrops, Cuba's Cimafunk, ALO, the Floozies… over forty acts spanning bluegrass and Americana, funk, folk, jam, country, soul, blues, trip-tronic, and all sorts of peripheral and amalgamated genres.

High Sierra Co-Producer David Margulies summed it up: “High Sierra appeals to music lovers of all types. That cannot be more apparent than by the lineup this year. It’s endless how broad the reach of the lineup is.”

Margulies also boasted that High Sierra is “an experience that is unparalleled. Our audience can count on discovering some of their new favorite bands year in and year out.” And indeed, many of the acts on this year's bill who are not yet headliners are sure to be tomorrow’s superstars. Past performers on some of the smaller stages at High Sierra who have climbed to national touring headliner status include the Lumineers, the Revivalists, JRAD, Grace Potter, Margo Price, Samantha Fish, and Lukas Nelson.

The Plumas County Fairgrounds, home of HSMF for over two decades now, become a virtual village for nearly a week each year. HS even has its own radio station, Grizzly Radio! The village is subdivided by campgrounds, including Shady Grove, Family Camp, Hillside, and RV Town. Some people "commute" from more distant camping and RV lots within a quarter mile or so from the festival entrances. A lucky few find AirBnBs or motel rooms in Quincy. (2024 was the first year I stayed offsite, and while I missed some of the late-night and early-morning hubbub, I also got to see two mountain lions on my drive to a rented cabin in the woods one night!)

Some of the group camps within the subdivisions within the village are legendary for hosting their own parties and performances. Camp Happiness, on the border between Shady Grove and Family Camp, has a 4/20 party every year. Past performers have included ALO and Vince Herman (Leftover Salmon). This year's rumpus introduced many attendees to The Lucky Strokes, including HS alumni Eddie Roberts (New Mastersounds) on guitar. Far on the other side of the fairgrounds, Bitchin' Kitchen had, as usual, a stream of live music in its campsite, including Steve Poltz and Anna Moss.

Some bands play HSMF for the first time in "guerilla" sets throughout the campgrounds too. And some of those bands grow up and find their way to one of the "real" stages.

So yeah, it's undeniable that HSMF has music at its core, and that the music is the primary reason people come year after year. This is my twentieth (I think) trip to the usually-quiet mountain burgh of Quincy, CA, for this festival, and I'd be disingenuous to say I don't come for the music. On the other hand, I wouldn't keep coming if it wasn't also a pilgrimage to reconnect with a community forged with love and kindness, sharing and caring.

One of my favorite examples of the spirit of HSMF: one year on Sunday morning (the last of the four days of the festival), a scraggly-lookin' dude was biking around the RV campground in the Big Meadow offering clean socks to anyone who needed them. He had a twelve-pack of white athletic socks he was giving out, and he was crooning, "Who needs freshies?" I mean, who doesn't need freshies?!

The 2024 HSMF was tinged with melancholy. First, the fest organizers posted a message a few months ago to ticket buyers asking for help with more ticket sales. The communique hinted that ticket sales were below expectations – and that prospects for future fests were at risk if sales didn't go up. "If you cherish High Sierra, please consider joining us this year to ensure its survival and evolution." (The 2023 festival was, by all reports, under-attended and likely not profitable.) And then, shortly after that message was distributed to the HSMF community, Roy Carter died. Carter was one of the festival's founders and co-producers. His loss was widely felt. His name was invoked numerous times this weekend, both on and off stage.

As a result, the fest was abuzz this year with conjecture: Will the 33rd HSMF be the last? Could this beautiful thing really come to an end?

Only time will tell.

The future is always a mystery. Omens abound; several people reported there was no "See you next year!" in the final announcement from host Tim Lynch on the Grandstand Stage. Rumors, innuendo, the usual bullshit in a moment of uncertainty. The fact is, we just don't know.

But with the 2024 HSMF now in the history books, I am happy to report that some seriously cool shit went down. I'll chronicle a few highlights below, but this article does not pretend to be a comprehensive music review. (If you read on though, you will eventually get to hear about some of my favorite moments.) Instead, for the most part, I am going to let other members of the High Sierra community tell you what they love about the enduring gifts of this magical, ephemeral space. I offer these remembrances and testimonials in the hope that they don't comprise a eulogy, but rather a snapshot in time amidst a continuing legacy.

Most of the quotes below are from festival attendees, but there are also some performers (including quotes from their stage sets as well as brief interviews), vendors and staffers, and a couple of the event co-producers.

THE MUSIC

"My first High Sierra was 13 years ago. I came for ALO and was blown away by the diversity of music: funk, bluegrass, jam bands, singer/songwriters. I had never been exposed to so much music in one place before. It was delicious and I was hooked!" - Wendy

"My first year was 2008 and I was on my way to the Grandstand to see the band I planned to see when I walked by the Meadow, heard something that stopped me dead in my tracks, and stayed for a band I'd never heard of, Blue Turtle Seduction. And that is what I love about High Sierra, the bands I've never heard of that grab me and don't let go." - Jim

"A moment that will never forget was when Robert Plant busted into 'Going to California' – thousands of people completely silent, engulfed in the magic. I still get chills thinking about it." - Ryan Kerrigan (artist/vendor)

"The camp parties are always amazing, since you never know who is going to show up and play. Some of my favorite sets have taken place in the van, on top of the bus, or in Shady Grove." - Corinne

"From Surprise Me Mr. Davis to Brett Dennen to Boot Juice, sometimes the artists you find playing in the campground turn out to be new favorites." - Joanne

"The magic of High Sierra is often in the 'bottom half' of the lineup. I always find my new favorite band – someone I’ve never heard before amongst all the side stages." - David

"High Sierra has consistently showcased great 'non-commercial' artists on their way up while also presenting the legends to an appreciative creative audience." - Sandy

"It’s High Sierra. They expect a little extra." - Les Claypool (Primus)

THE COMMUNITY

"We come out here to gather, to let our troubles disappear." - Dan "Lebo" Lebowitz (performer, ALO)

"I love High Sierra for the community! It feels like everyone, from the musicians to the people dancing next to you, is your hype person, spreading energy and excitement." - Maya

"The thing I love most about HSMF is the reunion aspect. There are dozens (hundreds?) of people that I see once a year at HSMF, and that means the world to me. I count on it!" - Ryan Kerrigan (artist/vendor)

"I came for the music, but I stayed for the staff." - David

"What I love about the High Sierra music festival [includes] the shiny, happy, wide-open people making eye contact and smiling [and] the well-oiled festival production that creates a stellar experience." - Gina

"[HSMF is a place where] everybody is partying hard and getting fucked up, but they're 'professionals' keeping it together." - Sandy

"For me [HSMF is] where the music and the partying are in a nice symbiotic relationship. The music is really first, and people are having a ball partying. At some festivals, that can get a little off." - Scott Pemberton (performer)

"I love that I am not the only 'old person' attending and having a great time. The crowd is always so nice to all genres of music. You can tell the musicians really enjoy the freedom and collaboration they get at the festival." - Richard

"High Sierra is the kindest festival. Every year I hear a similar refrain of, 'I thought I lost my (backpack, phone, cooler, mind), but when I went back, it was just where I left it!'" - Michelle

THE PLACE

"This right here, HSMF is the alternate reality … there’s something about this festival; everybody’s so cool here." - Chris Chandler (spoken word performer)

"High Sierra helped me connect to the mountains in a way I never had growing up here. One night when I was 22, some friends and I were laying out in a field looking at the stars and talking about the elevation of Quincy. In that moment I became so much more aware of this valley I grew up in, the tree line, the visibility of stars, and the good folks all around me. This festival connects people to their land and their people." - Victoria

"One of my favorite parts of the fest is what I call 'the magic hours' from about 1 am to 5 am on Thursday morning [the first day of the festival]. Everything around the fairgrounds is completely still, but there are still pockets of intense activity getting the magic perfect for the next day." - Michelle

"I love that the caterers and vendors share their leftover food with our small mountain community. I love that this four-day event brings supporters to our local small businesses." - Julz

MUSICAL INTERLUDE #1

As promised, I'll mention just a few musical highlights. Then we'll get back to the testimonials.

Cimafunk is an Afro-Cuban rhythmic powerhouse who channels James Brown. His entire band gives "party" like it's going out of style and there's no time to waste. During both his late-night set in the Vaudeville Tent and his evening show on the Grandstand Stage, Cimafunk invited the audience to come up to dance. A few dozen people took up the offer each time, and their mirth was contagious.

The Playshops are always among the highlights at High Sierra. Fest co-producer Dave Margulies handpicks a variety of artists each year to play together in unusual combinations in the (blessedly) air-conditioned High Sierra Music Hall. Two of this year's Playshops exemplify the magic of these moments.

One was titled "Classic Album Hour – Mescalito Performs The Doors' L.A. Woman." This tribute to The Doors kicked off with a shirtless, leather-panted Paul Hoffman (Greensky Bluegrass) going deep into a Jim Morrison persona for a version of "Ghost Song" from American Prayer, the musical Doors' album of music set to their deceased singer's recorded poetry.

Another Playshop was "Mississippi to Mali." For this one, Bo Carper (New Monsoon) and Walter Strauss were joined on acoustic guitars by Lebo (ALO) and special guest Bombino, a singer-songwriter and phenomenal guitarist from Niger. None of the first three had ever played with Bombino before. The quartet traded African rhythms and leads for a musical conversation that transcended the language barrier. Toward the end of the set, Lebo's bandmate Ezra Lipp and another musician joined on percussion. This musician was just some young dude who had wowed everyone in the campground the night before, and he found himself invited on stage as a reward for his rhythmic awesomeness. So High Sierra!

Primus made a triumphant return to High Sierra. The trio kicked down 90 minutes of their unique brand of alt/jam/fusion/hell-it's-just-Primus music. Larry LaLonde (guitar) and Les Claypool (bass) gave a master class in their distinctive, high-energy pogo-punk rock. And of course, there was an appearance by Claypool's alter ego Mr. Krinkle.

If there was one band that walked away with more new fans than any other, it was probably Larkin Poe. Sisters Rebecca and Megan Lovell started their set in high gear and never slowed down. Their delta blues stage show combines the ferocity of Samantha Fish (that's probably a cliché comparison by now, I admit) and the always-posing presence of Lucius.

And one final note about the main stage lineup this year: Sunday night, the last night of the 2024 festival, was loaded with diverse, multicultural rhythms. The final three acts were Bombino (from Niger), Cimafunk (from Cuba), and Ziggy Marley (from Jamaica). It might be coincidental that this was the lineup in the wake of the unfortunate last-minute cancellation of the Sierra Nevada World Music Festival a few weeks earlier, but it might also signal a worthy endeavor to broaden the fanbase of HSMF for future generations.

THE MEMORIES

"One of my favorite HS memories was 2015 during a very hot String Cheese Incident set at the main stage. Not only the music but it was a really hot day as well. About halfway through the set, it started to rain lightly. The rain shined off the lights and cooled the crowd to smiles all around. Perfect moment. It never rains at High Sierra, and that was the perfect time to break that streak." - Lenny

"In 1997 at the Bear Valley Fest I met my ex-husband, he's one of the best. At Quincy in 2000 he proposed to me I said yes and we spent 11 years together, very happily." - Gina

"I was having a bit of a down day at HSMF. My girlfriend was breaking up with me in real time over the course of the fest. Then, during the Bela Fleck and the Flecktones set, Victor Wooten threw a stuffed hippo into the crowd – right into my hands. [My girlfriend] is gone, although we are friendly from afar. But I still have that stuffed hippo 18 years later." - Dave

"Working with Grizzly Radio being an interviewer has been a highlight making experience for me. Interviewing Steve Poltz is probably one of the more wondrous experiences I’ve had in the world of conversation." - Doug Greenfield (Grizzly Radio announcer for over ten years)

"Back in 2000, my partner and I set up our tent, but left everything else outside at the campsite because music was starting at the Shady Grove stage. Halfway through the set, it started pouring rain. We ran back to our camp to put things away and found that our camp neighbors, who we didn't know, had put all our stuff in our tent – so nothing got wet or destroyed." - Tom

"It’s shaped me as a person. I feel like I’ve marked my life with High Sierras... A big part of my life, my growth in friendships, as a person, is marked by High Sierras." - Ezra Lipp (performer, ALO)

"I've got a lifetime of stories to tell." - Beth

MUSICAL INTERLUDE #2: BEST COVER SONGS

Everyone will have their own list. The Playshops are chock full of covers, so I left out most of those and chose the ones that performers threw into their own stage sets. I mentioned the Paul Hoffman cover of the Jim Morrison poem "Ghost Song" above, and these are some others that stood out:

    "Fireworks" (Katy Perry) by Melt (on the 4th of July)
    "In Bloom" (Nirvana) by Anna Moss & The Nightshades
    "Cassidy" > "That's It for The Other One, Pt. 1" > "Cassidy" (Grateful Dead) by Greensky Bluegrass with Holly Bowling
    "The Star-Spangled Banner" (sorta the Prince version) – guitar solo by Jackie Venson
    "So Far Away" (Dire Straits) closed the "Mississippi to Mali" Playshop
    "Give Up the Funk" (Parliament) by Cimafunk

Okay, and now one last round of quotes from people who love HSMF.

FAMILY, LOVE, AND HAPPINESS

"There is no shortage of joy here." - Alisan

"I have raised my daughter on this festival, and it holds a dear place in my heart." - Corinne

"HSMF is a wonderful bonding experience for families. Not only is it great to spend time with your kids, but an added benefit is that my kids ended up being friends with adults and kids younger than them as well as meeting friends they have had for life." - Fran

"After Jerry died and the Grateful Dead stopped touring, I missed my happy place to dance the the dance of life with all the amazing people that were part of that scene. I found my groove at High Sierra Music Festival! Every year I laugh, I cry, I dance, I sweat. Every year is different yet each time I return to myself in a new form. HSMF LIFER!" - Janna

"I met my wife at sunrise kickball!" - Mike (Jenni's husband)

"In 2017, met at kickball on an inflatable couch at second base. Engaged HSMF 2019 at Indian Falls. HSMF 2022 for our honeymoon. High Sierra brings together some of our favorite people and fills our cup every year." - Jenni (Mike's wife)

"It's my church, it's where I get to unite with others in joy. I love being deep in the crowds and looking at all the smiling faces. And especially the new musicians who see how easy the crowds are to impact with joy just by their actions and talents." - Danielle

"HSMF 2024 was a love fest. It began with the integrity of the producers and their intentions, special gratitude to Roy Carter for his vision. (We missed you, Roy.) It’s in the graciousness of the organizers, in the multitudes of beautiful communities like Grizzly Radio, in the hospitality at the Troubadour stage, in the warmth, hard work, great food and music at Camp Bitchin’ Kitchen and Camp Happiness, and in all the free offerings for well-being, like Yoga, the Family Zone, and Embodied Groove. The unbelievable four days of music is love and healing that flows into all of us, working its magic." - Maggie

"High Sierra is about diverse music and art and really dedicated people that love to hear music. We need this! So High Sierra – right on that it keeps marching on!" - Scott Amendola (performer)

"People bring their best and are at their best at High Sierra. And it brings out the best in people." - David Margulies (HSMF co-producer)

"Better than the music, the atmosphere, and the community is the joy that is created at this festival. I am so proud of the legacy of High Sierra Music Festival, and what it has meant to so many people for so many years." - Rebecca Sparks (HSMF co-producer)

CODA 2024

I wasn't at the main Grandstand Stage at the end of Sunday night's performance by Ziggy Marley, so I can't testify one way or the other about whether stage emcee Tim Lynch did not say "See you next year!" like he does every year. I know Tim, haven't had a chance to ask him about this yet – but I suspect, like many of us, he just doesn't know what the future holds for HSMF.

For now, we can only take home our memories, live in our moments, and hope for a bright future. Like Beth said above, I've got a lifetime of stories to tell. And that will never go away.

Portland indie darlings The Decemberists brought their road show to Oakland’s Fox Theater on Saturday night. The Decemberists are touring in support of their latest release, "As It Ever Was, So It Will Be Again."

Fans who have been on board with the alt-nerdy, uber-literary, and sea-shanty’ish Decemberists since their debut in the early aughts will be glad to know singer Colin Meloy and his crew still write songs that are as clever, erudite, and hummable as ever. What’s not to love about a chorus (for the new song “Long White Veil”) that starts with “I married her, I carried her, on the very same day I buried her” and ends with “…but she looked so pale in that long white veil”?

Like the new album, the current tour may not capture any new fans, but it delighted a sold-out crowd of diehards at the Fox. Along with Meloy (lead vocals, guitar), shipmates – I mean bandmates – Chris Funk (guitar, multi-instrumentalist), Jenny Conlee (piano, keyboards, accordion, backing vocals), Nate Query (bass), and John Moen (drums) played tightly and sprightly for over two hours. Multi-instrumentalists Lizzy Ellison and Victor Nash rounded out the richly layered sound. Nash’s trumpet was a particularly notable addition on many songs.

The crowds at Decemberists’ shows are a reliable and fun mix of people who (presumably) include well-versed Jane Austen fans, “Big Bang Theory” acolytes, post-new wavers, and the occasional furry (two were spotted on the floor on Saturday). The fans respond with literati glee when Meloy says things like he did for his introduction to “The Reapers”: “This is another new one. It’s about death and agriculture.”

The show began with a trio of acoustic songs, including a lovely rendition of “All I Want is You” from the new record. The lighting for this mini-set was low, moody, and theatrical, mostly provided by some incandescent lightbulbs framing the players on wheeled-out carts adorned with vines. A floral, old-timey backdrop with distant mountains painted in the distance completed the ambiance.

The lights came up a bit for “Don’t Carry It All” from 2011’s "The King is Dead." For the remainder of the two-hour’ish set, The Decemberists played a variety of songs from their two-decade-plus discography, including Meloy’s all-too-true “I Was Meant for the Stage” from their sophomore album. And yes, they played the delightfully trite “Long White Veil.”

“Thank you, San Francisco, I mean Oakland,” Meloy said at one point. “I always like to be totally geographically correct wherever I am.”

For an encore, the audience was treated to “Joan in the Garden,” which at nearly twenty minutes on the new album is by far the longest cut the band has ever released. Like so many Decemberists songs, it’s a tragedy tinged with history and melancholy, and laced with a plethora of five-dollar words (Imperium; parquet; androgyne.) It’s also a masterpiece of dramatic music. The lights mimicked lightening in the thunderous hard rock segments of this opus. Truly a theatrical coda fitting for a Decemberists show.

Opening act Ratboys delivered a strong set of alt rock. Hailing from Chicago, Julia Steiner (guitar, vocals), Dave Sagan (guitar), Marcus Nuccio (drums), and Sean Neumann (bass, vocals) showed their indie chops with songs reminiscent of Big Thief and Waxahatchee. Steiner’s voice is nearly a dead ringer for the latter’s Kathryn Crutchfield.

Steiner introduced “Elvis is in the Freezer” with a cute story (okay, “cute” is subjective here) about the time her family cat died while she was away: “My mom put the cat in the freezer until I got home. If you’ve ever put a pet in the freezer, you’re not alone.” Endearing!

The North Mississippi Allstars may not have been bona fide all-stars when they formed as a trio nearly thirty years ago, but the Brothers Dickinson have certainly attained that status by now. They proved their worthiness with a set that went way beyond their expected two-hour timeframe on Thursday at HopMonk Tavern in Novato.

The North Mississippi Allstars' current lineup features Luther Dickinson on guitar and vocals (and occasional bass), Cody Dickinson on drums (and occasional guitar and vocals), and Rayfield "Ray Ray" Holloman on bass (and occasional drums and vocals).

The trio opened with “Goin’ Down South” from their 2000 release Shake Hands with Shorty, and they just kept goin’ and goin’ from there. The Dickinson Brothers are well-versed in Delta blues, and their jams combine the Southern rock ethos of The Allman Brothers (another sibling ensemble, of course) with the sensibility of the roots musicians who preceded the whole lot of them. (A nod to the Allmans came through during a “Mountain Jam” segment during one of the instrumental jams.)

The NOMAs provide an earthbound experience, and I mean that in the best way. You can feel the land beneath these blues. You can smell the bayou from the front porch, and you can feel the swing of your own rocking chair in the southern twilight. You can taste the pork, the beans, the sweat.

Even when Luther takes little leaps into the air, and even when his slide flies up and down the frets, there’s a sense of gravity that reminds you — these are blues. The music of the land. The music of the people.

Luther made note of this during one of his asides to the sold-out crowd: “When you feel the vibrations, it’s not the music or the place. It’s the people in the place that create the good vibes.”

The good vibes were plentiful.

The show began with a 45-minute set by The Sam Chase. To be clear, The Sam Chase is … one guy named Sam Chase, singer-songwriter. He appeared at HopMonk without his usual band, The Untraditional. If you want to understand The Sam Chase (and perhaps gain some insight into why he puts “The” in front of his name), check out what his website bio says about him (and note that the website says this is allegedly and unbelievably written by “Hunter S. Thompson”):

Sam Chase is a complete phony … A fraud in the highest order … The fact that good people, honest, hardworking, god-fearing, red-blooded Americans could be duped by such a blatantly unoriginal and inauthentic “songwriter” is one of the great mysteries that will perhaps someday be solved by some other songwriter who is actually worth a damn.

The truth is that his songs are funny, insightful, original, and enjoyable. His voice, a bit Tom Waits’ish with similar gravelly intonation, is interesting and dynamic. And he engages the audience with banter and bravado. For instance, he sang a new song (lyrics about a recent assassination attempt you may have heard about made that clear) called “Donald J Trump’s Still the Biggest Asshole in The World.” About two-thirds of the audience cheered and sang along, some preferred to pretend not to notice, and at least a few were visibly perturbed and aghast that he’d vilify their GOP hero with such mockery. Good folk music is meant to challenge people, and The Sam Chase does exactly that.

On August 13, 1975, The Grateful Dead played a show at the ridiculously small and distinctively decorous Great American Music Hall (GAMH) in San Francisco. This was one of only four concerts the band played that year, all of them in San Francisco. The setlist was mostly comprised of songs from the album Blues for Allah, which had not yet been released. Many Deadheads revere the GAMH performance as an all-time favorite.

It's been 49 years since that famous show. In celebration, the Grateful Guitars Foundation hosted a benefit concert at the GAMH on August 13 this year, with a stellar lineup featuring luminaries from Dead-adjacent bands in the Bay Area and beyond. Melvin Seals (Jerry Garcia Band) and John Kadlecik (Dark Star Orchestra, Furthur) ostensibly anchored the lineup on the poster, and they were accompanied by members of Los Lobos, Moonalice, ALO, and others. (The full lineup is listed below.)

For bonus points, Grateful Dead roadie and confidante Steve Parish played the role of emcee, regaling the audience with some fond and funny remembrances of Jerry Garcia’s experiences playing at – and being kicked out of – the venerable music hall.

Grateful Guitars is a 501(c)(3) nonprofit that obtains world-class musical instruments for talented players who seek to carry on the tradition of jam band music into the 21st century and beyond. In other words, they provide an opportunity for wicked musicians in kick-ass jam bands to play some fabulous vintage and bespoke guitars. Pickers including Stu Allen (Mars Hotel), Rick Mitarotonda (Goose), and Garrett Deloian (Jerry's Middle Finger) are among those who have been selected to play iconic axes.

Among the benefactors is founder and board president Andy Logan, who has a collection of several Jerry Garcia and Bob Weir guitars, and other six-stringed beauties from the psychedelic and rock pantheon. Perhaps the most famous of his collection (I admit, that’s an uber-debatable claim) is Garcia's "Alligator," which Logan has frequently made available to many performers over the past several years. Indeed, Alligator gets around! Last year, I saw both David Hidalgo of Los Lobos and Susan Tedeschi of Tedeschi Trucks Band play Alligator at the same show in Berkeley. (Side note: Alligator, a 1955 Fender Strat, was a gift from Graham Nash to Garcia; Nash bought it in a pawn shop in Arizona – no doubt for considerably less than what Logan paid for it at auction a few years ago!)

Grateful Guitars also funds instrument purchases for budding talents. Tuesday night’s benefit included a moment to present San Francisco’s venerable Blue Bear School of Music with a check for $5,000 to assist with purchases for students. The lineup also gave a nod to the next generation by inviting 17-year-old NorCal guitar whiz Bella Rayne to join the cavalcade of superstars for the evening’s performance.

We'll get back to the show in a moment, but first I encourage y'all to check out https://gratefulguitars.org/. Donations help fund the program and support music instruction in schools to seed the next generations of talented players in the Bay Area and beyond. There’s also a small gift shop on the site.

At the GAMH on Tuesday night, Grateful Guitars continued their legacy of handing out magnificent instruments to magnificent musicians. John Kadlecik was the honored beneficiary for the night. After introducing several members of the Grateful Guitars board of directors, Andy Logan called Kadlecik up to the stage and handed him a beautifully crafted Alembic guitar. Aficionados will note that both Jerry Garcia and Phil Lesh are among the many electric string players who have performed with Alembic instruments, including Garcia’s first Doug Irwin guitar, Wolf.

Of course, the highlight and main event was the music. For two long electric sets, a rotating cast of musicians paid homage to the songs – and instruments – of the Grateful Dead. Ezra Lipp (ALO) was the MVP, staying on the skins all night long. The rest of the players took turns on stage, frequently coming and going in various combinations. The multi-talented Alex Jordan (who has played alongside Bob Weir, Phil Lesh, and Peter Rowan, among many others) served dutifully and admirably as musical director. He also took turns on bass and keys.

Naturally, Alligator made an appearance. David Hidalgo (Los Lobos), no stranger to playing the legendary axe, rocked the house on Alligator with his solos on “Bertha” and “Evangeline,” staples of the Los Lobos live show repertoire.

Among other highlights were a smoking “Ship of Fools” sung by Elliott Peck (Midnight North, Phil & Friends), and a mega-jam version of “Eyes of the World” complete with the 1975 GAMH coda and a “Stairway to Heaven” tease. The latter featured Lebo (ALO) and Nate LaPointe (Cubensis) on dueling guitars, and Jackie Greene taking a turn on the organ.

Shortly before the night ended with a “U.S. Blues” encore, Hidalgo closed the second set with a segue from “Good Lovin’” into the Los Lobos cover hit “La Bamba.” Unlike the crowd at any Los Lobos show, the majority of Deadheads present were hard-pressed to comply with Hidalgo’s request to sing along with the Spanish lyrics. But the kids, they danced, they shook their bones. Hidalgo just laughed it off.

Earlier, the house was treated to a too-short acoustic set by Jackie Greene and Sam Grisman. Grisman is certainly no stranger to the Grateful Dead songbook – on the website for his band, Sam Grisman Project, he posted this note:

The music that my father David Grisman and his close friend, Jerry Garcia, made in the early 90s (in the house that I grew up in) is not only some of the most timeless acoustic music ever recorded, it also triggers my oldest and fondest musical memories.

The same can be said (except for the “in the house that I grew up in” part, I suppose) by many members of the audience, ranging from the guy who told me he was at the 1975 GAMH Dead show to the born-after-Jerry-died twirlers on the back of the floor. The magic continues today, not only in the hands of musicians like Grisman, Greene, Kadlecik, and Hidalgo, but also in the fine grains and polished strings of the instruments themselves.

It’s fitting, then, to close with the words of Andy Logan on stage Tuesday night. After thanking the musicians, stagehands, sound and lighting crews, and especially the luthiers, Logan spoke to the heart of the matter:

When you see these instruments, you know they’re not just going to bring joy to us here today, but for generations to come.

MUSICIAN LINEUP

    Alex Jordan (Bob Weir, Phil & Friends) – bass, keyboards, vocals
    Barry Sless (Moonalice, Wolf Brothers) – guitar
    Bella Rayne (rising star!) – guitar
    Dan "Lebo" Lebowitz (ALO) – guitar, vocals
    David Hidalgo (Los Lobos) – guitar, vocals
    Elliott Peck (Midnight North, Phil & Friends) – guitar, vocals
    Ezra Lipp (ALO) – drums
    Jackie Greene (solo artist, Black Crowes) – guitar, vocals
    Jill Simmons (theCAUSE, Brown Eyed Women) – vocals
    John Kadlecik (Dark Star Orchestra, Furthur) – guitar, vocals
    Melvin Seals (Jerry Garcia Band) – organ, vocals
    Nate LaPointe (Cubensis) – guitar, vocals
    Pete Sears (Moonalice, Rod Stewart, Jefferson Starship) – bass
    Sam Grisman (Sam Grisman Project) – bass, vocals
    Steve Adams (ALO) – bass, vocals
    Steve Berlin (Los Lobos) – saxophone, keyboards

(Note: Roger McNamee of Moonalice was also on the bill but was unable to attend.)
Many of these folks have played with WAY too many bands to list here, obviously!

SET LISTS
Greene and Grisman (Acoustic)

    Big Boss Man
    Friend of the Devil
    Loser
    So Many Roads

Electric Set 1

    Might as Well
    Hell in a Bucket
    Rubin and Cherise
    Jackstraw
    Ship of Fools
    Bertha
    Evangeline
    They Love Each Other
    Tore Up Over You

Electric Set 2

    Deal
    Sugaree
    Cats Down Under the Stars
    Lucky Old Sun
    Eyes of the World
    Greatest Story Ever Told
    The Wheel >
    Good Lovin’ >
    La Bamba

Encore

    U.S. Blues

"It’s strange for me sometimes because I was born in 1992... but I really like the old music." That’s a quote from Billy Strings at his Greek Theatre performance Saturday night. And that’s Billy Strings through and through. But he must also like the “new music” – or perhaps we could call it the “slightly less-old” music of the psychedelic jam world. His set at Berkeley’s Greek Theatre on Saturday night (the first of two shows in the Bay Area) was infused with Strings’ blend of both “old” and “new” music, an amalgam of classic bluegrass and spacey jam-tasticness.

The crowd was a mix of “old” and “new” as well. Old-school Deadheads – you know, the ones who actually saw Jerry, and maybe even Pigpen – swirled with 20-somethings who sway and swing like they’ve been doing that rag their entire lives. (Hint: many of them learned it from their 'rents.) It might be odd at times for Billy to look out at his audience and see so many sexagenarians and septuagenarians, but there’s no shortage of young’uns either.

As one of my friends said, “This band has the Deadiest scene around—maybe even more Dead-y than the Dead these days.” And that sentiment goes for a wide swath of the all-ages audience at the Greek.

The show began a half-hour past the ticketed start time. During the wait, an enthusiastic announcer chimed in every five minutes to let the crowd know it was “Fifteen [then ten, then five] minutes to rainbows!” Finally, during an epic Bay Area sunset visible to the audience on the Greek’s lawn, Billy and Co. kicked off the festivities with "Wild Bill Jones," a song originally performed by bluegrass forefathers The Stanley Brothers.

For nearly three hours, Strings and his mates kicked ass, took names, and covered a wide waterfront of traditional and newgrass country. There was no shortage of “ooh” and “ahh” moments from each of the band members. Strings’ name is on the marquee, and he sings all the songs on most nights, but it’s no secret that all four of his associates are themselves masters of their stringed domains. Pick any one of them—Billy Failing (banjo), Royal Masat (bass), Jarrod Walker (mandolin), or Alex Hargreaves (fiddle)—and you could build a world-class bluegrass band around their picking.

By the end of "Secrets," the second song of the evening, anyone who wasn’t already in awe of the assembly of musicians before them was experiencing a revelation.

Still, it wasn’t until a few songs later that the band began kicking up dust in full-jam gear. The ensemble is well-equipped to segue from traditional porch music into extended segments, often built around one-chord themes that allow Billy and Co. to stretch the definition of “bluegrass” before launching back into the coda of the last song or starting a new one. The transition from "Be Your Man" to "Running," for instance, was a tour de force of increasingly breathless, furious energy.

Breathlessness is indeed a key factor in Strings’ live performances. He will take your breath away. The entire band plays with such endless liveliness that it fills every space of your brain. It reminds me of the time I saw comedian John Oliver, whose jokes came so fast that I barely had time to bust a gut laughing before the next punchline hit. I had no mental airspace to process any of his jokes, to file them away in the "Remember this one, it's a hoot!" part of my brain. At the end of the night, I couldn’t remember a single joke, but I knew I’d had a rip-roarin’ time. It’s like that with Billy Strings’ shows. (I’m also reminded of a bemused criticism of Mozart’s music in the film Amadeus: “Too many notes!” Somehow, Mozart survived that gibe to achieve a legacy worthy of GOAT consideration—just as Billy Strings likely will.)

Strings kicked off the second set with a solo turn on banjo for "Ol' Rickard" and the oft-covered traditional "Reuben's Train." Though many may associate this tune with the bluegrass genre, it is much older, predating the popularization of bluegrass. Earl Scruggs, a pioneer of the three-finger banjo style, played "Reuben" as a kid in the 1930s, helping to integrate it into the bluegrass lexicon. While Doc Watson recorded it with Flatt & Scruggs in 1967, he never considered himself a bluegrass musician. "Reuben’s Train" has long been played both within and outside the bluegrass world, a testament to its enduring appeal.

Next, with the rest of the band back on stage, Strings said, “I’ll do this number here just in case there’s anybody getting hungry.” They launched into Doc Watson’s playful tune "The Muskrat Song."

Later in the second set, "Seven Weeks in County," a new Strings song, proved a crowd-pleaser with a long stretch of instrumental highway that gave ample room for each of the four soloists to stretch out, anchored of course by Masat’s steady bass thumping. A red balloon, possibly filled with nitrous oxide from one of the outside vendors, landed on the stage just at the crescendo of Hargreaves’ fiddle solo. The Californians roared again.

("Seven Weeks in County" will appear on Strings’ upcoming album Highway Prayers, to be released on September 27 by Reprise Records. Attendees at the Greek on the following day were treated to another new one, "Leadfoot," a fun, pile-driving romp.)

For the Deadhead faithful, Strings threw in a cover of "I've Been All Around This World." There were also snatches of classic rock riffs in Strings’ solos throughout the evening, including a snippet of "Oye Como Va" and a tease of "Also sprach Zarathustra." Again, the “old” mixed in with the “new.”

Billy and Co. use minimal effects for many of their traditional-style songs, but they each have an array of pedals to amp things up, which they do frequently. Strings’ guitar in particular often hums with distortion and envelope filters. At times, he goes into the stratosphere with riffs and timbre more akin to Steve Howe of Yes than to Doc Watson’s or Tony Rice’s flatpicking. When Strings goes into his double- and quadruple-time riffs with the full array of electronic effects, the crowd goes nuts.

The light show for this summer’s outings is brilliant, both literally and metaphorically. Strings has toned down the number of lights blaring at the audience since his last tour (it was quite blinding at times). Five circular rigs hung above the stage, one hovering over each band member like flying rainbow saucers. A video screen behind the stage made sparing use of live images, only occasionally showing Strings and his mates. A few cartoonish animations augmented rather than distracted from the music and the mood.

Those in the pit couldn’t see this from their vantage point, but each of the musicians stood on a black, circular pad mirroring the flying saucer rigs above their heads. The effect was reminiscent of Star Trek transporter pads; it might not have surprised some crowd members if anyone in the band began to levitate or turned out to be a hologram.

The players stood on their pads all night, except for occasional forays by Strings to the front or sides of the stage. (He seemed more animated on Sunday night, venturing out more frequently.)

Some folks at the show might miss the intimacy of bluegrass bands who hover around one mic. It would be a treat to see these guys do an all-acoustic, no-effects show sometime.

Sound-wise, the Greek Theatre was not put to its best amphitheatrical use. The GA orchestra pit was a bit bass-heavy. Up in the stone seats (with assigned seating) and on the GA lawn, however, the audio was clear and crisp.

To close the show, Strings spoke about liking old music and old musicians, name-checking David Grisman and Del McCoury in particular, and then paid tribute to a fallen hero. “We lost a great fiddler yesterday, Bobby Hicks.” In Hicks’ honor, Hargreaves took the lead on the maestro’s "Maiden's Prayer." This was followed by a Lester Flatt & Earl Scruggs song, "Your Love Is Like a Flower." Finally, Strings gave the audience a final hoot-n’-holler opportunity with one of his own tunes, the crowd favorite "Dust in a Baggie."

As the Greek Theatre curfew loomed, Billy and Co. returned for an a cappella turn at "Richard Petty." The audience took their time to breathe as the harmonies rang out into the Berkeley hills. After a great evening of the “old” and the “new,” both the youngsters and old-timers in the audience gave enthusiastic applause to the quintet, and many vowed to come back for more on Sunday.

The Lagunitas Brewing Company hosted the Robert Randolph Band for an evening of sacred steel Tuesday evening. The spirit was mighty, and the heavens smiled—along with a reverent audience.

Randolph grew up in a world dominated by religion. His father was a deacon, and his mother a minister in a Pentecostal church in Irving, New Jersey. The church was too poor to afford an organ but adapted to that unfortunate circumstance by incorporating the steel guitar (a relatively affordable instrument compared to an organ) as the musical foundation for their services starting in the 1930s.

Young Robert began playing the steel guitar when he was 16, working hard to mimic the sacred sound of a church organ. In a 2017 interview, Randolph said, "I grew up and saw a lot of older guys playing lap steels and pedal-steel guitars in my church. I had never heard the Allman Brothers, or even Buddy Guy, or Muddy Waters." But somebody along the way turned him on to a recording of Stevie Ray Vaughan, and he added the Texas bluesman’s swing to his burgeoning repertoire of soulful and inspiring steel string pyrotechnics.

In 2000, Randolph stretched beyond the confines of his hometown church and formed The Family Band with cousins Danyel Morgan and Marcus Randolph on bass and drums, and John Ginty (who had played alongside Neal Casal, Whiskeytown, and Jewel) on organ. The quartet played some shows at other regional churches and quickly attracted notice in the tri-state area and beyond when they branched out to “secular” venues.

Before the band even released their first album, jazz organist John Medeski (Medeski, Martin and Wood) experienced the magic of Randolph’s steel guitar. He invited the virtuoso to join The Word, a new sacred steel-ish jam project with brothers Cody and Luther Dickinson, the drums and guitar duo who comprise the core of the North Mississippi Allstars (NOMAs). The Family Band was invited to join NOMAs on tour as an opening act, and The Word closed the show each night.

And praise be, the people began to take notice of Robert Randolph.

Randolph’s steel guitar picking combines the high-intensity fever pitch of raucous gospel music with flashy picking that invokes the spirit of Johnny Winter, Albert Collins, and Jimi Hendrix. He’s fun to listen to and also fun to watch. Randolph is seldom at rest, either swinging his head back like Ray Charles or raising his arms to the sky like a preacher.

It’s been over twenty years now since Randolph took his pulpit to a national stage and began to preach his own unique blend of gospel, love, and the blues to the masses. His recordings have won several Grammys, and Randolph has played and recorded with luminaries from Eric Clapton to LeAnn Rimes to Metallica. The Lagunitas BrewCo crowd was in for a treat.

Instead of the Family Band, the show at Lagunitas BrewCo featured a quartet, with Randolph on steel guitar, two non-Family members on bass and drums, and Tash Neal on guitar and vocals (The London Souls).

The band started in high gear with a vigorous version of Skip James’ “I’m So Glad” (most famously covered by Cream), a well-picked opener for Randolph’s positive vibe. For the next ninety minutes, Randolph and Co. kept the energy high. Neal took several solo turns shredding leads. Randolph mostly stayed on his 12-string pedal steel, but he occasionally stood up to strap on a six-string slide guitar.

In the middle of the set, Randolph invited audience members up to shake their money-makers on stage. He grinned ear to ear while a half dozen or so ladies danced around him. The religion was infectious.

I once heard Al Green—who was ordained as a pastor years after he recorded a string of world-famous love songs—say on stage that all of his oldies were sung in the spirit of Jesus now that he was a servant of God. With Robert Randolph, it’s sort of the opposite: when he sings “Baptize Me,” a song that is as gospel as it gets, the audience feels the love and grooves to the soul. You don’t have to join a church to appreciate the sacred steel sounds emanating from Randolph’s instrument. You just need to show up and be prepared to boogie.

Quinn DeVeaux opened with a set of his self-styled “blue beat soul.” The Gary, Indiana native played a tight, fun set of lively blues backed by a four-piece ensemble. His website aptly describes DeVeaux’s performance as a “rollicking itinerant house party.”

Growing up, the Wooten Brothers were military brats. Their family moved frequently, and the five boys grew up in Hawaii, California, and Virginia. Despite the constancy of motion, the family was anchored in music. Regi, the eldest, began teaching his younger brothers how to play bass and keyboards before any of them turned ten years old. The Wooten Brothers Band was playing gigs when the youngest, Victor, was only six.

Over fifty years later, the Wooten Brothers are still gigging!

It’s been several years since the brothers have toured together, following the untimely death of sax player Rudy in 2010. But like many other brotherly acts, the siblings just can’t quit each other. Perhaps the brothers Gallagher made bigger headlines this year announcing an Oasis reunion tour, but longtime fans of the Wootens were no doubt more excited to see the reunification of Victor, Roy, and Regi.

The bill advertised “Victor Wooten and The Wooten Brothers” for the four-night run this week at Yoshi’s in Oakland. Bassist Victor earned his top billing both by playing the role of erstwhile bandleader and by selling the most records and earning the most accolades over the decades. Much of his fame, along with his percussionist/drummer brother Roy “Futureman,” comes from their long stint as founding members of Béla Fleck and the Flecktones. Victor’s storied career also includes three selections as Bass Player magazine’s “Bass Player of the Year” – he was the first person ever to win it twice, let alone thrice!

Yoshi’s, a swanky jazz supper club noted both for its Blue Note atmosphere and its tasty Japanese cuisine, was the perfect setting for the first Bay Area performance by the bros in over a decade. Wooten waxed nostalgic for days gone by in Oakland, opening for bands like War and Curtis Mayfield in the '70s. “It’s where we really started getting it together as a five-piece band.”

Now it’s a four-piece band. The three touring brothers were accompanied at Yoshi’s by keyboardist Karlton Taylor (Stanley Clarke, Marcus Miller, Tommy Emmanuel). There was no mention of brother Joseph, who tours regularly with the Steve Miller Band and had other obligations.

Rudy, however, was fondly remembered. Victor told a story about being contacted recently via social media by a guy who had knocked on his parents’ door in Virginia in the 1970s and said to Mrs. Wooten, “I’ve been sent to your house by a man named Don Kirshner.” (Google “Don Kirshner’s Rock Concert,” young'uns.) Fast forward to the more recent connection, and this guy tells Victor he still has a cassette tape of a demo by the five teenage boys. That inspired the brothers to root through old reel-to-reel tracks, and they found some recordings of Rudy’s sax that they now plan to incorporate into brand-new recordings. So the quintet will live on!

Okay, back to Yoshi’s. Victor did most of the talking between songs. “It’s a nice room; we can get away with things that we can’t do in other rooms.” With that mindset, the 75-minute show was packed with funk, jazz, fusion, rock – and lots of solos. “I hope it’s all right to get a little funky here. I know it’s a jazz club.”

Most of the jams were instrumental, but there was some singing too. Notable selections included a Flecktones song, “Let Me Be the One,” with “Futureman” stepping out from behind his drum kit to slap beats on his trademark “Drumitar.” “Sweat,” a 2023 single released by the Wooten Brothers, delivered on the promise to get funky.

At one point, Victor took a turn on stage by himself for a lengthy bass solo with loops, distortion, finger popping, finger tapping, and all sorts of other techniques that underscored why other bass players revere him. Later, Regi, also a master at finger tapping, got to fly solo for a turn.

Each of the musicians had a number of turns to stretch out, with the others backing them on the opening night of the residency. Toward the end of the set, though, realizing Taylor had only been given two spotlights, Victor promised the audience would hear more from his “brother from another” on the following nights.

When people who have literally known each other their entire lives and have played music with each other their entire lives get together to play some more music, the spirit is often saturated with experience, synchronicity, and love. The Wooten Brothers embody that spirit.

Reggae legends Black Uhuru dropped some serious roots reggae beats at the Sweetwater Music Hall in Mill Valley, CA, on Friday night.

First, a bit of personal history: I got turned on to Black Uhuru by my college roomie, Robert, at U.C. Santa Cruz in the early Eighties. He had copies of the band’s seminal albums Sinsemilla and Red, and we smoked a lot of pot while grooving to tracks like “Puff She Puff” and “World is Africa.”

I saw Black Uhuru live for the first time when they played a gig in Santa Cruz in 1984 on a double bill with King Sunny Adé. Man, what a show! Drum and bass session maestros Sly Dunbar and Robbie Shakespeare were still recording and touring with the band, and the “classic” singer lineup of vocalists Derrick "Duckie" Simpson, Michael Rose, and Sandra "Puma" Jones were captivating and hypnotic performers. King Sunny Adé’s set was mighty high too. That show remains on my all-time list of best double bills.

Fast forward just a few years: by 1986, Rose had left the band, and Sly and Robbie had moved on to other projects. I saw Black Uhuru for the second time on the “Sunsplash USA” tour with a bunch of other reggae acts, this time at the Circle Star Theater in San Carlos. The Circle Star was a sorta swanky place in days gone by, a regular tour stop for lounge acts like Frank Sinatra and Don Rickles. The main attraction of the Circle Star was that the performers played on a rotating stage in the center of the auditorium. By 1986, the paint was peeling, and the carpets and seats were musty. Black Uhuru too was at a point somewhat less magnificent than its golden era just a few years earlier. But they were still fun.

Fast forward one more time. It’s been 38 years since I’ve seen Black Uhuru. Of the core group I saw in 1984, only Simpson remains. Jones died in 1990. Rose came back only briefly in the early 2000s. Sly and Robbie haven’t been involved with Black Uhuru for decades, and Shakespeare died in 2021.

It was long overdue for me to check them out again.

A sold-out crowd at the Sweetwater swayed to beats by DJ Sep while waiting for the headliners. Before Black Uhuru came on stage, the audience seemed to be a mix of old-school reggae fans who knew every word to “Guess Who's Coming to Dinner” and the usual Mill Valley “Hey, who’s playing at the Sweetwater tonight, let’s meet up!” regulars. But make no mistake, everyone was a big Black Uhuru fan by the end of the night.

Black Uhuru’s songs (many of the early hits were written by Rose) are timeless and eternally poignant. But the magic in their performance decades later is a testament to Simpson, who has kept the vibe alive despite numerous personnel changes over the years. In the late Nineties, he created a new Black Uhuru lineup featuring Andrew Bees as a frontman on lead vocals. Bees has been on board since that time.

At the Sweetwater, Bees was energetic, and his voice was strong. If you closed your eyes, you might think it was Michael Rose singing the leads on songs from Black Uhuru’s early Eighties recordings, like the show opener “I Love King Selassie.” And yet, he “owns” the classic songs every bit as much as he does the newer cuts recorded during his tenure. His delivery is authentic at every moment.

True to form and genre, Bees often punctuated his performance by shouting “roots!” and “Rastafari!” He engaged the audience with call-and-response singalongs. He roamed the stage, bouncing and swaying his arms. But most of all, he sang his heart out. Versions of “General Penitentiary” and “World is Africa” were particularly lively, spiritual, and enthralling.

Some of the band members (on bass and drums in particular) might not even have been born yet when Black Uhuru recorded their biggest hits, and certainly not back in 1972 when Simpson and some mates formed the first version of the band (then just called “Uhuru”) in the Waterhouse district of Kingston, Jamaica. Even so, they delivered the goods. The bass drove the beat, the drums were tight, and there were numerous guitar and keyboard solos all night long.

It's fair to say that Black Uhuru puts the “jam” in “Jamaica.”

About midway through the two-hour set, Bees took a breather, and Simpson (who had been singing backing vocals toward the back of the stage) took the lead on vocals. While his voice was never as strong as Rose’s or Bees’s, his charisma more than made up for it. Oddly, he stayed toward the back of the stage even while singing leads. It was only after four or five songs that he ventured toward the front.

Dylan Seid, the singer and founder of NorCal reggae jamband Dylan's Dharma, came on stage to sing two songs he recorded with Black Uhuru on their most recent album, 2022’s New Day, including “Jamaica to Here.”

Then Bees returned for the last few songs and the three-song encore. If “Guess Who's Coming to Dinner” and “Solidarity” weren’t enough for the enthralled audience, “Sinsemilla” took the cake. A few joints started circulating in the audience to give life to the lyrics: “Pass it, pass it, all over I and I.”

At the end of the night, I wondered why I’d waited 38 years to see Black Uhuru again!

This year's Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival (“HSBG”) in San Francisco's Golden Gate Park was—as usual, and as expected—a joyous and magical celebration for young and old, family and friends, musicians and music fans.

Despite the unseasonably warm October weather, tens of thousands of music fans from San Francisco, the surrounding Bay Area, and far beyond made the trek to the park for this year’s free festival. The relentless sun was challenging for some people, but the music was even hotter. Attendees huddled in the shady spots beneath trees between acts to keep cool, but they filled in the space in front of each stage during the performances. Frequent reminders from stage announcers to hydrate, apply sunscreen, and take care of each other helped too.

The heat may have kept many people from coming to HSBG this year, perhaps opting instead to head for beaches or stay home to watch the HSBG livestream from the comfort of their air-conditioned living rooms. Certainly, the event has seen larger crowds—but nobody was complaining this year that the Port-o-Potty lines weren’t long enough.

As usual for multi-stage festivals, it’s impossible to catch every act. Some concertgoers said they were conserving energy in the heat, traveling less between stages and hunkering down in one spot. Others said they were just getting too old to rush around and compete with friends to tally who could see the most acts. And let’s face it, traversing a half-mile across the park at the end of Sunday to see Emmylou Harris has a high cost if your car is parked all the way out at 37th Avenue. But no matter where you are at HSBG, you’ve got good music to fill your ears and good friends nearby to share the good times.

For me, my wife, and a wide circle of friends, the weekend of HSBG is celebrated as an annual holiday. Like kids before Christmas, our anticipation grows throughout the summer as we hear the first lineup teases. (HSBG announces ten new acts every two weeks during mid-summer via a “guess who?” medley of song snippets posted on their website before unveiling the entire roster of acts.) We share group texts and Facebook threads to discuss which acts we will see and coordinate which stages we will prioritize to throw down our tarps and blankets.

HSBG by the Numbers – Interlude #1:

• First year of the festival: 2001.
• Number of HSBG Festivals to date (including 2024): 22.
• Number of years without an HSBG since inception: 2 (due to COVID).
• Number of times Emmylou Harris has closed the festival on the main stage: 22.

I have only missed two of the 63 days of HSBG since 2001, one due to debilitating back pain (though I managed to hobble out for the other days that year), and one for reasons I can’t recall but I nonetheless regret. For me, missing a day of HSBG is like forgetting to breathe.

For many years, I was an early arrival in the park, throwing down a tarp or two for my crew by 7 am. I spent many early Sunday mornings listening to Emmylou Harris—one of only two singers to appear at all 22 HSBG festivals (the other is Steve Earle)—run through her traditional soundcheck before a small audience at the Banjo Stage. A few years ago, in the wake of increasing security concerns at events throughout the U.S., HSBG began erecting fences and conducting backpack searches, requiring lineups before the gates opened each morning. Harris, who used to do her soundchecks at around 8:30 am, obliged by moving her soundcheck to shortly after the gates opened so early arrivals could still enjoy the sneak peek. (No pictures allowed!)

The festival was founded by Warren Hellman, a successful investment banker and philanthropist who was also a passionate bluegrass fan. His goal was to share his passion and provide an opportunity for people to experience the joy of music. In addition to funding HSBG, Hellman also provided financial backing to organizations that provide music education to youth in the Bay Area and beyond. Hellman died in 2011, but his legacy includes funding for HSBG for many years to come. Hellman’s family continues to take the lead as producers of HSBG.

Hellman himself was a banjo player. One of my all-time favorite HSBG moments was watching in 2007 as Emmylou Harris and Hazel Dickens presented Hellman with a gift of a banjo signed over the previous year by “just about everyone in bluegrass.” Hellman also played several sets himself over the years with his band The Wronglers.

HSBG by the Numbers – Interlude #2:

• Number of HSBG Festivals that were “Strictly Bluegrass”: 2 (the inaugural and second years, 2001 and 2002).
• Number of HSBG days each year: The first year was just one day, and the second year was expanded to two days, but it's been a three-day event since the third year.
• Scheduled number of performances in 2001: 9.
• Scheduled number of performances in 2024: 72.

HSBG is notable for being “Hardly Strictly” bluegrass music. As noted above, the first two years were deemed “strictly” bluegrass (although even then, there were some tangential performers). Bluegrass pioneers including Doc Watson, Earl Scruggs, and Ralph Stanley have graced the Banjo Stage with performances. Over the years since becoming “Hardly Strictly,” however, the festival’s genre range has included hip-hop (e.g., MC Hammer), funk (e.g., Trombone Shorty), African pop (e.g., Angelique Kidjo), jam bands (e.g., String Cheese Incident), and alt rock (this year features Sleater-Kinney).

The eclectic, genre-eschewing range of headliners for 2024 included bluegrass from Steve Earle (backed by Molly Tuttle and Golden Highway), Greensky Bluegrass, and The Infamous Stringdusters; alt/punk rock from Sleater-Kinney and Yo La Tengo; Americana from Ramblin’ Jack Elliott and The Wood Brothers; and the stylized not-quite-traditional Ukrainian folk of DakhaBrakha. Patti Smith made her fourth appearance at HSBG. For Emmylou Harris, it was her twenty-second time closing the Banjo Stage.

HSBG by the Numbers – Interlude #3:

• Members of Led Zeppelin who have appeared over the years: 2 (Robert Plant, both solo and with Alison Krauss; John Paul Jones with Dave Rawlings Machine).
• Number of appearances over the years by Dolly Parton, Merle Haggard, Cheap Trick, Aimee Mann, Willie Nelson, Wynonna Judd, Michael Franti, Marty Stuart, Dwight Yoakam, the String Cheese Incident, Jackson Browne, and Rufus Wainwright: 1 each (so far).
• Number of acts with different names fronted by Mekons singer and guitar player Jon Langford over the years: at least 13, but ordinary math may not be applicable in this instance.
• Number of times Steve Earle has asked the crowd to join him in flipping off the ear-shattering “Blue Angels” (the U.S. Air Force elite flying squad, often in town the same weekend as HSBG for "Fleet Week") for interrupting his set with jet aircraft noise: at least 1, my wife says more.

DAY ONE: FRIDAY, OCTOBER 3

The Banjo Stage kicked things off with a tribute to Lucinda Williams. (My wife says it’s nice when festivals have tributes to artists before they die.) Steve Earle, Chuck Prophet, Kelly Willis, and Ismay sat together and took turns on selections from Williams’ legendary songbook. Earle’s spin on “2 Kool 2 Be 4-Gotten” was delivered in an iconic Steve Earle growl that was almost Tom Waits-ish. Willis invited her fellow Wonder Women of Country Melissa Carper and Brennen Leigh on stage for a few songs. The four-plus-two ensemble closed the set sharing verses on “Jackson.”

Over at the intimate Arrow Stage, Lindsay Lou and her band had festooned their mic stands with yellow flowers. Lou, who can sing the phone book (as they say), sang entire verses to introduce each of her band members. She also displayed some mad whistling skills and hypnotized the adoring audience with what might best be described as human Theremin yodeling.

On the even more intimate Horseshoe Hill Stage, decorated like a backwoods living room, Matt the Electrician gave a taste of his lyrical mastery. For instance, in “The Ocean Knocked Me Down”:

Let’s feel sad together
Let’s stay mad forever
Let’s build roads where nobody goes
Let’s all help to carry when it’s big and scary
Let’s give hands to hold till we let go

Matt (who, yes indeed, used to be a real professional electrician) also threw in a few lyrics from the opening number of “Jesus Christ Superstar” and—despite teasing that he was going to play a Mr. Bungle cover to close his set—chose to ask* the audience to sing along on the Indigo Girls’ “Closer to Fine.” (*Actually, he didn’t give the audience a choice about singing: “If you don’t wanna sing along, well, you have to sing along.”)

It’s a mystery both why and how Devendra Banhart wore a sleeveless sweater for his set in 85-degree weather. Maybe the lyric of “Seahorse” gave a clue: “Well I’m high and I’m happy and I’m free.”

“Seahorse” was a highlight of the set, a classic San Francisco sound with a long reverb-infused psychedelic jam in the middle à la Quicksilver Messenger Service. A cover of the Grateful Dead’s “Shakedown Street,” sung by Banhart in his distinctively twee accent, got the crowd to its feet. For bonus points, Banhart’s bass player taught everyone how to say “love” in Welsh. (It’s “cariad,” and you roll the Rs.)

That was on the Towers of Gold Stage. Fun fact: This stage took its name from a book written by fest founder Hellman's cousin Frances Dinkelspiel about their great-grandfather: Towers of Gold: How One Jewish Immigrant Named Isaias Hellman Created California. The Towers Stage sits back-to-back with the Swan Stage, and the two venues are scheduled so one act begins when the other ends. It’s common for people to bounce back and forth between these two stages all day, or to stay put at one where you can hear the other on the PA if you don’t care to see what the band on the other stage looks like.

At the moment Banhart ended his set on Towers, Sleater-Kinney walked on the Swan Stage. It’s fair to say they might win this year’s award for “Hardly’est Bluegrass.” The Olympia, WA, indie punk stalwarts are celebrating 30 years since their founding (not 40 years, as the stage announcer mistakenly said in his intro). They took a hiatus in the early 2000s during which Carrie Brownstein, one of the band’s frontwomen, found television fame on “Portlandia.” Perhaps half of their fan base was fervid Sleater-Kinney devotees as far back to the riot grrrl days of the '90s, and the other half discovered them because of the TV show.

Sleater-Kinney slayed at HSBG. Brownstein and Corin Tucker, dressed all in black, alternated on their distinctive melodic yet scream-ish lead vocals. Brownstein’s iconic fuzztone guitar leads were equally matched by her well-honed guitar goddess poses, kicks, and leaps. The set mixed a number of new songs from their 2024 release Little Rope (including a few from the soon-to-be-released deluxe version of the album) with fan faves like “Modern Girl” and the poignant Golden Gate Bridge homage “Jumpers.”

I first saw Cat Power in the '90s opening for Guided by Voices in a NYC club. At that show, she had the stage lights dimmed to near-darkness, and her hair hung over her eyes. She seemed uncomfortable on stage, but her voice was transcendent. At HSBG, she performed a set of early-'60s Bob Dylan music, and her anxiety and shyness were on full display. She held her hands behind her back for the first half of her set, and no photographers were allowed in the pit.

The good news, Ms. Power, is that your interpretations of Dylan’s classics and deep cuts were magical and captivating. You’ve got nothing to be shy about.

She began with accompaniment only by acoustic guitar, electric piano, and harmonica. Her voice was clear and mighty on “She Belongs to Me.” Her message rang true on “Mr. Tambourine Man.” She seemed distracted by the onstage monitor mix, but you couldn’t hear it in her voice.

Then, like Dylan at Newport, she went electric. Backed now by two electric guitars, two keyboards, bass, and drums, she kicked into a higher gear. Power rocked out on “Baby Let Me Follow You Down” with a version akin to Dylan and The Band at “The Last Waltz” rather than Bob’s debut album folk rendition.

She got jazzy for “Just Like Tom Thumb’s Blues.” She invented her own phrasing (including some “Oh my God!” valley-girlisms) for “Ballad of a Thin Man.” Finding new ways to phrase Dylan songs is so Dylanesque!

Friday had delivered. The weekend was off to a running start.

HSBG by the Numbers – Interlude #4:

• Average daily attendance in recent years: anywhere between 35,000 to 250,000 people per day, depending on whom you ask.
• Age range of attendees: 0 to over 90.
• Number of stages in the inaugural year: 2.
• Number of stages in 2024: 6.

DAY TWO: SATURDAY, OCTOBER 5

Fridays are usually a bit lighter, crowd-wise, than the weekend. Saturdays and Sundays at HSBG can attract huge masses of humanity, depending on the weather, the lineup, and who’s playing whom on NFL television. This year, while Friday’s weather was warm, it wasn’t downright hot. But on Saturday morning, the thermometer was already at 80 degrees in the Richmond District of San Francisco by 8:30 am. For y’all folks who don’t live around here, I can tell you—that’s not “normal” in San Francisco.

Perhaps the heat dissuaded people from making the trek to the park over the weekend, a silver lining on those sweltering, cloudless days.

The Swan Stage opened on Saturday morning with Levitation Room. The East LA quintet styles themselves as a '60s Brit psychedelic thing. Their songs are floaty and cosmic, with hints of Oasis and Vampire Weekend, kind of an alt-rock twist on the genre. Fun, high-energy stuff.

The Rooster Stage is in a narrow glen shaded at times by towering eucalyptus trees. While the Banjo Stage hews close to bluegrass, and the Towers of Gold and Swan Stages feature a wide range including rock and funk, the somewhat more intimate Rooster Stage is primarily dedicated to Americana and folk music. Buddy Miller, one of the premier conservators and promoters of both up-and-coming and well-established Americana performers, gets the keys to the Rooster Stage for one day each year to schedule a lineup they call “Buddy Miller’s Cavalcade of Stars.” Miller will invite some well-known artists, but he also gives slots to little-known acts who deserve to fly over the radar for a change. (Among my own discoveries at past “Cavalcades” is The War and Treaty, who won me over in about three seconds.)

The first “Cavalcade” act this year was a set by Emmylou Harris’s band The Red Dirt Boys. Untethered to Emmylou, the Boys hewed close to the folk and country roots that brought acclaim to Harris and Gram Parsons. Will Kimbrough (guitar) and Phil Madeira (keyboards) took advantage of their turn to shine and rocked the glen for a spirited thirty-minute set. Given the ilk who attends HSBG on a regular basis, it’s no surprise that a song named “Thank God for Weed” got big applause.

Next up in the “Cavalcade” was Jobi Riccio. The Denver, CO, native attended Berklee College of Music and has won numerous songwriter awards, including the 2023 Newport Folk Festival John Prine Fellowship. Riccio, playing an acoustic guitar and backed by bass and drums, impressed the audience with lyrics on songs like “Whiplash”:

I had a man he thought himself a cowboy
But cowboys are supposed to be brave
And he went running off like a coyote
Running with his tail between his legs

Back at the Swan Stage, Fruition was having fun with a lively and joyful set. The sorta folk, sorta rock, sorta soul band from Portland, OR, is centered around the voices and songwriting talents of founding trio Jay Cobb Anderson (guitar), Kellen Asebroek (guitar, keyboards), and Mimi Naja (mandolin and guitar). The three reminisced on stage about busking in the park with guerrilla sets during the early days of HSBG. (They later recreated that magic with a surprise pop-up set along one of the trails between stages.)

Fruition fans sang along to songs like Naja’s “I Should Be (On Top of the World).” (Sample lyric: “I’ve been sweet, I’ve been stupid, I’ve been salty, sour and putrid.”) Naja and Anderson frequently faced off with their dueling stringed instruments, grinning with obvious affection for their longtime musical partners.

My wife and I sought refuge from the heat at the shady Horseshoe Hill Stage. We were not alone making the call to do so; it was packed to the gills up there, every inch of shade filled by humans (and occasionally, their dogs). Even so, we found a spot to chill by the back fence. There we caught a few songs by Aussie guitar player Nigel Wearne & The Spectres. His twangy licks were giving Django Reinhardt with a cowboy twist.

Shortly after, it was '80s new wave star Robyn Hitchcock’s turn on the Swan Stage. With more than half a dozen HSBG appearances under his belt, Hitchcock has earned a semi-regular slot at the festival, but this was the first time I caught his act. Looking very '80s-ish in green and purple, Hitchcock paid tribute to an even earlier era with covers of Syd Barrett-era Pink Floyd (“Astronomy Domine” and “See Emily Play”) and the Kinks (“Waterloo Sunset”). Two Beatles covers also made the set.

For the new wavers in the house, Hitchcock spoke lovingly of the Police’s Stewart Copeland and his influence on chorus-heavy guitars of the early '80s. He threw in a few songs from his own discography with The Egyptians as well, including "Madonna of the Wasps" and “Heaven.”

An hour later, the Swan Stage hosted Jimmie Dale Gilmore and Dave Alvin. Backed by The Guilty Ones, Alvin and Gilmore focused on songs from their 2024 collaboration TexiCali. (Gilmore is from Lubbock, TX, and Alvin from Downey, CA.) Dressed in cowboy couture, the songwriters alternated on vocals, and Alvin traded honky-tonk guitar leads with Chris Miller while Brad Fordham (bass) and Lisa Pankratz (drums) provided the rhythm.

Among the tracks from the new record were the apt “We’re Still Here” and “Blind Owl.” Gilmore also reached deep into his own catalog for a rendition of “Dallas.” A cover of the Youngbloods’ “Let’s Get Together” got the audience singing along on the slightly altered, gender-neutral chorus: “C’mon people now, smile on each other.”

My first exposure to Dave Alvin was when Queen invited the Blasters to open a few shows on their 1980 tour, and I sat in the seventh row with my jaw dropping while rockabilly Alvin brothers Dave and Phil tore up the joint. On the Swan Stage Saturday, Dave introduced a Blasters song, “Long White Cadillac,” with a nod to his brother: “My brother Phillip says he sings this better than me. And Dwight Yoakam says the same thing. But it’s my fucking dog. I wrote it and we’re gonna take my puppy out for a walk.”

Alvin also sang another Blasters song, the barn-burning “Marie, Marie,” to close the set.

By this point, roughly midway through the entire festival, I had not seen a single bluegrass performance. I headed over to the Banjo Stage to catch the beginning of Steve Earle’s set backed by Molly Tuttle & Golden Highway. To kick it off, Earle invited an octet of members of the extended Hellman clan to sing some a cappella verses. The rest of the set was a mix of traditional bluegrass and songs from Earle’s catalog (including, for the faithful, his hit “Copperhead Road”), with frequent solos by Tuttle and her band.

Unfortunately, I can only be in one place at a time, and I was compelled to tear myself away from the Banjo Stage to try to catch some Greensky Bluegrass back at Swan. On the way, I heard the introduction for Anders Osborne and Jackie Greene over on Rooster, so I detoured to spend a few minutes watching California native Greene and New Orleans denizen (and transplant from Sweden) Osborne blend their musical genius. Greene played organ for Osborne’s “Burning on the Inside,” and then he grabbed an acoustic guitar to sing “Don’t Let the Devil Take Your Mind.” Again, it was hard to leave, but I was on a mission.

And yes, I had seen Greensky play two sets the night before at the Fillmore. But I still hadn’t got my fill of those guys. Notably, this was the first time I saw them this year (including the previous night) when master pianist Holly Bowling was not on stage as a de facto sixth member of the band. Bowling adds a truly divine, sophisticated, and tasty element to Greensky’s newgrass sound, but it was also nice to hear them without her accompaniment for a change.

I arrived halfway through the set to hear the last refrain of “Living Over.” With the light fading, Greensky played for another half hour as a psychedelic light show wafted over them. After a closing jam on “Kerosene,” the audience refused to leave. Following a minute or two of avidly chanting “One more song!” the crowd was rewarded with a true HSBG rarity: an encore! Greensky returned for a quick take on “Worry for You” to end the second night.

HSBG by the Numbers – Interlude #5:

• Number of beer stands: officially 0. It's BYOB, but (shhhh!) guerrilla beer vendors abound.
• How many dogs are allowed in: all of them, as long as they’re leashed. (I brought my dog once, but I regretted it. Turns out he was not a big crowd fan.)
• How many children are allowed in: all of them, and most are kept off leash.

DAY THREE: SUNDAY, OCTOBER 6

Most longtime HSBG attendees have heard that Emmylou Harris does a soundcheck at the Banjo Stage early on Sunday morning. Still, it’s an intimate affair. Perhaps 500 people show up for it each year. Most are there to put their tarps and blankets and chairs close to the stage for the day, and the Harris soundcheck is an added bonus, a well-earned reward for showing up early to grab land for friends and family who will show up later.

As I walked toward Banjo just before 9 am, I ran into a friend and said, “I’m heading over to Banjo now to see Emmylou do her soundcheck.”

He said, “Oh yes, church.”

With my photo pass, I had the opportunity to get in just before the gates opened, so I got to see “the running of the tarps” at Banjo just as Harris was beginning her soundcheck. Those of us who know the drill also know that Harris prohibits photos during the short morning session. Security people walk through the crowd each year asking people to put their cameras and even their cell phones down. Fair trade—we get to hear something special, and Harris doesn’t see the internet flooded with pics of her sans makeup. I asked a member of her production team for permission to take a photo of people laying down their tarps in front of the stage with a promise that her face would not be recognizable.

Harris made the audience swear not to tell anyone else what songs they were rehearsing—but that was two days ago now, so I’m free to spill the beans. She played snatches of “Red Dirt Girl,” “Get Up John,” and “Tulsa Queen,” among others. Typically, Harris and the Red Dirt Boys only run through about half of each song they play at the soundcheck, mostly to warm up and get their monitors right, etc. On Sunday this year, Harris signaled the band to stop each rendition by throwing her arms out like an ump calling a runner “Safe!” at first base.

More than once, she commented to the crowd after playing half a song with asides like, “To be continued.” Toward the end of the 35-minute stretch, she said, “You’re sworn to secrecy, right? Well, it seems like you folks show up every year, so I’m trying to do something different.” She treated us to almost all of “Return of the Grievous Angel,” the Gram Parsons song that was, for many people, the first time they ever heard Harris sing. There was also a bit of a cappella singing to get the mics right. Then she headed off to breakfast and presumably, eventually, the makeup table.

Festivals are often a great opportunity to discover new music. For me, the biggest find at HSBG this year was The Bones of J.R. Jones. Upstate New York songwriter Jonathon Linaberry got his start playing in hardcore and punk bands before becoming enamored with gospel, folk, and blues. The Bones of J.R. Jones is a Linaberry solo project in studio, but on stage he brings a drummer (Jeremy Kolker). At first glance, it’s easy to compare the duo to the Black Keys, especially in the latter’s early years. And yes, they both travel roads well-paved with the blues—but the comparison ends there. Linaberry’s voice is more like Sturgill Simpson’s, soft yet strong with a bit of tremolo. And not all of the songs are raucous blues.

A standout in the opening set on the Swan Stage was “Animals,” which featured an audience singalong at the end on the lyric, “I wanna be your animal at night.” Linaberry framed his request for audience participation this way: “I used to be a preschool teacher, so I like singalongs.” He also gave away his age a bit (he’s 42) by reminiscing about the first cassette tape he ever owned. “I had to wind it up with a pencil.” That was his introduction to Bruce Springsteen’s “My Hometown.”

The Bones of J.R. Jones was a great back-to-back pairing (literally, both in terms of scheduling and stage placement) with Cedric Burnside. The Memphis-born blues singer and guitar player, accompanied on bass and drums, crushed it on the Towers of Gold Stage with his traditional Delta blues set. Burnside’s guitar picking is in the timeless vein of his idol Hound Dog Taylor and other pioneers like John Lee Hooker. He certainly earned the sweat beading on his brow in the morning sun! (It was already in the 90s.)

Among my personal don’t-miss acts of the weekend was Ramblin’ Jack Elliott. They say, “Never miss a Sunday show”? Well, I say, “Never miss an opportunity to see anyone in their 90s who still has the mojo to take the stage.” At 93, Elliott is an institution. He opened his all-too-short set with “Waiting for a Train” by Jimmie Rodgers. Next was “1913 Massacre,” a song by Elliott’s friend Woody Guthrie. And of course, Ramblin’ Jack had a bit of ramblin’ to do first. “Woody was born in 1912, and the 1913 massacre was in 1913, so he was only one year old when he wrote this song.”

Elliott played an acoustic guitar, accompanied by acoustic bass and mando-guitar. Bass player Banana said at one point, “I want to thank Jack at 93 years old for getting his ass down to GG Park.” That triggered Elliott to ramble about a trip he made to the Bay Area when he was young:

“Pete Seeger did a great show at a store in Sausalito—although I missed half of it because I fell asleep after hitchhiking up to SF. While I was here, I saw Jesse Fuller play.” Elliott’s delightful freight-train-of-thought chugged on. “I got to go on a tour with Jesse. We were in London. You know, the traffic was going the wrong way. Jesse stepped into the street without looking. He had a guitar on his shoulder. I grabbed him and gave him a light shove back. Jesse said, ‘That’s okay. I got insurance.’” Elliott might have gone on a-ramblin’ even further, but Banana whispered in his ear that time was running short.

To close the set, Elliott invited Steve Earle to sing the former’s “912 Greens.” Before turning the mic over to Earle, Elliott said, “This is a song I allegedly wrote. It may be the only song I ever wrote.”

Earle had performed his version of “912 Greens” earlier this year at a tribute to Elliott in San Francisco. This time, Elliott sat at his side interjecting from time to time while Earle spun the tale his own way.

Harking back to his high school days, Earle mused, “My hobby was turning cowboys into LSD—so when I discovered Ramblin’ Jack, he made perfect sense to me.” The two legends hugged when it was over.

I hustled back to the Towers of Gold Stage next for some bluegrass by Santa Cruz’s AJ Lee & Blue Summit. Covers of “He Called Me Baby” (quite soulful) and The New Riders’ classic “Glendale Train” fit in nicely with Lee’s own “Lemons and Tangerines” and other originals by Blue Summit’s two stellar guitar players Scott Gates and Sully Tuttle (yes, he is Molly’s brother). The sun was beating down furiously on the band, but they sweated it out like pros.

When I said that Sleater-Kinney wins my vote for “Hardly’est Bluegrass,” I was well aware that others might award the honor to Ukraine’s DakhaBrakha. But the quartet is rooted deeply in their own country’s roots music, so there’s a kinship with bluegrass in DakhaBrakha’s Eastern European mélange. Having said that, DakhaBrakha, also on Towers, was one of my favorite sets of the year.

I first “discovered” them in a small café on Frenchmen Street in New Orleans a few years ago. If their traditional Ukrainian clothing doesn’t grab your attention, their infectious smiles and deep passion for their music will reel you in. And it’s not all what some might derisively call “goat farm music.” Some of their songs rock with Velvet Underground intensity. Think “Heroin” with accordion. Others are funky; one rap song about a woman trying to find a husband was deep in Fugees territory. The spoken intro for this one, in broken English with a heavy accent, was, “Life can be complicate [sic], like when girl try to find husband. Sometimes it go—” As the speaker’s voice trailed off, a twang from a Jew's harp completed the sentence. For another song, their self-description of being “ethno-techno” summed it up perfectly.

I strongly suggest finding a live video of DakhaBrakha and dancing madly like a trippin’ goat herder in your living room.

Given my love for alternative rock, it’s a mystery to me why I never spent time listening to Yo La Tengo. The trio from Hoboken, NJ, has been together for 40 years, and their mark on the world of indie music is indelible. More than anything, I was impressed on Sunday by Ira Kaplan’s shredding guitar work on the Swan Stage. I was also impressed by the massive crowd, the largest I saw for any act all weekend.

At 4:45 pm on Sunday, all the festival stages were scheduled to spend a moment without music to honor the passing of Greg Wynn, the longtime Operations Producer of HSBG. Wynn died in March this year. In recognition of his significant contributions to the festival, including his efforts to manage the flow of festivalgoers and minimize traffic snarls, the organizers named a central intersection in Golden Gate Park, between the Rooster Stage and Arrow Meadow, "Wynn’s Crossing."

Patti Smith was the final act of the weekend on the Towers of Gold Stage. Notably, her band for this show did not include longtime collaborator Lenny Kaye, but her son Jackson Smith (his father was Fred “Sonic” Smith of the MC5) played guitar alongside bass player/keyboardist Tony Shanahan and Barrett Martin on drums.

She opened with “Dancing Barefoot,” which was probably the only Patti Smith song many of the audience members recognized. Surely, many also knew Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit” when she covered it. This came after singing her own tribute song to Kurt Cobain, 1996’s “About a Boy.”

At one point, she read poetry from a sheet of printer paper, and you could hear a pin drop during her recitation. “Cry humanity, your song is done. Who shall remain to greet the sun?” Throughout her set, Smith scowled, she smiled, she basked in the adoration of thousands of fans, and she strutted like a rock god—which she certainly is.

Smith, who notably disdains cameras in her face when she’s on stage, literally shooed off the photogs in the pit after our allotted three songs. One shutterbug stubbornly remained behind, and Smith was visibly outraged a song later when she strode to the side of the stage to tell a member of her production team to get that person out of the pit. That’s Patti Smith.

The set closer was her anthemic “People Have the Power.” They do, and Smith reminds us to use our power for good every time. That’s Patti Smith too.

As The Wood Brothers began playing on the Swan Stage, most of the crowd at Towers of Gold began to drift off toward their cars, Ubers, buses, and homes. Some stayed in the park to wander over to see Emmylou Harris or The Infamous Stringdusters elsewhere in the festival. The heat was waning as the sun set on another incredible year of Hardly Strictly Bluegrass.

HSBG by the Numbers – Interlude #6:

• Final year of the festival: the Hellman Foundation says it will fund HSBG at least through 2034, and perhaps beyond.
• Average ticket price over the lifespan of HSBG: $0.
• Number of thanks to founder Warren Hellman and the Hellman family for staging HSBG year after year: immeasurable.

It’s almost certain that no musical act in history has produced as many “cover” bands as the Grateful Dead. In nearly every major city in America, as well as countless smaller towns and rural communities, Dead cover bands regularly celebrate the music of that storied band. Some are long-established lineups of cats who gather regularly down under the stars; some are catch-as-catch-can pick-up bands. But in all cases, these ensembles provide an opportunity for gatherings of Deadheads far and wide—including those who experienced shows way back in the '60s, people who got turned on in their college dorms in the “Touch of Grey” '80s, and even kids born after Jerry Garcia died.

There are, I’m sure, hundreds if not thousands of musicians who get on stages in bars and cafes and backyard patios every week across this land to play Dead music. Phil Lesh’s Terrapin Crossroads in San Rafael was a mecca for many of these musicians, including a number of them who got to jam with Phil Lesh. Drummer Danny Luehring’s “Danny’s Live Dead,” a weekly session in west Marin County for almost three years running, has picked up where Terrapin Crossroads left off, giving voice and sound to many of those musicians and a whole lot more.

Since late 2021, “Danny’s Live Dead” has featured shifting lineups including top-flight NorCal jam scene players such as Grahame Lesh (Midnight North), Steve Adams (ALO), Garrett Deloian (Jerry’s Middle Finger), and Sam Grisman (Sam Grisman Project). This week, Luehring invited the Skeleton Krewe Trio to join the fun.

Skeleton Krewe is a dynamic amalgamation of virtuosos featuring Hawaiian slack-key guitarist Stephen Inglis, guitarist/pedal steel player Barry Sless (Bob Weir & Wolf Bros, Phil Lesh & Friends), and keyboardist Rob Barraco (Dark Star Orchestra, Phil Lesh & Friends, The Other Ones). The three longtime friends and collaborators are in the midst of a multi-date tour of Northern California, appearing at times with special guests on board. The trio hooked up with drummer Luehring and bassist JP McLean for this week’s installment of “Danny’s Live Dead” at Peri’s Tavern in Fairfax, CA, Wednesday night for two sets of music.

The Grateful Dead-adjacent associations for these notable musicians are significant. Inglis, a Grammy-nominee, played with Billy Kreutzmann in House of Spirits in Hawaii in the 1990s. Sless has appeared frequently with Bob Weir in his Wolf Bros ensemble and also in multiple Phil & Friends lineups. Barraco is another longtime Phil Lesh cohort. Luehring was tapped by Lesh for several appearances at Terrapin Crossroads. McLean, a venerable Terrapin Crossroads veteran, is a frequent “Danny’s Live Dead” participant. The performance at Peri’s on Wednesday was the quintet’s first time playing together in this unique lineup.

Melding the Skeleton Krewe tour with the “Danny’s Live Dead” experience was sure to be a crowd-pleaser.

Until recently, Luehring’s weekly shows were at the Papermill, one of Marin County’s oldest bars. The Papermill is a notable “dive bar” located in the rural west Marin outpost of Forest Knolls. (Rumor has it that Van Morrison used to drop by the bar for a drink and played songs on the upright piano when he lived in Marin County.) A regular crowd of Deadheads, many of them nostalgic for Terrapin Crossroads, made the scene nearly every week to dance to Luehring & Co’s jams. An antique and somewhat-slanted wooden floor and a cozy wood stove fire in a corner of the barroom added to the ambiance. When my wife and I moved nearby in early 2022, we became regulars too.

Unfortunately, the Papermill shut its doors, at least temporarily, earlier this year. Luehring then relocated his weekly outing to Peri’s in downtown Fairfax. (Fun fact: Peri’s bought the PA system from Terrapin Crossroads after Phil and Jill Lesh closed their venerable venue.) Many of the Terrapin Crossroads/Papermill regulars followed along—and like dozens if not hundreds of bars across America, the weekly Dead night in Fairfax is an occasion to see old friends, make new ones, and dance to the music of the Dead, JGB, Bob Dylan, the Band, etc.

Wednesday night this week was no different. Perhaps a few people made the trek to Fairfax specifically to see Inglis, Barraco, and/or Sless, but the majority of the crowd were regular members of the Danny’s Live Dead crew. They were familiar with the tiny stage at Peri's, the stellar sound system, and the outdoor patio and backyard areas where they could grab a breath of fresh air and stretch out when the barroom crowd gets too thick. (As it often does; Peri’s is not a big room, and there’s a big bottleneck between the stage and the bar.)

The regulars know that no matter who is on stage, Danny Luehring always assembles an ensemble of A-listers who can throw down wicked jams. Reminiscing about the long, strange trip of Danny’s Live Dead for almost three years running, Luehring made note of this himself on stage Wednesday: “I think this is around show 150 tonight, and it’s a good one. We’re really lucky.”

Before the show, Inglis also commented on the resilience and brilliance of Danny’s Live Dead. “It’s incredible. He’s got a great streak going. This will be my fourth or fifth time doing it with him, but my first time doing it at Peri’s; the rest have been at the Papermill.”

The show began with a tasty “Althea,” with Inglis on vocals and a round of solos by him, Sless, and Barraco. Next, McLean came up to the mic for “U.S. Blues.” Throughout the night, Inglis, Barraco, and McLean took turns on vocals.

McLean played barefoot, as he always does, standing on a small piece of carpet in front of his bass amp. Sless began the night standing while playing an electric guitar, but halfway through the first set he took a seat in front of his pedal steel. Even so, he continued playing the six-string electric until switching finally to the pedal steel in the middle of the second set. Barraco was off to the side in a dark corner of the small stage typically reserved for the keyboardist due to the limited space.

Luehring’s kit was set up opposite Barraco, backed by the red drapes that line the walls behind the stage. Luehring is not only one of the most interesting and dynamic interpreters of Grateful Dead music—he’s also one of the most fun to watch. At the Papermill, he liked to keep the lights uber-dim, and it was easy to miss out on seeing his facial expressions as they mimic the energy he puts into his rhythms. The lighting at Peri’s keeps him more in the ostensible spotlight. In jams like “Don’t Let Go” (sung by Barraco near the end of the first set), Luehring drives the energy of the players up and down and thrives on the musical conversations of his cohorts. He does it with his sticks and skins, and also with his expressions. Sometimes it’s like watching an ecstatic hallway dancer tethered to a drum kit.

Inglis’s recordings (for which he has received numerous accolades, including Grammy nominations) are predominantly acoustic. He is an accomplished Hawaiian slack key guitar player, and it’s worth checking out his catalog of mellow, traditional recordings. Trading solos with Sless at Peri’s, Inglis “spoke” the language of Jerry Garcia’s licks, albeit with a significant accent of serious jazz chops. During Sless’s and Barraco’s solos, Inglis’s comp chording was textured, adding a distinctive voice to the familiar compendium of Dead, Dylan, and other classic rock songs.

Like most Wednesday nights at Peri’s, the regulars in the audience included the slow-dancing couple, the “spinner” over by the front door, a wheelchair parked in a reserved spot over by the keyboards. During the set break, the every-week’ers and once-in-a-while’ers mingled—just like at Dead cover band nights in bars and cafes all across America. Danny’s Live Dead is of course only one node of a multi-layered network that provides untold numbers of Deadheads and others with community, connection, and the inspiring, regenerative power of music.

Set two kicked off with a version of Stevie Wonder’s “Higher Ground” that bounced along with an “Estimated Prophet” lilt, made even more Estimated-ish by Sless’s Garcia-like envelope filter during the solo. Sless switched over to pedal steel on Johnny Cash’s “Big River,” adding a country music twang to the mix. During “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds,” a listener could be forgiven for looking over at Barraco during a solo that sounded like a Hammond organ, only to realize it was Sless playing a “Sacred Steel” lead.

A few other notable highlights: Luehring kicking off the aforementioned “Lucy” with just a few punctuation marks on tom-tom and cymbal, then revving up to a four-on-the-floor gear, and finally peeling out with massive drum fills during the closing refrains of the chorus. Inglis switching to acoustic guitar for a spiritual “So Many Roads.” A short tease of Brubeck’s “Blue Rondo à la Turk” before the set-closing “Jack Straw.”

Encores are not expected at Danny’s Live Dead, but this time the still-packed crowd wanted more. The Skeleton Krewe and Co. obliged with “Truckin’.”

Out in the street, a local guy named Tyler stood down the block with a giant hand-held bubble-making apparatus, as he does every Wednesday night. Local bumper stickers say, “Only in Fairfax,” and the nighttime bubbles do their part to set that tone. As the crowd exited Peri’s, they stepped into a street colored with floating psychedelia.

Another week until the next version of Danny’s Live Dead in Fairfax. But not only in Fairfax. The Dead live on in myriad ways and places, and ain’t that grand?

SETLIST

Set 1:

Althea

U.S. Blues

Tangled Up in Blue

What a Wonderful World

Don’t Let Go

Deal

Set 2:

Higher Ground>

>Jam

>Big River

Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds

So Many Roads

Jack Straw

Encore:

Truckin’

Friko, man. Fucking brilliant.

Friko’s 2024 album Where We've Been, Where We Go From Here is one of the most interesting, emotional, and exciting albums of 2024. It’s everything rock is supposed to be. Anthemic, loud guitars? Check. John Lennon-ish angst and introspection? Check. Earwormy, Paul McCartney-ish melodies? Check. Youthful passion, poetry, and poignancy? Check.

The Kinks. The Pixies. Radiohead. Jeff Buckley. Cage the Elephant. Friko is an evolutionary offshoot on a branch of rock that has yielded some of the most thoughtful, intelligent music of the past 60 years. I had high hopes for a moving performance. Friko rewarded those hopes.

At the Fox Theater on Friday night, Friko opened for Australia’s Royel Otis. More on the headliner in a moment. The truth is, I had never heard of Royel Otis until the day of the show. A few months ago, I noted on my calendar that Friko had a date at the Fox in Oakland on their website—and it was only after I got my photo pass request approved on the morning of the show that I looked to see what time the show began and noticed that Friko was the opening act. Total unprofessional "whoops!" on my part, but what the heck, I always like checking out new music.

Friko hails from the Chicago area. The recording duo comprising Niko Kapetan (vocals, guitar) and Bailey Minzenberger (drums) is on tour with an additional bass player and guitarist who add high-energy dynamics, both audibly and visually. Where We've Been, Where We Go From Here is their first full-length album, and Friday night was their first time playing in Oakland.

Kapetan opened the set solo on guitar, introducing himself to the audience (most of whom were there for Royel Otis) with the fervid emotion of his poetry and the vibrancy and charisma of his voice. Following that, the rest of the band came on stage and tore into the raucous "Crimson to Chrome." Friko used their too-short 40-minute slot to alternate between high-energy rock and deeply poignant, melodic numbers. In all, they played most of Where We've Been, Where We Go From Here.

A notable highlight was the Jeff Buckley-ish "Cardinal," an occasion for Kapetan to showcase his marvelous falsetto. It’s a sad song touching on loss—wistful and plaintive, albeit with a touch of hope when a bit of whistling comes in after the last chorus:

Then the evening came and crushed me
The cardinal hit the ground
Someone else instead of me
Figured it all out
Niko, where's your fight now?

"Where We've Been" followed, building a bridge from the lo-fi dynamics of the preceding song to a crescendo of guitar noise and impassioned thrashing on stage. An appropriately loud, bodacious rendition of "Get Numb to It!" closed the set. Friko had delivered the goods!

Royel Otis, the headliner on Friday, is an Australian duo hailing from Sydney. Ostensibly a duo like Friko, Royel Maddell and Otis Pavlovic just released their first full-length album this year. They are riding a wave of notoriety that includes over 100 million Spotify plays for "Oysters in My Pocket." A single of The Cranberries' "Linger" has done nearly as well, landing Royel Otis on the Billboard Hot 100 this summer.

Maddell and Pavlovic took command of a wide stage backed by risers for a drummer and a keyboard player, both of whom also added some backing vocals throughout the night. The band was also backed by a rather large orange prawn hanging under the lights where some less imaginative bands might drape, say, a big flag with the band's name. It wasn't clear why the prawn was there (although some of Royel Otis's song titles, like "Fried Rice," "Claw Foot," "Kool Ade," and the aforementioned "Oysters in My Pocket" hint at a fun obsession with food), but it was kind of cool. Side note: it must be Seafood Week at the Fox, because the following night's headliner was Shannon and the Clams.

Pavlovic did most of the singing, sometimes with a guitar strapped on but mostly with his hands wrapped around the mic. Maddell strummed his guitar with the kind of constant, almost-frenzied up-and-down picking made famous by U2's The Edge. Between Pavlovic's verses and choruses, Maddell punctuated the song breaks with catchy, memorable notes. (Fun fact: Maddell apparently doesn't like close-ups of his face in photos, and the photogs in front were confined to the edge of the pit furthest away from him. Most of the pics that come up in a Google Images search show him hiding his face with his hands or hair.)

Royel Otis has a "big beat" sound that brings to mind Foster the People, MGMT, and fellow Sydneysiders INXS. (OK, I admit I had to ask ChatGPT, "What do you call people from Sydney?") It’s jangly, danceable stuff. The audience ate it up.

For the encore, the duo came out without their backing musicians for "Linger." The crowd sang along. (Consider this for a moment: The Cranberries released that song in 1993. It is certain that neither the members of Royel Otis nor about half of the audience members were even alive then. It's what you might call an "oldie.") Pavlovic honored the crowd's participation: "You guys did so fucking good with that! Thanks for all your help."

He also thanked the silent member of the band. "A big shout out to this huge fucking prawn here behind us." But apparently, the prawn has a contractual agreement limiting its onstage time to barely more than an hour. It was not a lengthy show. Even so, Royel Otis is likely to return with more big beats and food-influenced song titles.

“They’re not the best at what they do. They’re the only ones that do what they do.”

Bill Graham’s famous observation in the 1970s about The Grateful Dead was certainly true at the time. In hindsight today, roughly fifty years after Graham’s renowned declaration (it’s difficult to pin down exactly when he said it), both the insinuation of the Dead’s supremacy and the certainty of their exclusivity are debatable.

Exhibit A:
There are numerous Facebook discussions in Dead-related groups about whether John Mayer is a better interpreter of the Dead’s catalog than Garcia was. I’m not taking sides.* I’m just reporting that people debate this. (*No, wait, yes I am taking sides. Garcia by a landslide. But props to Mayer; he’s pretty damn good.)

Exhibit B:
It is impossible to count all the Dead cover bands out there. Seriously, I’ve seen three completely different lineups myself in just the last week alone! Depending on how one defines the “what they do” part of Graham’s quote, it’s reasonable to say there is no band in history that has been replicated as much as the Dead.

On the other hand, nobody does it exactly like the Dead – and even the different incarnations of The Grateful Dead (the Acid Test and Sixties era with Pigpen years, the Keith and Donna stretch in the 70s, the Brent Mydland and/or Vince Welnick eras, etc.) have their own distinctive flavors. While the many post-Garcia congregations, including The Other Ones, scores of Phil & Friends lineups, Billy and The Kids, and Dead & Co., all have rights to claim direct lineage to the band that Bill Graham lionized, each of these ensembles gave new life to the music of The Grateful Dead. But none of them do exactly what The Grateful Dead did, however you define it.

(Before I continue, I need to take a moment to acknowledge the immense contributions of Phil Lesh to The Grateful Dead, to fans across the U.S. and around the world, to the entire universe of music, and to my life. Heck, I met my wife at a Dead show, so I can truly say Phil changed my life. Phil’s death on the morning between the two shows I am writing about here was shocking and sad, to say the least. That being said, I wrote the first half of this report before I heard the news. More about Lesh later.)

Can we say today that The Grateful Dead are the only ones who ever did what they did? They wrote many of the songs they played, and they played those songs before anyone else did. (Okay, sometimes Robert Hunter played them first.) But lots of bands play those songs now. The Dead had a unique tour scene for decades, complete with parking lots full of Deadheads selling merch to each other and building community across the U.S. That’s part of “what they did.” But Phish has a similar scene, and for that matter, so does Insane Clown Posse. (Google “Juggalos.”) And lots of bands have two drummers and a wicked lead guitar player who improvises long solos while standing on a Persian rug. That’s part of “what the Dead did” too, but it’s hardly unique.

Where does the Grateful Dead end and every other jam band begin?

We don’t need to limit the conversation to jam bands anyway. The Dead’s music has been transformed by numerous performers into reggae, bluegrass, big band jazz, Hawaiian slack key, and probably just about every musical genre out there. Just now, I Googled “Grateful Dead electronica.” Sure enough, there’s a ton of that too out there.

Joe Russo’s Almost Dead (JRAD) is one of the countless bands in the mix. Do they “do” what The Grateful Dead did? Not exactly. But then again, even the Dead in 1990 didn’t “do” what the Dead were doing in 1966.

Whatever JRAD does, they do it really freaking well.

There are so many variations of Dead cover bands out there, something for everyone. Dead & Co., which lies somewhere between an offshoot of the original band and a cover band of sorts, certainly draws the biggest crowds. Those crowds include a huge number of younger never-saw-Jerry fans (“NSJs”), including a ton of “BADJ’ERS.” (Those are young’uns “Born After the Death of Jerry” in 1995. That acronym is my own invention, thank you very much.) On the flip side, you’ve got local bands across the nation playing weekly Grateful Dead nights in bars and clubs. Much lower entry fees, smaller crowds, killer shredders. Something for everyone.

Other than shows featuring Bob Weir or Phil Lesh, JRAD almost certainly draws the biggest crowds among all the bands playing mostly/all Grateful Dead music. Dark Star Orchestra is the only other band in the running. For JRAD, that’s most likely due to a combination of factors:

• All five members of JRAD (Joe Russo, drums and vocals; Tom Hamilton, guitar and vocals; Scott Metzger, guitar and vocals; Dave Dreiwitz, bass; and Marco Benevento, keyboards, piano, and vocals) are off-the-hook amazeballs musicians with distinctive chops.
• They don’t just recreate the sound of the Dead like Dark Star Orchestra (who certainly do a kick-ass job in that department). JRAD finds their own way down the path. Their space jams have a unique taste unlike The Grateful Dead, and none of the instrumentalists mirror the licks nor the tone of Garcia, Weir, Lesh, Kreutzmann, Hart, or the myriad Dead keyboardists.
• Did I mention that they totally shred?!
• For what it’s worth: at least some people I know, including one uber-close family member of mine, think Marco Benevento is freakin’ hot. (I rarely mention people’s looks when I write about music, but in this case, I’ll make an exception. He’s a darn good-lookin’ dude.)
• In the world of debates about the world of The Grateful Dead that I touched on above, some folks argue that Dead & Co. slow down some of their songs too much and often don’t deliver the right punch. (Don’t hate me for writing that, I’m just a humble reporter.) For many Deadheads, JRAD amps up the energy and sticks the landing with more oomph and pizazz.

Not unlike the band they tacitly emulate, JRAD isn’t the best at what they do; they’re the only ones who do what they do.

At the core of JRAD, you’ll find longtime collaborators Joe Russo and Marco Benevento. They met in Boston in the late 90s and formed the Benevento/Russo Duo in the early 2000s. The Duo was known for playing an avant-garde fusion of jazz and rock that was edgy, equally exquisite and brash, and often brilliant. I remember being blown away by a Radiohead cover they played when I first saw them at the High Sierra Music Festival in 2004.

In the early Aughts, the Duo formed Bustle In Your Hedgerow, a Led Zeppelin instrumental cover band, with Metzger and Dreiwitz (who had a ton of notoriety and experience as the bass player for Ween). Their recast versions of Zeppelin, one of my absolute faves, significantly rocked my world. (Please oh please, JRAD, do a Bustle tour!) Seriously, anyone who saw those shows knew these guys had knock-your-socks-off chops.

Later, Russo joined with Weir and Lesh in Furthur, initially playing drums alongside Jay Lane and then backing the band solo when Lane left to rejoin Primus for a spell. That was enough to give Russo a line of credit with Deadheads that would carry over into a ton of attention for JRAD.

Allegedly, JRAD was born when Bustle In Your Hedgerow was booked for a show and the band was asked instead to play Dead songs. Hamilton was added to the mix for the night, the band quickly came up with a name – and the rest is history-in-progress.

All of which brings us to Thursday and Friday night at the Fox Theater in Oakland. (Fun fact: Shows at the Fox are produced by local Bay Area Another Planet Entertainment, which is more or less the child of Bill Graham Presents. So in a way, the ghost of Uncle Bobo was in the house.)

Thursday’s show was not quite sold out, but the house had enough bodies in it to feel kinda-maybe-sorta-almost full. My impression of that would change on Friday.

JRAD kicked it off with an instrumental, mellow take on Latin groove with very little percussion, just Russo on a shaker at first. The vibe had hints of Santana’s “Soul Sacrifice.” That vibe soon morphed into “Jack-A-Roe.”

“Hard to Handle” came next. It’s hard to imagine that this classic was actually a relatively new song when Ron “Pigpen” McKernan added it to the Dead’s repertoire in 1969. Otis Redding had released it as a B-side barely a year earlier. In JRAD’s capable hands, the song felt timeless.

The energy stayed high for “Help on the Way” > “Slipknot.” Typical of JRAD, they skipped the expected Grateful Dead segue into “Franklin’s Tower” and instead jammed into “China Cat Sunflower.” Similarly, there was no “I Know You Rider” after “China Cat.” Delivering the unexpected is just one of the many ways JRAD keeps things fresh and puts their distinctive stamp on the vast inventory of Dead music.

The Grateful Dead only played “I Washed My Hands in Muddy Water” about five times, but that’s enough for JRAD to throw it in the mix. Metzger’s blues voice was powerful on the top-ten country hit from 1965. Although it was crooned by Garcia when the Dead did it, this is as good a time as any to mention that Metzger does a pretty good “Bob Weir” not-quite-an-impersonation with his vocals. Hamilton, who trades with Metzger on most of the singing (Russo sings from time to time as well), doesn’t particularly sing like any members of the Dead.

A heavy blues jam out of “I Washed My Hands” led into “Viola Lee Blues,” the first set closer. Now almost a century old, “Viola Lee” was always a barnburner when the Dead played it, and Lesh often included a lively version in his Phil & Friends sets. JRAD started “Viola Lee” in fifth gear and never let their foot off the pedal.

The second set began mellow, not unlike the first but with a much different groove. Russo started playing softly with mallets, then switched to sticks as the band increased the vigor. They slid eventually into “Estimated Prophet.” You can’t go wrong enticing a Bay Area audience to shout along with the refrain: “California!”

Toward the end of “Estimated,” Benevento turned to his grand piano and hammered out a mind-numbing solo. We can say a lot about Hamilton’s wicked-bitchin’ guitar god solos and Metzger’s tight, blues-based, jazzy leads – but for my money, Benevento’s piano solos are the cream of a very tasty crop of JRAD jams. Along with Holly Bowling, he is the most gifted pianist on the jam band scene. (Remind me sometime to tell you the story of seeing those two brilliant pianists play together for the first time. Yes, that’s a tease.)

What else? Well, there was a strikingly awesome crescendo in “They Love Each Other” leading into the final chorus of “Lord, you can see that it’s true!” There was a cover of Bob Dylan’s never-released “Tell Me, Momma.” Regarding the latter: I can’t find any reference to the Dead ever playing this song. It looks to me like Phil & Friends played a song a few times called “Tell Me, Mama,” and Robert Hunter also wrote lyrics for yet another song with that name, but setlist.com says it was the Dylan song that was played by JRAD Thursday. (Any help out there on this one? I’ll admit to some confusion here.)

“The Wheel” started slow, almost pastoral with a feeling reminiscent of Brian Eno’s ambient stuff. Russo and Hamilton shared vocals on this one, and the theme built into yet another high-intensity crescendo that jumped into the stratosphere for the final refrain of “Bound to cover just a little more ground!”

“Uncle John’s Band” and “Samson and Delilah” gave the audience room to chime in on anthemic lines like, “God damn, well I declare!” and “If I had my way!” Another Benevento piano solo in “Samson” drew big cheers.

For an encore, we have to wonder if JRAD had forewarning from friends in the extended Lesh family of the news that would hit us all like a ton of bricks on Friday morning. “He’s Gone” was spiritual and closed with an a cappella refrain of “Nothing’s gonna bring him back.” Ominous in hindsight. We exited the building in high spirits, unaware of the gathering gloom. The street was ripe with the smell of hot dogs from street vendor carts and the sound of nitrous vendors on the corner blowing up balloons.

Okay, it’s Friday morning now as I write this. Just as I am finishing up my first draft of the intro and Thursday night review, my wife texts me with the news about the death of Phil Lesh. “Phil died today,” she writes. Incredulous that it could be that Phil, I rack my brain for a moment, thinking of which Phil she could mean. “There’s gonna be some major grieving and heart-wrenching music tonight,” she adds, and I absorb the truth. I rush to Facebook and the New York Times website, and there it is. Fuck.

All I can think of at first is the usual trite stuff: “Such a loss.” “May his memory always be a blessing.” “He’s gone …” “May the four winds blow you safely home.”
He wasn’t the best at what he did. He was the only one who did what he did.
“We will survive. We will get by.”

And the show must go on.

So, as it turns out, the JRAD shows at the Fox straddled the time both Before and After. The marquee at the Fox Theater on Friday read, “And love will see you through – Phil.” News that Phish had opened their show on Friday with “Box of Rain” circulated on socials, along with images of the Empire State Building lit up in tie-dye colors for Lesh and a press release from the remaining members of The Grateful Dead honoring their fallen comrade. A friend told me people had started leaving flowers and notes at the empty building in San Rafael that housed Terrapin Crossroads. (I am heading over there shortly as I write to check it out and contribute.)

There were many hugs outside on the street and inside the Fox all night. (Not-so-fun fact: Again, Uncle Bobo was in the house; Bill Graham died on the same calendar date in 1991.) The remaining tickets for Friday’s show sold out quite quickly when the news hit the pavement on Friday morning. I’ve been to the Fox many times, and it was never as packed inside as it was for this show. The demand for community and catharsis was deep. I have to imagine any Dead cover bands out there playing local bars on Friday night were equally inundated with the faithful.

It’s hard for me to write about this show in the usual “review” format. What I will say for starters is that it was the most emotional, intense, energetic performance I have ever experienced in the world of Grateful Dead music. The only similar event I can think of is the Jerry Garcia memorial in Golden Gate Park, but that was several days after he’d died. With Lesh, this was fresh, the tears hadn’t stopped flowing, and many of us were still in deep shock.

Count the members of JRAD among the mourners. All five have shared a stage, and no doubt spent many hours offstage, with Phil Lesh numerous times. Little ol’ me, I only talked with Lesh briefly a few times. Once was on New Year’s Eve in 1992 when the Dead didn’t play – I was a chef in a restaurant at the time, and Phil and Jill Lesh were frequent customers. When Lesh came in to pick up a to-go order that night, I met him at the counter to give him his food. I said, “This is the first time in a decade I didn’t come to see YOU on New Year’s Eve, and you came to see ME!” We laughed and shook hands.

I also got to chat briefly with him a few times at Terrapin Crossroads, where he always received fans with grace, politeness, respect, and a few minutes of his time.

But yeah, for Joe, Marco, Tom, Scott, and Dave – Phil was a friend, perhaps also a mentor, a teacher, a family elder. Same for many people in the audience, I’m sure, given that the Bay Area is chock full of people who worked for the Dead and/or Lesh in one way or the other at some point in time. The wounds were still wide open. Everyone was still processing.

The members of JRAD wore their hearts on their sleeves. Russo was crying and looking toward the heavens. Metzger’s eyes seemed red with tear stains. Same with the eyes of many folks in the front row. One of the rail riders said to me at the set break, “I hope Joe doesn’t keep crying, it makes me cry too every time.” But she said that with compassion, of course, not scolding.

The band began with a mellow, passionate instrumental dirge, their faces imparting their obvious grief. The musicians slowly lifted their wings and emerged with “Birdsong.” Perhaps I only heard what I wanted to hear, but it sounded to me like Hamilton changed the pronoun from “she” to “he” in the lyric: “All I know he sang a little while, and then flew off.” (My wife corroborates this.)

It also seemed to me that Dreiwitz’s bass was extra loud in the mix all night. Or maybe that was just Lesh chiming in.

Next was a potent “Box of Rain.” The entire assemblage sang along. If there’s a heaven, Lesh heard the angels sing. Believe it if you need it.
(I had to pause when I wrote this. A bit emotional. God damn it, this sucks. Let Phil sing!)

Front and center up in the balcony, someone held up a sign. “Thank you Phil.” Two hearts on either side. Thank you, sign person.

As I said, it’s impossible to “review” this show. Yeah, they played lots of great stuff. (Set list below.) The musical interludes and jams and solos were all intense, dazzling, poignant. They took the energy up to the moon and beyond. They brought it down to earth and took time to be reflective and sensitive. This was music that meant something.

There was one space jam I noted, part of “St. Stephen” in the second set, which took me back to the days of the Benevento-Russo Duo. The band was channeling early Pink Floyd, a la “Astronomy Domine” and “Set the Controls for the Heart of the Sun.” If this were an ordinary show, I’d spend time dissecting the alt-jazz genius in this section: Benevento throwing in a dash of Pigpen-ish Farfisa organ; Hamilton’s frenetic picking; Russo keeping a steady pulse while the maelstrom of music grew around him.

But this was not a night for dissection. It was a night for communion and release. I put down my camera for most of the second set. And the set never seemed to end.

The “Unbroken Chain” jam in the midst of the never-ending string of second set songs was another particularly cathartic, emphatic stretch. JRAD skipped the verses and just segued into the bombastic middle part. Phil in the house.

One of the hallmarks of JRAD is they don’t always start songs they tease, and they don’t always finish songs they start. “Cumberland Blues” never reached the coda section. “St. Stephen” never got to the “Fortune comes a’crawlin’” part. It’s really all just one long, amazing song anyway. Doesn’t that kind of sum up Lesh’s long life in a way? Doesn’t it all roll into one?

The second set was far longer than the usual 75 minutes in a typical JRAD show. When they finally came in for a landing after more than two hours, Russo spoke to the gathering. He could barely get out a “Thank you Phil” before breaking down. Hamilton gave him a hug. Color me surprised if there was a dry eye in the house.

The “Not Fade Away” encore surprised nobody, even if they hadn’t given thought ahead of time to what the band might play to send Lesh home on this poignant evening. Truly, our love will not fade away, you could hear it in the singing and clapping in every corner of the Fox. All five members of JRAD finished playing and let the Deadheads take over. They put their instruments aside and stood with us to pay respects to our dear, lost, loved one.
Our love will not fade away.

'Hamilton was the last one on stage. He collected the setlist sheets and hopped into the pit. (Sadly, they didn’t have time for one song written on the setlist, “Broken Arrow,” the Robbie Robertson song Lesh occasionally sang with the Dead.) After handing out copies of the set to some of the folks down front, he stood up on stage again for a minute or so, clapping along with us.

Phil Lesh, 1940-2024. What a long, strange, beautiful trip.

He wasn’t the best at what he did. He was the only one who did what he did.

If you want to enumerate all the amazing San Francisco Bay Area rock, fusion, and jam bands that have played a role in the region’s storied musical history, you might want to start your count with Zero.

Okay, that’s a silly pun. But it’s no joke that Zero has earned a spot among the pantheon of notable NorCal ensembles in the four decades since their early-1980s inception in Marin County. Zero celebrated their 40-year legacy with two sold-out shows at The Mystic Theatre in Petaluma on Friday and Saturday nights this past weekend.

Zero recorded their first tracks in 1984, hence the anniversary date for these shows. Guitarist Steve Kimock and drummer Greg Anton are the enduring heart and soul of the band, which for many years also featured Quicksilver Messenger Service alum John Cipollina on guitar and Martin Fierro on saxophone (Sir Douglas Quintet, Quicksilver, several Jerry Garcia projects).

Other members of Zero’s touring and recording lineups over the years have included vocalists Judge Murphy and Donna Jean Godchaux-MacKay (the Grateful Dead), keyboardist Melvin Seals (Jerry Garcia Band), and Kimock’s son John Morgan Kimock on drums. Add them all together, multiply by the number of years since the band was founded, and square that by a factor over 1,300 shows – and that’s how you get to Zero.

In addition to some of the aforementioned members of Zero’s lineup history, several other Grateful Dead connections are worth mentioning. Lyricist Robert Hunter collaborated with Zero on many songs. Kimock gained the attention of Deadheads in the 1980s after Jerry Garcia reportedly called him his "favorite unknown guitarist." Over the years, Kimock played lead guitar for many Grateful Dead-adjacent projects, a lengthy list that includes Keith and Donna Godchaux's Heart of Gold Band, Bob Weir's Kingfish and RatDog, Vince Welnick's Missing Man Formation, Phil Lesh & Friends, Rhythm Devils with Mickey Hart and Bill Kreutzmann, and The Other Ones (which at times had all of the “core four” post-Garcia members of the Dead). The Dead cred looms large with Zero.

“I've seen a lot of bands, and no band can put the whammy on a crowd like Zero.” - Robert Hunter

The lineup for Zero’s 40th anniversary shows at The Mystic included the legendary Pete Sears on bass (Rod Stewart, Jefferson Starship, Mooonalice, and a million other recordings and tours), Lowell “Banana” Levinger on guitar (The Youngbloods), Hadi El Sadoon on trumpet, Spencer Burrows on keys, and a promise of some “special surprise guests.”

A portion of the proceeds from these shows will benefit the Camp Winnarainbow Grace & Joy Scholarship Fund. Founded by Mr. & Mrs. Wavy Gravy, Camp Winnarainbow is a joyful and magical sleep away camp where kids from all backgrounds develop community, self-confidence, and artistry through circus and performing arts. The Grace & Joy scholarship fund provides an opportunity for economically challenged kids to attend Camp. Visit www.campwinnarainbow.org for more info.

The Friday night show began with a presentation of a new guitar to Kimock by Grateful Guitars, a nonprofit that provides guitars and other instruments for talented marquee and upcoming musicians in the jam universe. Andy Logan of Grateful Guitars and luthier Bill Asher were on stage to hand Kimock a bespoke “Wolf 2.0” – an exact replica of Jerry Garcia’s “Wolf,” one of several guitars Doug Irwin made especially for Garcia. Asher recently crafted a handful of these masterful replicas using Irwin's original templates and drawings using wood from Irwin's private 30-year-old stash of figured maple.

Kimock played his new guitar for most of the evening, and he seemed to thoroughly enjoy his new axe. The first set began with two instrumental Zero classics, a segue of “Coles Law” into “Tangled Hangers.” During “Hangers,” Kimock and Sears hit stride as they played simultaneous leads. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen Sears throw down such a sweet solo, showing off his jazz chops with well-seasoned veteran virtuosity.

Anton took to the mic to introduce “End of the World Blues” from Zero’s 1994 album Chance in a Million. First, he thanked the crowd for “sticking with us for forty years.” Then, after noting the song they were about to play was written by Hunter, Anton dedicated the song: “About a year ago, Phil Lesh told us this was his favorite Zero song. So this one’s for Phil.” Burrows belted out the blues vocals originally sung by Murphy (who died in 2013) with an appropriate level of reverence and passion. “Rigor Mortis” followed, giving Kimock a chance to demonstrate his slide guitar skills. Then the first set closed with Dylan’s “Highway 61 Revisited,” the first cover song of the evening.

To begin the second set, Wavy Gravy took center stage. He began with his familiar signature line: “You’ve got Gravy in your ear. Perhaps, a Q-Tip?” Then, with the band improvising softly behind him, he recited poetry. Setlist.com says the poem was named “Ocean of Love,” so let’s go with that. Renowned Berkeley clown and self-described “sacred mischief maker” Moshe Cohen accompanied Wavy on stage, holding a large flower prop and adding some comic, poignant visuals – plus some confetti.

The second set was largely covers, including Aretha Franklin’s “Baby, Baby,” a moody instrumental version of Jimmy Cliff’s “Many Rivers to Cross” (with Kimock on lap steel guitar), and “Papa Was a Rollin' Stone.” The latter was made famous by The Temptations but originally written by legendary Motown songwriters Norman Whitfield and Barrett Strong, and first recorded by The Undiscovered Truth. Zero gave their own flavor to the classic hit.

In the midst of those covers, vocalist Stephanie Salva (who sings with Anton in a North Bay American roots band Tumbleweed Soul) joined Zero to sing renditions of two originals. First, Salva belted out full-throated blues on “Pits of Thunder,” and then she bared her soul on “Catalina.”

Throughout the night, Burrows, Banana, and El Sadoon took spotlights to solo on their instruments. Burrows was a good match for Kimock stylistically. Echoes of The Youngbloods were evident in Banana’s accompaniment and solos on keys and mando-guitar. Make no mistake though: since the days of Cipollina and Fiero, Kimock has clearly held ground as the primary soloist and distinctive voice of Zero’s music. When he soars, Zero soars.

For an encore, Zero returned to play “Gregg’s Eggs,” first recorded by Zero for Kimock’s 1989 release Nothin’ Goes Here. “Eggs” is instrumental jazzy rock, which many fans feel is the band’s strongest forte. A compelling, driving beat by Anton propels “Eggs” behind fusion trumpet and guitar solos on a tour through multiple layers that revolve around a catchy musical phrase. A perfect ending for Night One at The Mystic.

No matter how you compute it, you can’t go wrong if the answer is Zero.

When Grateful Dead founding member and bassist extraordinaire Phil Lesh died last month on October 25, he left behind a legacy that will long be remembered and celebrated by a loving family, friends, and musical associates too numerous to count, and a global community of fans.

Perhaps the word “fans” doesn’t quite capture the essence of the Deadhead community. Unlike any band before or since, enthusiasts of the Dead are intricately and intimately bound in a way that transcends musical fanaticism. It’s not just the songs, the shows, or the musicians. Being a Deadhead is a lifestyle. It’s a life. It’s an identity. I first met my wonderful wife of over thirty years at a Dead show, for gosh sakes, and we’re hardly the only family forged in that fire.

“Dead Freaks Unite.”

The call to identify Grateful Dead acolytes appeared on the band’s 1971 live album Grateful Dead (commonly known as Skull and Roses). Below the banner on the back cover was an address where people could send the answers to three questions:

• WHO are you?
• WHERE are you?
• HOW are you?

The mailing address directed respondents to a P.O. Box belonging to “Dead Heads.” Perhaps the moniker had existed before this, but it cemented the name for the legion of dedicated followers. (Most people today seem to spell it as one word, “Deadheads,” but it’s notable that the message released last month by surviving bandmates Bob Weir, Bill Kreutzmann, and Mickey Hart when Lesh died used the old two-word spelling.)

Some musicians leave a legacy of cherished music. The legacy of the Grateful Dead goes far beyond the music.

Terrapin Crossroads (TXR), the bar, restaurant, and music venue Lesh created in Marin County, sits high atop the pile of treasures that constitute his enormous legacy. Lesh’s goal was to create “a vibrant community gathering place: beautiful, comfortable, welcoming – for members of the community to commingle and enjoy good music.” In 2012, TXR opened its doors in San Rafael. The rest is history.

Thousands of people in Marin County and the Bay Area became regular patrons as quick as you can say “Jack Straw.” Thousands more made the trek over the next decade, some flying here just to visit the house that Lesh built, others making a point to stop by when visiting the region to see friends, family, shows, or other local attractions. (Rumor has it that there’s a cool red bridge nearby that draws a lot of tourists. Who knew?!)

My wife and I were among the regulars. We were there at least once a week for years, sometimes more. And for the record, I usually hate going to bars, other than to see music. But TXR was the most comfortable and welcoming bar I’ve ever known. Cozy seats in the lounge and bar area, where there was free music every night of the week (no cover charge or ticket fee in the bar ever). A fairly good restaurant with indoor and outdoor seating. Cool merch for sale. Pics of the band on the walls. And a separate, intimate venue called “The Grate Room” for ticketed shows, often featuring Lesh and innumerable “friends.” Many other jam bands and the like played there as well.

Those of us on the mailing list often got a message in our inboxes announcing that Phil would be playing for free in the bar that night. How cool was that?!

My mother-in-law, who is not a Deadhead in the least, went to TXR once. She got to see one of those free Phil shows when my wife took her to TXR for dinner. She “got it” immediately: “The music is not the show. The people are the show.”

People joining hand in hand, while the music plays the band.

Suffice to say that Lesh and his family achieved their goal when they opened the storied venue. It was vibrant. There was indeed much commingling. And the music kicked ass.

But TXR wasn’t just about cool music in a fun bar. Lesh hosted Passover seders, read to young children on weekends, and often just sat at his reserved table in the bar watching other musicians play. He sang karaoke with other patrons. He joined in singing impromptu rounds of “Happy Birthday” when people were celebrating in the bar. He was always gracious to anyone who came up to say Hi, Thank You, and “Remember when …?”

It was community. It was home.

Later, TXR began using a small city park next door for outdoor shows. There was a playground, and kids joined their parents for the festivities. A canal behind the stage was often occupied by kayakers or small boats listening to the music. You could listen for free on the street behind the park if you didn’t have a ticket. Everybody was dancin’.

The music never stopped.

One sad, poignant night, Lesh hosted a fireside vigil in the park for the lives lost in the tragedy at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida. My wife and I spoke to Lesh when the vigil was over. We thanked him for creating a space for our community to come together, not just in times of joy but in times of grief and hardship. (This wasn’t the first time; in 2016, when Trump won his first election, many of us gathered there to drown our sorrows together in music and solidarity.) Through tears, Lesh told us that he and his wife Jill opened TXR for this very reason. It was about so much more than the music. We hugged. More tears.

But then the music stopped.

After Covid closed the indoor venues (for good, as it turned out), TXR continued to host shows in the park for a while until finally calling it quits in 2021. The final event was a public auction of TXR fixtures and memorabilia held in the park next door. Some of the regular musicians from the TXR bar and Grate Room provided some tunes. (I think on the day I went it was Dan “Lebo” Lebowitz, Scott Law, and Stu Allen, all of them frequent Phil & Friends guitarists.) One guy I know bought some barstools. My wife bought some office supplies; I can’t remember exactly what it was. Just to have something. A bar in nearby Fairfax ended up with the PA system from the Grate Room.

Lesh, of course, continued to play music after the demise of TXR. He played live shows, did some touring, and also sat in on “Clubhouse” jams in a studio that were broadcast on the internet. His last appearance on a stage was in July at an outdoor event on the shore of the bay in San Rafael.

And then the music stopped.

The message released by Weir, Kreutzmann, and Hart after Lesh died said, “There will be a lot of tributes, and they will all say important things.”

One of the most heartfelt tributes, and one near to my heart, was launched by my friend Rachel Anne. It says so many important things.

This is a tribute not just to Phil Lesh but to TXR and the vibrant, beautiful, comfortable, welcoming environment that so many of us got to share with Lesh for so many years. In retrospect, it feels like we never got to pay proper respects to our clubhouse. We were temporarily evicted by Covid and left wandering in the wilderness when events closed the venue for good.

Rachel Anne is a devoted Deadhead who moved to California after being inspired by a conversation with Mountain Girl. Her deep connection to the venue mirrored the experience of so many others – a home away from home, where the music and the people made every moment magical. I’ll let her take it from here to tell her part of the story (which is, in a way, part of my story too, and perhaps yours as well):

Phil really wanted us to experience his life and legacy with him and his family.

I was at TXR at least four times a week. People would say to me, “What are you doing tonight?” and I’d say, “Well, I’m going to Terrapin.” They’d say, “What are you doing there?” and I’d say, “What do you mean, what am I doing there?!”

It was comfortable. And we knew everyone. You could go by yourself because all of your friends were already there.

When Phil died, I thought of how much joy the Grate Room and Phil gave me, and I could think of no other way to celebrate that other than to put up some photos of him. I took over this whiteboard I had. And I had another whiteboard; I took that too. I just wanted to sit with him, to sit with that energy and thank him.

We had to use a saw and scissors to clear all the vegetation. [The building is currently for sale, and the owner has let the weeds and vines grow rampantly.] You couldn’t even see the door to the Grate Room.

People started going and finding the memorial and leaving things. I posted on Facebook, “If you want to send me something, I’ll print it and bring it over there.” I got so many really heartfelt, amazing photos and letters to Phil.

It was like we all got to be at the Grate Room one more time.

I’ve been to the Grate Room doors four times now since Rachel Anne initiated this loving tribute. I’ve run into a few friends who happened to show up at the same time as I did, and I met a few strangers who happened to walk by the building not knowing there was any sort of homage.

So many of the messages left for Lesh at TXR quote Grateful Dead songs. Every Deadhead will find their own solace and poignancy in the lyrics that speak to them – there is no shortage of suitable material in that vast catalog. When I go to TXR and think of Phil Lesh and our time shared on this planet, these are the words that resonate most for me:

Such a long, long time to be gone
And a short time to be there

There are two kinds of people in this world: People who know that Kathleen Edwards is one of the most gifted singer-songwriters at the nexus of rock, folk, and Americana – and people who are missing out. Which type are you?

The Sweetwater in Mill Valley was only half full for Edwards’ show on Sunday night, but her faithful fans were treated to a tour de force performance. Her voice and songcraft resonated in a stripped-down set featuring Edwards on electric and acoustic guitars, accompanied only by guitarist Gord Tough and Thom Hammerton on keyboards. Her most familiar songs (including “Back to Me” from 2005, which got significant airplay on AOR radio in the US and Canada) tend to occupy a mellow but forceful rock space shared with Tom Petty, Lucinda Williams, and Sheryl Crow. With no drums or bass, this intimate show was an opportunity to focus on the resonance of Edwards’ not-quite-smoky vocal timbre and the tenderness and vibrancy of her lyrics.

Edwards wears her influences on her sleeve. She spoke to the audience about recording tracks this year with producer Jim Scott, touting his experience working on albums she reveres, including Car Wheels on a Gravel Road by Williams and Wildflowers by Petty. (Fun fact: Heartbreaker keyboardist Benmont Tench has made frequent appearances on Edwards’ albums.) The influence of those two FM radio stalwarts is obvious in Edwards’ own music, as are elements of Patty Griffin, Ryan Adams, and Gillian Welch. Fellow Canadians Neil Young and Robbie Robertson echo in the mix as well.

We’re lucky Edwards is still recording and touring. A decade ago, the singer took a break from the music world to open a coffee shop in Stittsville (a suburb of Ottawa) called Quitters. But she kept writing songs, and in 2020 she released Total Freedom. (Ironically, given the name, she sold Quitters a few years ago.)

Personal note: “Glenfern,” the opening track on the album and the show opener on Sunday night, has been in constant rotation in my Spotify playlists for four years now. Probably one of my top five songs played over this stretch. Call me a fan.

Most of the songs Edwards played at The Sweetwater were originals, but she threw in a sweet and sad version of John Prine’s “Hello in There.” Another cover, Petty’s “Crawling Back to You” (recently released as a single), closed the show. Edwards is adept at rephrasing, making these songs shine with her own distinctive verve.

Still, it’s the songs from her own catalog that sparkle brightest. There were songs that flowed slowly by like a river of clear water, and songs that built energy like summer rain beating on a rooftop. Throughout the show, melodic guitar inflections by Tough and solos by both Tough and Hammerton helped to shape the flow and frame the arc of energy. (Tough has appeared on several of Edwards’ albums and has toured with her many times.) In front of it all – first among equals, we might say – Edwards’ storytelling and emotional delivery led the way.

She gave her accompanists a break midway through the set and flew solo on “Copied Keys,” one of only two songs she played on Sunday from her breakthrough 2005 album Back to Me.

Before bringing back Tough and Hammerton, opening act Ken Yates joined Edwards for a song they wrote together, “Burn The Cedar, Burn The Sage.”

The Sweetwater has a reputation for a talky crowd. That wasn’t the case at this show. The audience was wrapped around Edwards’ finger all night long. Her smile brightens up a dark room, and her voice gives hope and empowers confidence even when she sings about heartache and loss. The force of human connection is strong when Edwards is center stage.

The set ended with “Hard on Everyone” (also from Total Freedom) and “In State.” The latter has a hook that gives a taste of Edwards’ wry lyrical sensibility:

Don’t say you’ll change after the next time
You wouldn’t even be yourself if you weren’t telling a lie.

Another taste of Edwards’ ironic sensibility came when she returned for an encore. An audience member shouted, “You have a face like an angel and a mouth like a sailor.” Edwards responded in kind: “Thank you, that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

Ken Yates, a fellow Canadian (he made that abundantly clear each time he spoke to the crowd), opened with a solo performance. His songs were soft and sincere. A worthy sample of his wordsmithing skills, from the title track of Yates’ soon-to-be-released album Total Cinema: “If I’m lucky, when I’m done, I’ll have an audience of one.”

He played mostly in open tunings on a Fender Jaguar guitar accented with mellow chorus and reverb effects. It’s worth noting that his banter during his frequent re-tunings was at least as good as his songs. For instance, he said that “Kathleen and I are here to be your emotional support Canadians for the night.” Later, he spoke of moving to London, ON, comparing that town to its namesake UK metropolis: “All the same street names, just way shittier.” He mentioned being a Toronto Raptor fan, and the respectful Bay Area audience let him get away with that with no heckling despite being in Golden State Warriors country. (Yeah, that’s right, I’m calling him out for that now.)

KATHLEEN EDWARDS SETLIST

Glenfern
Empty Threat
Change the Sheets
Birds on a Feeder
Who Rescued Who
Hello in There (John Prine cover)
Six O’Clock News
Copied Keys (Kathleen solo)
When the Truth Comes Out (Kathleen solo)
Burn The Cedar, Burn The Sage (with Ken Yates)
Asking For Flowers (with Ken Yates and band)
Mercury (with Ken Yates and band)
Hard on Everyone
In State

Encore:
Hockey Skates
Crawling Back to You (Tom Petty cover)

Music fans who like a taste of alt-pop-psychedelia with an indie twist (Tame Impala, Flaming Lips) might want to jump into Pond. The Australian quintet played at The Regency Ballroom in San Francisco on Tuesday night with opening act Fazerdaze.

The show was initially slated for the nearby Warfield Theatre, but lagging ticket sales for the weeknight holiday season show forced a re-lo. Even so, the audience was significantly larger than the band drew to The New Parish nightclub in Oakland just a few months ago. A diverse cast of Millennials, Gen Z'ers, and a handful of Gen X/Baby Boomers no doubt discovered Pond through their Tame Impala roots – several members of Pond have toured and recorded with that ensemble. Others may have stumbled upon them via random Spotify or YouTube airplay or got turned on by their uber-cool friends. Regardless of how they found their way, the fans have come to appreciate Pond’s songcraft, and word of their energetic, exciting stage show has spread.

Pond delivers a powerful punch on stage with their sonic and melodic songs. Their music is edgy enough to be distinctive but doesn’t veer too far from avenues trodden by Oasis, Muse, and Todd Rundgren. The sound is lush, proggy, and full of bravado. Check out the single "(I'm) Stung" from their latest album, for instance, and tell me it doesn’t remind you of Utopia.

The not-so-secret weapon when Pond hits the stage is singer Nick Allbrook. While his voice is interesting and dynamic on record, he’s an entertaining sight to behold on stage. Sure, the guy can sing – but he commands attention with his well-honed rock star strutting and posing. Allbrook has studied the James Brown Book of Stagecraft for sure. He also frequently forays into the audience, leaping over the photo pit to interact directly and physically with the audience. He sings a line or two directly to everyone in the front row, and he’ll touch everyone within seven or eight feet of the rail by the end of the show.

The dude even crowd-surfs. After one circuit through the crowd back in May at New Parish, he thanked his literal supporters, “I put my skull in your hands, and you never fail. I’ve never once had my skull cracked open.”

A classic San Francisco liquid light performance by Lance Gordon’s Mad Alchemy during Pond’s set meshed well with the band’s neo-psychedelic sonic performance. Bubbles of electric light grooved and throbbed behind the band, also illuminating the walls and ceilings of the Beaux-Arts ballroom.

In addition to Allbrook (who plays flute and occasional guitar, in addition to being constantly in motion on or off the stage), Pond features guitarist "Shiny" Joe Ryan, Jay "GUM" Watson (drums, vocals, bass, guitar, keys), and Jamie Terry (keys, bass). The fifth member of the quintet at The Regency was Pond’s longtime guitar tech (apologies, I didn’t catch his name), who is filling in on drums at present for James "Gin" Ireland. Introducing the band, Allbrook mentioned something about Ireland taking time off to play for the Australian national cricket team, if I heard correctly. For roughly half the show, only the core four Pond’ers were on stage, with Watson switching back and forth between drums, keys, and guitars.

Given the personnel shakeup, Pond played a different set than the one I saw in May. Allbrook explained that the set was “all cobbled together. We’re playing songs from the back catalog.” For an encore, Pond followed their (relatively speaking) oldie “Fantastic Explosion of Time” from 2012 with the more recent (2019) “Don’t Look at the Sun or You’ll Go Blind.” Once again leaning over the rail to meld with the audience to shake hands and bump fists, Allbrook added several lines of the refrain from Mystikal’s “Shake Ya Ass.” The fans were glad to oblige with such shaking.

New Zealand’s Fazerdaze opened with a tight 30-minute set of tunes that switch-backed between ethereal dreaminess, drum machine beats, and riot grrrl guitar riffs. Along with a musical accompanist, Amelia Rahayu Murray (she is, essentially, Fazerdaze) shoe-gazed her way through a handful of songs that hinted at her songwriting prowess. Her opening song, “Break!,” was giving Sleater-Kinney guitar and showcased Murray’s indie-cool lyrics:

If in doubt pray to God
It’s a shame no one’s listening

POND SETLIST
Daisy
(I’m) Stung
Neon River
Sweep Me Off My Feet
So Lo
Fire in the Water
Black Lung
Human Touch
Aloneaflameaflower
Paint Me Silver
Giant Tortoise / Torn Asunder
Toast

Encore:
Fantastic Explosion of Time
Don’t Look at the Sun or You’ll Go Blind
(with “Shake Ya Ass” by Mystikal tease)

The spotlight on Dawes has always focused primarily on the Goldsmith brothers, Taylor and Griffin. Now, after numerous lineup changes and departures, it’s all about the bros.

That’s not to say their touring band isn’t up to snuff. But the title of Dawes’ latest album, Oh Brother, is more than an expression of exasperation following the resignation of two key band members in 2023. It’s a clarion call, a declaration of independence. Friday night’s performance at San Francisco’s Fillmore Auditorium wasn’t a pity party – it was a victory lap.

Dawes has influential roots in the Los Angeles musical legacy that stretches from Laurel Canyon to Sunset Boulevard. A heavy dose of Jackson Browne; a whiff of Neil Young; the fun, sunny lyricism of Sheryl Crow; the emotional honesty of John Doe. For bonus points, Taylor Goldsmith name-checks Joni Mitchell on “House Parties,” one of the tracks from Oh Brother. (He also disses Kanye shortly thereafter.)

Taylor Goldsmith’s songcraft appeals most of all to people who like listening to the words. His songs are ironic, often built around memorable turns of phrase that lie comfortably midway between pithy and genius. The cleverness of his wordsmithing might inspire other lyricists to say, “Gee whiz, why didn’t I think of that one?”

May all your favorite bands stay together.
Indeed!

You can stare into the abyss, and it’s staring right back.
Ain’t that the truth?!

The music is consistently FM-radio-ready mellow-ish rock. Dawes is not as deep and emo as Elliott Smith nor as trite and sappy as (fill in the name of whatever pop star you loathe the most here). They’re everybody’s favorite band – except for the billions of people who have never heard of them.

The first time I saw Dawes was at a music festival in 2011. There were maybe 150 people in a hot tent (most people at the fest were off watching other acts on other stages). But it seemed like everybody there knew all the words to the anthemic “When My Time Comes“ from their debut 2009 album.

At this week’s show, a couple from New Hampshire was front and center. It was their first visit to the fabled Fillmore, but not their first Dawes rodeo. Ann has seen them 97 times, Justin 96. (Justin blamed his laggard attendance on being a good dad, allowing Ann to see one show he had to miss.) A piker next to them said she was still under 30 shows, but she had aspirations to improve her count.

There is a non-zero probability that a not-insignificant minority of Dawes’ fanbase discovered them in the wake of appearances by each of the brothers Goldsmith in Phil & Friends lineups. Perhaps others were attracted by the tangential Allman Brothers connection; Dickey Betts' son Duane shared lead guitar duties in Dawes with Taylor Goldsmith for a few years before exiting and then forming the Allman Betts Band with other scions of the Allmans.

The Fillmore show was billed as “An Evening with Dawes.” The diehards know this means two sets and no opener. Taylor confirmed after taking the stage: “As much as we like bringing out an opening band, it’s really nice having you all to ourselves.”

On this tour, the brothers Goldsmith are accompanied by Trevor Menear on rhythm and lead guitar (a member of the touring ensemble since 2016), Ian Bush on percussion, Z Lynch on bass, and Wil Blades on keys. The Fillmore show was only the second appearance by Blades, whose résumé also includes stints with John Lee Hooker, John Scofield, Karl Denson, and The Headhunters.

The first set kicked off with “Mister Los Angeles,” the punchy opening track from the new album. As the night progressed, several other new songs were tossed in the mix – six of the nine cuts from Oh Brother all told. Of those, “House Parties” and “King of the Never-Wills,” also included in the first set, respectively showcased the fun, catchy rock and roll side and the pensive, introspective flank of Taylor Goldsmith’s writing.

Throughout the night, Taylor and Menear traded guitar leads. Blades, still new to the playlist, laid low for most of the night, still finding his way and adding texture. Above it all, the harmony of the Goldsmiths defined the band’s signature sound. Interestingly, it’s often Taylor who takes the high notes with a falsetto when his brother chimes in from behind the drums. Like so many sibling vocal partnerships, the timbre and tone of their voices mesh perfectly.

The first set closed with “When My Time Comes.” As the song came to an end, Taylor turned his mic stand to face the audience, who ardently took over to sing the refrain.

Taylor started the second set by playing two songs solo on acoustic guitar. The second of these two, “St. Augustine at Night,” is perhaps his most poignant, passionate song. Like Bruce Springsteen’s “The River,” “St. Augustine” is a powerful narrative of disillusionment and loss:

The Lord must really love us common folk
'Cause he made so goddamn much
Now, if he'd just point the way to go
If he could just start speaking up

There may have been some tears in the crowd.

Later in the set, the band showed off their instrumental skills with a jam in “Front Row Seat” that was downright Allman Brothers-ish, including harmonized guitar riffs, and another jam in “Fire Away” that hinted at The Grateful Dead’s jazziest, most frenetic material like “Slipknot” and “Supplication.”

Taylor sat next to Blades to play keys on “A Little Bit of Everything,” slowing down the tempo for one more emotional moment before bringing the set to a close with the epic “Someone Else's Café / Doomscroller Tries to Relax” and “All Your Favorite Bands.” As with the first set, Dawes let the audience sing the final chorus while the band members stood at attention. The mutual respect between musicians and audience was palpable.

A two-song encore included a massive Blades organ solo on “Feed the Fire.” Before sending the audience home, Taylor waxed poetic and pensive on the sad, ironic “Hilarity Ensues”:

There's a bit lost in translation, always something misconstrued.

That’s not the case with Dawes. Nothing gets lost in translation, and the message is clear. They might be down to just two permanent members, but Dawes is still Dawes. May all our favorite bands stay together.

Setlist
Set 1:
Mister Los Angeles
Coming Back to a Man
Roll With the Punches
Crack the Case
House Parties
Somewhere Along the Way
King of the Never‐Wills
Still Feel Like a Kid
Comes in Waves
When My Time Comes

Set 2:
Something in Common (Taylor Goldsmith solo acoustic)
St. Augustine at Night (Taylor Goldsmith solo acoustic)
Enough Already
Front Row Seat
Fire Away
From a Window Seat
A Little Bit of Everything
Someone Else's Café / Doomscroller Tries to Relax
All Your Favorite Bands

Encore:
Feed the Fire
Hilarity Ensues

It would be a mistake to oversimplify the blues by defining the genre as nothing more than “songs about sad stuff.” Surely, like certain religions that tell us all life is suffering (and yes, that is also an oversimplification), the blues are rooted in humankind’s universal, lizard-brain responses triggered by heartache, loss, and lowered expectations. Oh, and then we get a guitar solo, or maybe some bitchin’ organ crescendos to take us to church. The blues, oversimplified.

The magic of the blues – its secret sauce, if you will – is the visceral, ubiquitous connective tissue, the essence of our species’ humanity. Everybody gets the blues. Universal empathy is inherent in many musical genres, but there is a reason the blues in particular are a worldwide musical phenomenon. Something distinctively earthy, verdant, and even bloody is alive in the blues.

Anyone can get the blues. A toddler, when she scrapes her knee. A middle schooler whose first crush is unrequited. Voters, when their candidate loses. (Man, that one still hurts.) My mother got the blues bad when my father died a few years ago at 92. Did I say “anyone“? I mean, everyone. Everyone gets the blues.

The irony is that a blues concert can be incredibly uplifting, spiritual, joyful. Toes tap, couples dance, smiles sparkle up our eyes and lift the corners of our mouth until they ache.

In fact, possibly the best antidote for having the blues is to head on down to the nearest blues concert. Ironic, right?

That’s exactly what several hundred Bay Area peeps did on Monday night. Hard to say how many people were feeling low when they walked into the Fillmore, but it’s a darn good bet that the count was far lower a few hours later when everybody left.

Samantha Fish is currently headlining her “Shake ‘Em on Down” tour with Cedric Burnside and Jon Spencer in supporting roles. It’s a pan-American lineup – Fish is from Kansas City, Spencer is from New Hampshire, and Burnside was born in Tennessee and raised in Mississippi. The tour is finishing the year in style with several dates up and down the California coast.

Is it a cliché that any woman who plays ripping electric guitar solos gets called “bad ass”? Perhaps, but I’m going to go there anyway: Samantha Fish is bad ass. You’ll probably see a picture of her in the dictionary if you looked up the word “macho.” Or “sexy.” Or “beast.” Bill Graham once wrote that he thought Otis Redding, when he took the stage at the Fillmore so many years ago, was dripping with more sexuality than anyone he’d ever seen. Fish might give even a dead man in his grave pause to reconsider. (No disrespect, we miss you, Uncle Bobo!)

With Samantha Fish, we’re talking “Get the fuck out of my way, I’m here to take what’s mine!” sensuality, just so we’re clear. (The blues are ironic, remember?)

Bad ass women who shred blues guitars are having a moment right now. Bonnie Raitt was a Kennedy Center honoree this month. Larkin Poe is moving up music festival lineups to top tier. Susan Tedeschi is already there. Only 18, Grace Bowers recently played on The Tonight Show, she’s poised to blow up. (Haven’t heard of her yet? You will.) Yes, we will run out of fingers and toes counting all the bad ass women on blues guitars going back even before Elizabeth Cotton. Everything old is new again. More blues irony.

You want to know what she played? Set list, schmet list; she played the fucking blues, okay?! Heavy rock ‘n’ roll blues. Wicked-ass shitface-inducing guitar solo blues. You’d better listen to me, asshole, because I’m singing right now — so shut up and pay attention! Blues that was inspired by pain and suffering (and maybe seasoned with just a little bit of gloating). Blues that serves to escape melancholia rather than wallow in it.

For the record, the lady can sing too. In the midst of a long set full of bombast and bravado, Fish whipped out “Dream Girl” – just in case anyone wasn’t paying attention to her pitch-perfect vocal delivery. Then, having proved her point she built back up to a cyclone of wind-whipped fire and brimstone.

For an encore, Fish had Jon Spencer join her on stage. She had him kneel on the ground so she could tower over him and make it clear who’s the boss. Fun was had.

Samantha Fish isn’t about suffering; she’s about freeing your heart, and then your mind will follow. Trust the Fish; she knows.

Some blues history connects the two openers. Cedric Burnside’s grandfather R. L. Burnside played the blues in relative obscurity for decades before finally hitting pay-dirt in his septuagenarian years. The breakthrough critical acclaim and record sales for his music was in great part due to the elder Burnside becoming the opening act and sometime collaborator with Jon Spencer’s Blues Explosion in the mid ’90s. (Fish has credited the elder Burnside as an influence, so it’s all full-circle.)

The younger Burnside, a true scion of the genre, plays blues guitar much like the old masters. His picking style is rhythmic, almost percussive, and you can taste every bite. Burnside’s north Mississippi boogies are mined from the same rich vein that yielded John Lee Hooker and later the aptly named North Mississippi Allstars. It’s electrified porch music with hints of Chicago, whiskey, and card games played on folding tables in smokey kitchens.

His bass player actually uses a Bass VI—a six-string instrument tuned to the bass register without any pedals. His drummer sits right up front, the trio spread out laterally across the stage. All cool beans.

Jon Spencer is, relatively speaking, the old guard on this tour. His Blues Explosion was the blues shit in the extended jam world in the 90s. Now unchained to his longtime band, Spencer still explodes with the blues on stage. He’s a ball of fire, all angsty with his fuzztone and ‘tude both cranked up to eleven. His young accompanists on bass and drums were equally fuzzy and frenetic.

Spencer may hail from the end days of the last century, but his vibe is MC5 and Ten Years After. (Fish, by the way, opened her set with a cover of the MC5’s “Kick Out the Jams.”) Who needs coffee with this guy around?!

When the children of rock and roll legends follow in their parents’ footsteps, it’s fair to wonder: is this gonna be any good? Or are we just in Bronny James territory? (That’s LeBron’s kid, for the sports illiterate among you. And trust me, while the kid ain’t horrible, you don’t want to be in Bronny territory.)

Most of us can count on one hand the children of superstars in rock music whose creative output exceeds, matches, or even comes close to the quality of their predecessors. You may be a fan of Sean Lennon or Jakob Dylan (no judgment), but are they really in the same league as papas John and Bob? My own very short list of juniors who compare favorably with their seniors probably starts and stops with Townes Van Zandt and Jeff Buckley. Your list may have others, but I’m guessing it’s not a long list regardless.

On the other hand, unlike sports or acting, musicians have the option of emulating their parents by playing their elders’ music for adoring fans. Afrobeat pioneer Fela Kuti’s sons, Seun and Femi, both make pretty good records—but for a huge chunk of their audiences, the highlight of the Kuti offspring’s shows comes when they cover their father’s music. Likewise, although Grahame Lesh has a good thing going with his band Midnight North, it’s a good bet he probably draws more people when he appears on a bill marked as a tribute to his father Phil and/or the Grateful Dead. Again, no judgment. I’m just sayin’.

In that vein, a big nod goes to Devon Allman and Duane Betts, the sons of Allman Brothers frontmen Gregg and Dickey, respectively. My first experience with these scions was at an appearance by The Allman Betts Band at a music festival this summer. I was appropriately dubious of both their originals and their cover band chops until I heard their versions of Allman Brothers classics like “Dreams” and “Midnight Rider,” mixed in with some pretty cool originals. Their sound and skill were consistent with the Allman Brothers’ oeuvre. Not too shabby. To be clear though, it was the covers I liked best.

Watching them, it doesn’t hurt that the junior Allman and Betts share their dads’ genetic exteriors. Betts, in particular, has features that emulate his famous father. Better still, Devon and Duane’s voices have tone and timbre similar to Gregg and Dickey, and their guitar shredding and (for Devon) organ skills would make their papas and Uncle Duane proud. I’m still going to vote for Derek Trucks as the top of a very impressive heap in this generation of Allman Bros. spinoffs—but he actually played in the Allman Brothers, so maybe he doesn’t count. I suppose that bumps D & D up to the pinnacle.

That legacy was the background for the sold-out show at San Francisco’s Fillmore Auditorium on Saturday night. This was the last stop on the well-named Allman Betts Family Revival tour, a tribute (some might say “cover show”) honoring the Rock and Roll Hall of Famers who preceded and begat the two men front and center. For two sets, The Allman Betts Band played Allman Brothers originals and a number of classic blues songs that were also part of the elders’ standard repertoire during the so-called “Duane Era,” before the untimely death of Gregg’s brother and founding slide guitar player.

Devon and Duane were joined by several blues and blues-friendly guest stars throughout the evening. Jackie Greene, pedal steel maestro Robert Randolph, and ukulele phenom Jake Shimabukuro were perhaps the most well-known. Other guests included singers Sierra Green, Lindsay Lou, Lamar Williams Jr., and Erika Orbison. Bluesman Larry McCray also sang a few songs and threw down some guitar leads. Jimmy Leslie joined in on some of the guitar jams. Jimmy Hall, lead singer of Allman Brothers contemporaries Wet Willie and frontman of the offshoot group Betts, Hall, Leavell, and Trucks, sang and played harmonica.

North Mississippi Allstars drummer Cody Dickinson sat in on one of two kits for most of the evening. (Earlier on the tour, Cody’s brother Luther, Anders Osborn, Sierra Hull, and others made appearances.) The rest of the house band, so to speak, was The Allman Betts Band ensemble: Johnny Stachela on lead and rhythm guitar, Justin Corgan on bass, John Ginty on keys, John Lum on the other drum kit, and David Gomez on congas and percussion.

Two young guitarists of note got some time in the limelight. Keep your eye out for blues whiz kid Grace Bowers, an 18-year-old who is turning heads with her Bay Area band, The Hodge Podge. Bella Rayne, who has guested onstage with too many local jam bands to count in NorCal this year, is even younger, but with a future just as bright as Bowers. The blues ain’t goin’ away anytime soon, not with chops like the audience heard Saturday night coming from these up-and-comers.

Keeping with the theme of the front runners, many of these guests likewise tout famous forbearers. Drummer Cody Dickinson’s father Jim was a celebrated producer and recording artist. Erika Orbison’s husband Alex, the usual drummer for The Allman Betts Band (he made an appearance as well on Saturday), is Roy Orbison’s son. Lamar Williams Jr. is the son of Lamar Williams, bassist for The Allman Brothers Band in the mid-70s. (Original Allman bass player Berry Oakley’s son was with the Allman Betts Band when I saw them this summer. Rumor has it his departure was fraught, but I’ll let you Google that dirt—it’s not mine to spread.)

At the beginning and end of the show, as the band took and later left the stage, the house PA played Duane Allman’s acoustic solo track “Little Martha.” That set the tone for the evening, to the point where at least one online version of the setlist reported for the night included the song. The Brotherhood of Light contributed a psychedelic visual feast on a screen behind the band throughout the show—Harleys, mushrooms, sunflowers, fractals, that sort of thing. Trippy stuff. Really well done, actually.

By the way, I don’t think I saw a single electric guitar all night that wasn’t a Gibson.

The setlist (see below) tells more of the story. The magic of the evening was, for many, the masterful instrumental soloing. Devon, Duane, and Johnny Stachela can hold their own playing the classic catalog of Allman Brothers hits, no doubt. Top of the list for your humble reviewer, however, were turns by Randolph, Shimabukuro, and Bowers. Your own results may vary.

Despite running up against the hall curfew, the band and all their guests returned for an encore. After a quick version of “Midnight Rider,” the adoring crowd exited the hall to receive their complimentary Fillmore poster.

SETLIST
(Partial guest list, there were others too.)

Set 1:
Don't Want You No More
It's Not My Cross to Bear
Statesboro Blues (with Jimmy Hall)
Trouble No More (with Lamar Williams Jr. and Robert Randolph)
Blue Sky
Please Call Home (with Sierra Greene and Robert Randolph)
Stormy Monday (with Larry McCray)
Melissa (with Jackie Greene)
Southbound (with Lindsay Lou and Grace Bowers)
Dreams (with Jake Shimabukuro and Robert Randolph)
Jessica

Set 2:
Nobody Knows
Soulshine (with Larry McCray and Grace Bowers)
One Way Out (with Jimmy Hall, Jackie Greene, and Grace Bowers)
No One Left to Run With (with Erika Orbison)
Stormy Monday (with Larry McCray)
Ramblin' Man (with Jackie Greene, Lindsay Lou, and Erika Orbison)
Whipping Post (with Jimmy Hall and Grace Bowers)

Encore:
Midnight Rider (with all guests)

It’s been said that all the years combine and melt into a dream. This can be true for any entity as it passes into history, and no doubt it applies in particular to the Grateful Dead. The story of this beloved band has been chronicled in numerous books by band members, insiders and close friends, and music journalists. After a while, it all rolls into one.

So yes, the Grateful Dead has its own oft-told, multi-perspective biography that in sum could be taken to define the band. But far too little has been written about the Deadheads. Of course, there are a lot more of “us” (Deadheads) than there are of “them” (members of the Grateful Dead and their immediate circle). Each of us has our own story; how we got into the Dead, our first show, tales from a month or several years spent following them on tour. So many stories to tell, so many roads traveled.

Like the proverbial blind men touching different parts of the elephant, we all got to experience the Grateful Dead in our own unique way. We all melted into our own dream.

For an intimate, worthwhile, “you-are-there” perspective from a Deadhead who lived “on tour,” check out Hollie A. Rose’s “When Push Comes to Shove; Real Life on Dead Tour” (self-published; available on Amazon). This isn’t a memoir or a history per se. In “When Push Comes to Shove,” Rose, a lifelong diarist, has compiled her journal entries encompassing a period from the summer of 1988 through summer 1992, during which she followed the Dead to nearly every show and lived with fellow Deadheads between tours.

“Picture Grateful Dead Tour. Some folks come and visit, we call them tourists. Others of us find our way to living here full time. We stay. And there forms a hardcore group. Not only are we ‘on tour’ together, we hang together off-tour too. We are family. Some tour for only a season or two. Of course they alter our chemical makeup while they’re here. Everyone who is on tour alters us, changes us as a whole.”

When the Grateful Dead woke up in their hotel rooms, Rose was already hard at work selling postcards (and other things) in the parking lot. When the band hit the stage, Rose was in the hallways, or still outside trying to score a ticket. When Jerry Garcia flew home, Rose and her friends were in the van on the I-70 watching out for cops, or sleeping on the floor of someone else’s hotel room in Philadelphia. When there was no tour, there were plans discussed for the future while living in the “now” of finding a place to crash, some food to eat, some pot to smoke. It wasn’t always easy. But it was often fun, and always real.

Rose’s book reads like a diary because it is one, warts and misspellings and weird punctuation and all. It’s gritty, honest, and introspective. And it’s nothing but the truth, written as she experienced it (often during the very moment “it” was happening). Only the names of her companions and other Deadheads were changed, to protect both the innocent and the guilty. (Disclosure: Rose and I are lifelong friends, and we traveled together on tour during the mid-80s. If she ever publishes a book covering, say, 1985-1987, I’ll probably cringe reading about my younger self. As it is, I’m only in this book a few times, mostly on the periphery. Bonus point for you, Dear Reader, if you discover my alias in the book.)

“As I drove today I gave thanks for some of my favorite things – One is that I love being in the hallway, with the smell of Indica blanketing us, dancing, and seeing all the faces of people I love, as they dance. Sad that each time more faces are missing.”

There’s a well-defined story arc in this slice-of-life adventure. The time frame encompasses some of the federal “War on Drugs,” during which the Grateful Dead parking lot scene was a specific, ongoing target for the Drug Enforcement Agency, as well as state and local police across the U.S. Rose’s circle of friends and acquaintances included a lot of people who were doing various drugs, a large number of them selling drugs – mostly pot and psychedelics – and a tragic few of them succumbing to the worst outcomes associated with those and other drugs, including jail, addiction, and death. The story arc in “When Push Comes to Shove” is wrapped around that environment with elements of hope, allegiance, and camaraderie shadowed by heartbreak and betrayal.

Good times were had, the music was brilliant, the experiences were quite frequently fun and adventurous and funny and serendipitous. But the price for some of the people in Rose’s orbit was dear.

“Bad news between Cincinnati and here. Someone stole the bail $ for Diggety that Kimmy had collected. Also Dragon Dave is still in Jail in North Carolina, and Jean Claude went down in Cincinnati. We are people just trying to live peacefully, be good, and believe, and we get persecuted for drugs. It’s ridiculous. Some people learn a lot from drugs, and use, not abuse, them.”

Granted, this is not the story of nearly every Deadhead, or even every so-called Tourhead. It might trigger memories for people who spent years following the band in broken-down VW buses selling grilled cheese sandwiches in the parking lot. It might just as well answer some questions for people who caught a few shows from time to time – who are those people I always saw in that big fatty circle in the hallway, and how do they all know each other? How do they, you know, live?

There are two ways to read “When Push Comes to Shove.” Start-to-finish is always a viable option. From Rose’s introduction to her indispensable glossary of tour lot lingo at the end, it’s a wild ride. But interspersed between the adventurous stuff there’s a lot of the day-to-day grind; chores (mostly related to eking out a living or just trying to get a bite to eat), long drives, yet another motel room or hearing about someone else getting busted. It’s also a challenge at times to keep track of the “cast of characters,” given that there are scores of people who intersected with Rose across the years covered. Given that, some readers might want to take a different approach – pick a random page, read a few “days,” jump in and out of Rose’s life as you see fit. That’s fine too. You don’t need to “be Hollie” to “see Hollie.”

Sample glossary term: “Cake – often means money or cash, but occasionally it means a baked treat (baked like in the oven, not baked like getting stoned).”

If you were a Deadhead during the late 80s and early 90s, and especially if you were “on tour” during any of that time, “When Push Comes to Shove” likely will resonate with you, jog your memory, bring you back to those mostly good and possibly (though hopefully not) bad times. And perhaps if you weren’t there, “Push” will illuminate an era of Grateful Dead history from a perspective you hadn’t considered. The Grateful Dead were nothing without the Deadheads. Deadheads mattered.

I recently discussed Rose’s book with Rose over email, followed up by a long conversation. Here are some excerpts from our dialogue.

Gabriel David Barkin (GDB) You've been a diarist nearly your whole life, and I know you have journals that, altogether, cover decades. What is it about this period covered in “When Push Comes to Shove” (the late 80s through the early 90s) that made you want to create a book? What is so special or distinctive about that time period?

Hollie Rose (HR) I started my touring with the Dead in 1983. It took me a long time to zero in on a story that was in some way transformative for me, because let’s face it, any time spent with the Grateful Dead was usually transformative. As I whittled down my voluminous stream of consciousness journals – a process of removing all the bits that weren’t all that important – I saw that this time period of the journals is where my writing style changed somewhat. At some point in 1988 I crossed a threshold of “writing my life” as I had always done and moved on to “writing because something here was very important” and writing is how I understand myself.

GDB How long did it take you to make this book happen? What were the most challenging and rewarding aspects of that process?

HR I’ve always been fascinated by diaries and journals and personal life writing – the works themselves as well as the process of creating them. I spend a lot of time studying journals just because they interest me. Honestly, I always thought my own journals were shit compared to those I studied. I always knew I wanted to write a book about my time with the Dead someday, so when I wrote the journals, I thought that all I was doing was taking notes for the day I’d write that book.

In the summer of 2016, I was working on the transcription of my journals (a lifelong project for a lifetime of words) when I stumbled upon the awareness that these notebooks of mine showcased all that is wonderful about journal writing – the immediacy, the unpredictable nature of life, and the raw truth of a moment.

Then I thought – “Ha! This is the book right here! I’ve already written it!”

I thought – “This is going to be easy!”

Eight years later I finally was able to publish a book I could be proud of.

The most challenging part was to continue work on a massive project like this while life keeps on happening around you. The rewarding part – finding my own truth in the avalanche of words my stoned pen scribbled.

GDB Tell me about "journal" vs. "diary" vs. "memoir" vs. "history": How do you view your book? Where does it fit in?

HR The word “journal” comes from the same root word as the word “journey.” “Diary” comes from the same root word as “day.” So it’s kind of just a journey through the days. I find those two words mostly interchangeable.

I don’t call this a “memoir” because a memoir is a story told about a transformative time of one’s life, usually with poetic license used to recreate scenes and events, this book is not quite that.

Now, “history” – that’s an interesting question here. Some early readers [of “When Push Comes to Shove”] told me it was the 80s version of “The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test,” a history of the scene, and that I was doing a great disservice to use fake names. They said that Tom Wolfe used real names, and I should too. When I suggested it was a history to a knowledgeable book person, I was told, “It’s not a history, however, unless you’ve done historical research, you use other backing primary sources, and you contextualize the work.” (Basically, an attitude that I ought not to think of my work as anything as lofty or as important as history.)

[But] I’ve read enough diaries – from Anne Frank and Samuel Pepys, through the hundreds of diaries left behind by the westward expansion wagon trains, or people involved in wars both on the battleground and the home front – to know that any diary is a history. Go ahead and tell me Anne Frank’s adolescent diary isn’t history. I dare you.

GDB A lot of the book is fun and exciting, but a lot of it is also dark. There are many references to self-abuse and addiction. There are challenges of poverty related to lack of food and shelter. There is a code of ethics in play throughout the book that may affront some people's sensibilities given its disregard for the law (particularly regarding illegal drug sales) and "rules." (How many people CAN you cram into a hotel room?! How many people can get into a show via a door pop?) There is a significant element of betrayal of decisions made in one's own interest at the expense of those considered "family."

Can readers be forgiven if their takeaway from the book is that Dead Tour, at least during the era covered, was a pit of depravity and poverty, a cesspool of drugs and lawlessness? What about readers who conclude that the Feds and police targeting Deadheads were doing society a favor?

HR Well, there is that, isn’t there?

I have joked (but I do not do so lightly) there are some people who may read this and decide that “I” am what ruined the Dead scene. I showed up without a ticket. I took advantage of an open door when I saw one. I sold things clandestinely – hiding my postcards under my sweater to avoid the confiscation police. I smoked pot.

I did a lot of the things I was told not to do. So be it. It was Bob Dylan who said, “To live outside the law you must be honest.”

None of what any of us did was morally objectionable.

As far as selling drugs was concerned: no one in this book was ever what society would call a “pusher.” They used to use that term, remember? As if someone was going to try to force upon you the party favors they were selling. That’s just another way society has warped the truth of a thing. It never happened like that. In fact, I argue that it was absolutely not pushed on anyone. Drugs and the taking of drugs was never a requirement.

he 80s were no different than the 60s in that way. Expanding one’s consciousness is admirable for the sake of all humanity. (Yeah, now I sound like a fucking hippie, but whatever.) People should have that choice, and I’m glad the US is teetering on the brink of all this stuff being legal.

As far as self-abuse – people make their own decisions, and I never saw anyone walking through the lot flogging themselves with a horsehair whip.

And yes, there is indeed darkness here. There would have to be darkness near any light as powerful as the Grateful Dead. Like I wrote on the back of my book cover: “The closer you get to the light, the larger your shadow becomes.”

GDB Conversely, it's my experience that most of the people I hung out with most regularly on tour went on to do things like get college degrees, start businesses, turn their craftwork into profitable income streams, etc. Was there something inherent in the experience of touring – spending time in parking lots, on the road, in shows, etc. – that enabled people to "find themselves" in a way that was beneficial rather than self-destructive? What were the emotional/spiritual/economic growth opportunities for young people who left their parents and hometown behind to go on tour?

HR On Facebook occasionally I see a meme that says something like, “Lifehack – leave your hometown in your 20s.” And I always think – “Hell yeah, go anywhere!”

I don’t think it was so much about “finding ourselves” after tour. I think we’d found ourselves on tour. But it was about having learned and embodied a sense of freedom, an awareness of the limitless nature of existence, the wide expanses of the world, and at least some small hint of our own power. Especially when we first left tour. We were invincible. Some people kind of forgot that as the years wore on.

And while you’re right – the majority of the people I knew on tour went on to become quite successful – some people never got the hang of that freedom bit. Some people spiraled into oblivion never to return. Tour populations were a lot like the real world; there are winners and losers, and lazy folks and driven ones. We thought we were special but we’re just like everyone else.

GDB Thinking about the last two questions, the "bad" stuff and the "good" stuff: was there something inherent in the Tourhead / Grateful Dead music experience that was likely to lead people down either paths of downward or upward spiral? Can you discern any reason why some people ended up in jail for years, or committing acts of betrayal, or winding up dead, while others expanded their opportunities to lead productive, happy lives? In other words, was there something unique about tour, or was it just another microcosm no more or less likely to lead to success or despair than any other social/economic milieu?

HR Your questions here echo what I was talking about above. Look at any high school, and even most colleges, and ask, “Why did some go to jail, some wind up dead, some capitalize on opportunities?” Because that’s how humans move through the world – doing good shit, doing questionable shit, doing dumb shit, getting lucky or feeling targeted by the whole world and adopting a victim stance.

I will say this: tour taught us mad survival skills, and maybe there is a higher tendency towards success because Tourheads were never afraid to game the system.

Some trees will stop growing if you wrap a chain around them and some will swallow that chain like it was never there. Who can say why?

FOR MORE INFORMATION Rose has a website where you can learn more about her book and order copies. Please visit https://flamingohippie.com/

In addition to learning about “When Push Comes to Shove,” visitors can explore and contribute in many ways. Rose has pages dedicated to the following:

• Books by other Deadhead authors
• The War on Drugs: Visitors are invited to contribute – “Did the War on Drugs impact your life? Your story matters!
• A photo gallery inviting all Deadheads to upload “images of your tour crew.”

MJ Lenderman’s Manning Fireworks was a standout album in 2024, a masterpiece of indie lo-fi songcraft. Just two years earlier, Boat Songs had likewise wowed critics and attracted fans who appreciated the Asheville, NC, native’s talky singing style and curiously stylistic lyrics. Who knew the guy could jam too?!

Lenderman’s nearly two-hour set at San Francisco’s Independent on Monday night, accompanied by his touring band The Wind, was a masterclass of sonic transcendence. The Americana rock of Lenderman’s recordings was augmented all night long with infusions of slow- burn solos and melodic feedback. The band was having so much fun stretching out that they couldn’t even get through all their planned setlist before hitting the house curfew.

That “slow burn” was accentuated by a stick of sandalwood incense burning on top of one of the amps all night. Like the smoke curling upward from the stage, Lenderman and The Wind took their time floating and twisting in the ether of Lenderman’s catalog.

It’s easy to trace a through line from Neil Young’s live performances with Crazy Horse through Sonic Youth and My Morning Jacket to get to MJ Lenderman. From the opening chords of the instrumental “Ghost of Your Guitar Solo” through the set-closing one-two punch of “Bark at the Moon” into “No Mercey,” Lenderman and The Wind enraptured the sold-out crowd. (And yes, Lenderman confirmed on stage that “Bark at the Moon” is a tribute to Ozzy Osbourne's classic 1983 album.)

The evening treated the crowd to every song from Manning Fireworks, more than half of Boat Songs, and a smattering of other songs from Lenderman’s numerous releases going back as far as 2019’s Lucky, a three-song collection.

Lyrically, Lenderman’s songs are often wry. Try this one: “I guess I'll call you Rip Torn, the way you got tore up.” Occasionally, he tosses in religious humor, touching perhaps on his Catholic upbringing. In “Priest,” for example, he sings, “Used to believe I wanted to be a catholic priest…The house would come furnished, yeah, I'd have it made.”

Lenderman did not play one of my personal favorites on Monday, “Tastes Just Like It Costs.” But he did include my other fave song in the set, “Wristwatch”:

So you say I've got a funny face
It makes me money
So you say I've wasted my life away
Well, I got a beach home up in Buffalo
And a wristwatch that's
A compass and a cell phone
And a wristwatch that
Tells me you're all alone

The Wind is comprised of Jon Samuels on guitar; Xandy Chelmis on pedal steel guitar and fiddle; Ethan Baechtold on keyboards and percussion; Colin Miller on drums; and Landon George on bass. (Chelmis and Baechtold are also members of Lenderman’s other band, Wednesday.) Chelmis’s textures on pedal steel were particularly tasty, often laced with increasing layers of fuzz tones and distortion. Samuels, sharing rhythm and lead guitar duties with Lenderman, was as fun to watch as he was to hear. His high-energy stage presence provided a counterbalance to Lenderman’s laissez-faire frontman stature.

The Independent gig was the first of two back-to-back sellouts, and it also marks Lenderman’s first headline performance in San Francisco. No doubt, he’ll play in a larger venue next time around. Word is gonna spread about these shows for sure.

Opening band Wild Pink dimmed the house lights to walk on stage during Eminem’s “Lose Yourself.” Like MJ Lenderman and The Wind, the NYC quartet plays lo-fi Americana rock. Hints of 1970s mellowness blended with some essence of grunge. (Maybe a taste of Pavement?). No pyrotechnics, just four guys making some cool garage band music.

Wild Pink did what an opening band is supposed to do. They got the audience’s attention, probably inspired a few folks to check them out on Spotify and set the stage for the headliner to knock some socks off.

MJ LENDERMAN
SET LIST
Ghost of Your Guitar Solo
Manning Fireworks
Joker Lips
Wristwatch
On My Knees
SUV
Catholic Priest
Rudolph
Toontown
Six Flags
Rip Torn
You Have Bought Yourself a Boat
TLC Cage Match
Pianos
She's Leaving You
You Don't Know the Shape I'm In
Bark at the Moon >
No Mercy

Encore:
Knockin'

Len Dell'Amico has a shelf full of books about Jerry Garcia and Grateful Dead, but he hasn’t read many of them. On the other hand, he has written one himself that is well worth reading. Friend of the Devil: My Wild Ride with Jerry Garcia and Grateful Dead (Weldon Owen) is now available via the usual online booksellers – and perhaps you’ll see it at your local bookstore too.

As the Dead’s "video and film guy" from 1980 until Garcia's death in 1995, Dell'Amico was deeply involved with the band on both a professional and personal basis. (Dell’Amico prefers Garcia’s description of him as a "video and film guy" over labels like “producer” or “director.”) During that time, he became a close friend and confidante of Garcia. His memoir is filled with stories and recollections that are at times humorous, often insightful, and frequently intimate.

Friend of the Devil is a must-read for any Jerry Garcia fan interested in the myth as well as the man. Dell’Amico declares on the first page that, “This book is not an attempt at a history or a biography of Jerry Garcia or Grateful Dead.” A reader might debate this claim. Certainly, there is a historical narrative in Friend of the Devil regarding the author’s experience with the Dead as a videographer, producer, director, and creative associate for fifteen years.

During this time, Grateful Dead, with Dell’Amico as an innovative technical partner, were pioneers of livestream events (both in-theater and at-home) and arena concert video accompaniment. Dell’Amico also worked with the band to produce MTV videos for “Hell in a Bucket” and “Throwing Stones.” He worked with Garcia to direct “So Far,” a best-selling video that melded footage of live stage performances (both with and without audiences) with animated sequences. Friend of the Devil describes these ventures in detail, with behind-the-scenes vignettes as well as a practical assessment of the prescience that drove Garcia and his bandmates to the vanguard of 1980s video representation.

So that’s the history stuff. On the other hand, when it comes to his relationship with Garcia, Dell’Amico is correct to say Friend of the Devil is not a biography per se. Still, the author’s involvement with Garcia, both as a workmate and as a friend for well over a decade, provides ample fodder for a “slice of life” representation of a man who, for many people, was and remains revered with godlike adoration. (Facebook meme I saw recently: “I’m so tired of all these people comparing Jerry Garcia to God. I mean, he was talented and creative and all that – but he’s no Jerry Garcia.”)

Clearly, in Dell’Amico’s eyes, Garcia was, at the very least, uncomfortable with that adoration: “He was what I would call the opposite of a narcissist. He actually worked hard to remain humble, and actively resisted every opportunity to acknowledge how great he was, and also, by the way, how wise and lovable he was.”

One notable segment in the book that underscores this assessment recounts the time when Dell’Amico held Garcia’s Doug Irwin guitar “Tiger” for a moment. He remarked to Garcia that it was a really heavy instrument. Garcia chuckled and said, “Yeah, it’s heavy, you bet, and I gotta stand there for three hours holding it at every show. It may look like magic to the crowd, but a big part of it is just plain, sweaty, hard work.”

Despite bringing Garcia down to earth with stories like that, and in addition to being close friends, Dell’Amico remains a diehard fan too. “I think he is best understood, and revered, as a great musician and songwriter, yes, but also as a spiritual leader, showing us the way to a better world.”

Friend of the Devil is full of great anecdotes that show both sides of Garcia, the myth and the man. And it’s not only about Garcia – there are funny and poignant stories about other members of the band too, and about lyricist Robert Hunter, and about Deadheads and members of the Dead’s crew. There’s also just enough autobiographical stuff about Dell’Amico to give the reader a sense of Who is this guy?! (Along with hundreds of other artists, Dell’Amico also produced concert films and music videos with artists such as Sarah Vaughan, Herbie Hancock, the Allman Brothers Band, and Bonnie Raitt.)

One of my favorite bits includes the sentence, “Then Bobby says, ‘A duck.’” I’ll say no more about that. Read the book to find out: What the duck?!

Dell’Amico lives in Fairfax, California, which happens to be just a few miles from my home. He came over one afternoon in December for what I thought would be a 45-minute interview about the book. We ended up chatting about the book and his experience working with the Dead and being a fan and friend of the band for three hours. Here are some excerpts from our meeting.

MY CONVERSATION WITH LEN DELL’AMICO

Gabriel David Barkin (GDB): Just to lay some common ground for our interview: I saw, as near as I can count, exactly 250 Grateful Dead shows, and all the post-Jerry permutations with Bob and Billy and Mickey, tons of Phil & Friends gigs, etc. I saw my first show when I was 17, in 1980, just after you first started working with Garcia and the Dead.

You and I spent a lot of time in the same world, and we've intersected in a lot of ways. I'm probably in some of your video footage – for instance, I followed that birthday cake to the stage on New Year’s Eve the year when you produced the livestream video, and I was front row at Telluride, which you also recorded. In your “So Far” video from New Year’s Eve 1985, my voice is somewhere in that roar of people in the crowd, because I was at that show.

But to be honest, I don’t think I saw your video of “Hell in a Bucket” until I was prepping for this interview. I think I would remember the duck if I had seen it.

Len Dell’Amico (LD’A): I thought of naming the book “Duck.”

GDB: That’s a great place to start. I want to talk about the title, Friend of the Devil. When people pick up your book, or see it for sale, they're going to see the title, Friend of the Devil. It's about Jerry, of course. And I think the natural assumption most people will have – and I had this assumption myself – is that you are “the friend” and Jerry is “the devil.” And you actually waited until the end of the book before you write about why you chose that title.

Was that kind of purposeful, putting that explanation at the end so people would read the whole book, kind of waiting for the shoe to drop about Jerry being a devil in your eyes when in fact he isn’t that at all?

LD’A: Right. The last chapter, I go over to his house, and he answers the door. He's got a cape. [Laughs.] And all of a sudden, the horns.

GDB: Exactly. Smoke coming out.

LD’A: And I can smell sulfur. Just kidding. Answering your question: No is the short answer. There was no guile to it. I was throwing out names and soliciting from people suggestions. And I threw that out because it's so easily remembered. My daughter flipped and said, That's it! I'm like, oh, she’s Gen Z, and I want Gen Z. The people who were involved in selling books thought it was fantastic. It's just instantaneous. Oh, Grateful Dead. Without having to say, “Grateful Dead.” Although that's in the subtitle.

But then, you know, What do you mean here, “Friend of the Devil”? The devil, quote unquote, in “Friend of the Devil” is a trickster. And the main character that Garcia sings the part of, the narrator of the song, accepts his kindness in “a cave up in the hills.” Which he later has to pay back. I think of Garcia himself as somewhat of a trickster, as were Kesey, Cassidy and the Grateful Dead phenomenon in general. And me as his friend.

GDB: You mention in the introduction that you have a whole shelf of books about the Dead that you haven't read. Maybe one of those is Rock Scully's book <>Living with the Dead? His book is kind of dark in parts – like Jerry being really high and flooding a hotel room; Jerry locking himself in an airplane bathroom for an entire flight to do his drugs. One of the things a reader might take away from Scully’s book is an impression of Jerry as a drug addict.

When I read your book and thought about Scully's book – it's about the same guy, but my impression of who that guy was is very different from each book. Do you think there were different Jerrys to different people? Like, was he a “drug addict” to some people in his life, but not to others?

LD’A: The theory has to fit all the facts. And it was hard to reconcile Jerry's. My gut when you ask that is that he was himself all the time.

I think the ultimate underlying cause of his substance problem was boredom. And I deduced this after seeing him in a lot of situations. As soon as something interesting happens, he loses interest in that other thing. So I thought, That's why I'm here. We're going to do some interesting shit. [When we were working on videos together] I tested it out a lot. He'd have his “works,” and he would go like this [Len mimes Jerry reaching for his “works”]. And then I'd say, “You know, we're talking about that scene with the car.” And it went for hours this way. I'm like, Well, couldn't be that strong urge if he can just put down the pipe.

He knew that people loved him. But you know, [Jerry’s attitude was] I'm gonna be me. In addition, there was no fear of death whatsoever. “You know, if you die, you won't see your children anymore.” “Yeah, I'm aware of that. What else can I say?” I mean he loved them, and he knew that they would be sad like all of us. But it’s like, Am I going to change my behavior because you'll be sad? No.

GDB: I don't want to dwell on his end, and we're going to back up to the beginning of your relationship with Jerry in a moment – but since you went there, I want to ask about his death. This was a guy who smoked a lot of cigarettes, who was overweight, who never did really much exercise.

LD’A: He had coronary heart disease his whole life. He didn't talk about it because he didn't complain ever about anything. Can you imagine that, a rock star not complaining?! You know, as opposed to, No red M&M's!

I learned a lot of things by writing this book because they're random memories that were written down at the time and then put away for 20 years – and then made sense of [when I put together the book]. He knew it was coming. I didn't know that he knew when we were together because I was probably in denial, which is a very powerful thing. But when I put the story together and then read it, I'm like, Oh…riiiiight.

[Shortly before Jerry died] he was talking about, “I went to visit Heather and Sarah, my first wife and first child.” I’m like, “Wow, how long has it been?” And he's like, “Forever.” That's the sort of thing people do when the end is nigh. And he could tell when he was smoking a cigarette that his cardio system wasn't working right.

GDB: Let's take it back now. It's 1980. Can you get into your mindset about what you thought about the Dead before you met them and were asked to work with them? Where were they in your world as far as your understanding or appreciation of their music, the scene, all that?

LD’A: I had filmed them many times but had never met them, because at the Capitol [Theater, in Passaic NJ], I was the house video person, or "vidiot," as we were called. And I was familiar with [the Dead’s] music. And I loved it. I had all their albums. But they weren't different, in my head, from the Beatles or the Stones.

I liked their music live. But – long shows, and you're working, and there was an opening act. It could be grueling because it’s live. You can't go, I'm gonna take a break. Lynyrd Skynyrd was the perfect act. They played 55 minutes. They did not stop. Whereas the Dead would stop, tune up for five minutes. That's their ethos. It's like, We're here to play, and you kids talk to each other for a while, you know?

But I did not meet them personally until 1980.

GDB: You started working with the Dead in late 1980. MTV launched in 1981, so the video era was moving past its dawn into full daylight. Some bands had recorded videos prior to that, and shows like SNL, Don Kirshner’s Rock Concert, and The Midnight Special in the 1970s gave audiences a chance to see their favorite bands on TV. Of course, prior to that there were appearances on Ed Sullivan, and movies like A Hard Day’s Night and all that Elvis stuff. And even The Grateful Dead Movie.

But then the Dead decide they want to do this livestream thing in all these movie theaters, something nobody’s done before. They hire you for the 1980 Halloween livestream from Radio City. And then later, you provided live video accompaniment for stadium shows. So, the Dead were, to some extent, in the vanguard of providing their fans with concert video experiences, both in-house and remotely.

Why was video livestreaming, and later on the in-concert reinforcement, a really good fit for the Dead? First, there’s the aspect of why the band was interested in it, what was their motivation?

LD’A: Number one, they were born by psychedelia.

GDB: Sure, if you go back to the early years, Grateful Dead were the house band for Kesey’s Acid Tests. And it wasn't about going to hear Grateful Dead music. It was about having an all-encompassing experience with all sorts of auditory and visual and other sensory exposure. It’s in their DNA. So doing a livestream broadcast of the 1980 Halloween show, and the live video reinforcement (like you did for their stadium tours starting in 1987) – all of that is, in a way, getting “outside the box” of what a concert experience was thought to be.

LD’A: Yes, and when this technology came along for stadiums, they literally said to me, “We want you to make it more like the Acid Tests. Something to look at that isn't us, you know?” And the video is meant to reach people who are literally a third of a mile away. People would give me shit about, This is about music, why do we have to have video? I'm like, Have you been to a stadium show?!

The other thing was that Garcia was as interested in film when he was young as he was in music and art. That's why the band is in the movie Petulia and why Garcia wanted to do the soundtrack to Antonioni's Zabriskie Point. Jerry wanted to be in movies, behind the camera and in front. He used being in a band to make movies. Can we sell some videos? Yeah, let's do that.

GDB: You write about how he never skimped on quality when it came to the projects you were involved in. Like the video equipment for live show projection.

LD’A: He says, “Is this the highest quality video we can get?” And I'm like, “No, this is reinforcement. Why would you want better than that?” He says, “We want the best. We always want the best of everything. Do you understand?” I didn't have the guts to say I didn’t quite understand why. I know now, because all these shows were sold later on, after he died. The band subsisted on them! They made millions from each different DVD. We put out about ten of them.

GDB: What was it like planning for those live stadium shows with on-screen projection shows? What did the band want from you?

LD’A: They would say, “Yeah, we don't want to be the center of attention because we don't do anything. We want to entertain the crowd. What can you do?” And I'm like, “Sure, we could do all kinds of effects.” Then I heard from people who believe that the Dead are just music, they weren’t happy when video reinforcement came to the Dead, so they said we can't have pictures. But it was Garcia who was in charge, the band put him in charge of visuals. He would say, “I'll cover this. I know about movies, and Len, you'll answer to me. I'll take care of these guys.”

It got expensive, and my job as a producer and director is to minimize my client’s expense. So I'd have to remind them: “This is going to cost you a shitload, and I don't see how you're going to get that money back.” They're like, “Len, it's not your problem.”

GDB: So you're off the hook, and you get to spend the money.

LD’A: Right. And also, the effects evolved rapidly between ‘87 and ‘91. So each year it got more “out there.”

GDB: Let’s talk about your friendship with Garcia. You wrote in the book about a couple of “fanboy” moments that were embarrassing to you, like when you got to hold one of Jerry’s guitars. You didn’t want Jerry to think you were just another Deadhead hanger-on, and it doesn’t seem like that was the case. But was there always a little bit of rock-star-and-employee energy in the air? How did that evolve?

LD’A: He was an anti-rock-star, and he meant it to the core. I never saw him hesitate from that stance. He did any interview, he would talk to anybody. He insisted on being who he was. [Being considered a rock star] was painful for him, and painful to witness. I would get nowhere if I didn't be me and let him be him.

Jerry was a shaman, let's face it. Keith Richards is a shaman. These people are summoning the gods and the beasts, and you're getting fucking high on it. And it's fantastic. But they’re just people. And [Garcia] was aware of that. He has five daughters. I got to the very end of the book before I said the quote about, “If you think I'm God, you should talk to my children.”

[One time] I visited him when he was practicing. I was like, Whoa! I looked at the sheets in front of him and I said, “32nd notes?!” He goes, “Yeah.” And I'm like, “How much do you do this?” And he's like, “Every day.” Then he said, “You think it's easy what I do? I got to do this, or I get out of shape.”

GDB: I liked reading about you, Jerry, and hotel operator Bill Kimpton, in Jerry’s last year or so, having serious discussions about opening a small venue in San Francisco called Café Garcia. The idea was, among other things, that Jerry could play intimate sets anytime he wanted without being tied to tour dates, set times, etc. He could just drop in and be Jerry the guitar player, not Jerry the rock star. A lot of the vision you describe in the book has similarities to what Phil intended with Terrapin Crossroads [TXR]. Did you ever go to TXR? How would you compare TXR with what you thought Cafe Garcia was destined to be?

LD’A: Jerry’s idea was much smaller. He said, “I'd like a place like places I played when I was a kid. A coffee house. No booze. Just coffee and wine and open mic. And we'll call it Cafe Garcia.” Perfect. “Yeah, I could just hop in the car and drive to my place and play whenever I felt like it. All I need is my guitar.” The capacity would probably have been a couple of hundred people.

Café Garcia wasn't designed to make money, as nothing Jerry did was. It was designed for him to have fun. And when you're having fun, you just generate a shitload of money – if you're Jerry Garcia. He once said, “I'm gonna actually just put out a tape of me farting. I could sell a hundred thousand.”

GDB: Can you imagine if he did that? There would be cover bands now doing Jerry’s farts. What's your take on this whole phenomenon that really, in many ways, exceeds the legacy of possibly any other band? I'm sure there's no band in history that has had as many cover bands. Places like the Greek Theater in Berkeley and the Capital Theater in New York sell out shows with a note-for-note gig like Dark Star Orchestra, and also for a complete reinterpretation band like Joe Russo’s Almost Dead. Not to mention all these incarnations of bands with the members of the Dead post-Jerry, both together and separately. Phil [Lesh] has probably played in 250 or way more unique lineups with Phil & Friends and all those TXR shows. And then there’s the Dead & Co. Sphere residency.

I also think it’s a certainty that more lifelong marriages and partnerships sprung from the world of Grateful Dead than any band in history. [As it turns out, Len and I both met our wives at Dead shows.] How is it that it outlived Jerry, who was clearly the focal point?

LD’A: Seeing Dead & Co. at the Sphere, I was crying. I just couldn't believe it. It was just overwhelming. It's so beautiful. I started my professional career with black and white, one camera. And to see the apotheosis of video at the Sphere is just – there's no more. You don't show the band anymore. The technology itself now offers such amazing beauty.

[But] they'll come back when Bobby's gone too. It's the songs. It's spirituality that people feel together at these events, and it doesn't matter who's playing them, as long as they do a good job.

Why do people love this guy? I don't know if I succeeded at all in explaining why. But I did my best, I think. But the argument of who was he really? Now we're in “Citizen Kane” territory. Different sides to the same story. All true to the storytellers, but irreconcilable to people who hear the different versions.

I go back to the intellect, the mind. Somebody who's that wise and that learned and articulate is going to be seen by different people in different lights, and that's just fine. If somebody says, I was there when that happened, Len, and you got it wrong. I'm like, fine, write a book about it.

Bay Area jam band stalwarts ALO finished their “Tour D’Amour” this week with shows in San Francisco, Portland, and Seattle. This was the 18th annual west coast Tour D’Amour – and as usual, the quartet shared oodles of love with their devoted fans, known as the “Shapeshifters.”

That love is palpable. It starts on stage and radiates out to the audience. Founding members Dan “Lebo” Lebowitz (guitar and vocals), Zach Gill (keyboards, accordion, ukulele, and vocals), and Steve Adams (bass, vocals) began their lifelong friendship in elementary school. They formed their first band in junior high and then launched Animal Liberation Orchestra as college kids attending UC Santa Barbara. That lifelong bond, now decades in the forging, casts a wide shadow, enveloping a legion of diehard fans who call themselves Shapeshifters (named for one of the band’s early songs).

Nowadays, Animal Liberation Orchestra is known by most fans simply as ALO. The band’s website (www.alomusic.com) says the original, unabbreviated name is an “a.k.a.” moniker. Wikipedia says the same, and if you search for the full name on Spotify, it pops up as “ALO.” Call them what you will; the result is fun, funky, and free-flowing jam band heaven.

ALO is all about sharing and caring. All four members contribute songs for every album. Frames, which drops in April, features at least two songs from each member. Even so, it’s a team effort. Lebo described the creative process in a recent conversation: “We're really open to the idea of … collaborating on our ideas. That's kind of the unspoken rule. You throw out an idea and it doesn't stick and you're like, okay, cool. Or someone else throws out an idea.”

That collaboration extends to ALO’s live shows. The four musicians rotate turns as “set list captain” for each live show. Everybody gets solos; everybody takes a turn on the mic thanking the audience and praising – and often teasing – each other.

Drummer Ezra Lipp (who also contributes vocals) has been part of the ALO lovefest since 2018. His creativity and musicality mesh lovingly in the quartet’s milieu. For instance, there’s Lipp’s “You May Not Get It All,” a new tune that appeared in at least a few set lists on the current tour. The refrain, which follows the title lyric in the chorus with “But that’s all right,” fits right in with ALO’s we-love-you-no-matter-what aesthetic.

ALO is also all about fun. Gill has his toys, including a red laser beam on the end of his uke, a psychedelic electric light whip, and the toy bullhorn he uses for vocal effects on “Cowboys and Chorus Girls.” (Any of these may or may not make an appearance on any given night.) A confetti bomb often drenches the fans with color. The lyrics are often silly.

More fun: Lebo, who is all smiles (except when he’s shredding, which is often), has a script “L” drawn on his acoustic guitars. Maybe not all of the Shapeshifters are old enough to associate that “L” with the “L” sewn onto every article of clothing ever worn by “Laverne” on the classic 70s sitcom “Laverne and Shirley.” So, if you didn’t know that before, you know it now.

A fixture of almost every ALO show is the “Lebo Leap,” a set-ending aerial vault that every photographer on the scene wants to capture. (As a photog, I still have not captured my perfect “Lebo Leap” shot – call it a bucket list item.) At that Fillmore show, the showman defied gravity with a “Lebo Leap” at the crescendo of “Lady Loop.”

Throughout the nine-city Tour D’Amour, which was wrapped on either side of a Jam Cruise jaunt by the band in mid-February, ALO played at least 50 different original songs. The tour catalog included songs from every ALO album, including premieres of most of the tracks that will be included on Frames.

A personal favorite among those newbies is Adams’ “Separated, Come Together,” which ALO played at the Fillmore show. Speaking recently about one particular aspect of his song, Adams says that the guys in ALO, “All have separate lives and separate paths – but when we come together … we get on the same page and figure out what it means to be a band. You become a single entity from these four parts.”

It’s easy to extend that analogy to the entire auditorium. The Bay Area Shapeshifters in particular may not spend all their day-to-day time together, but at the Fillmore, at least 25 of the rail riders are the same folks who can be found in the front row at any ALO show within 100 miles of San Francisco. We might live separated, but we all come together.

“Separated” is a lively rocker with room to stretch, and it’s easy to see ALO adding a bigger jam in the middle as they explore the edges. The same can be said of many of the new songs, almost none of which were tried out on stage before being recorded for the album. Talking about the new songs between shows early in the tour, Lipp said, “I’m hearing some of the things live that I think are right in the wheelhouse, and I’m hearing some things live that might go to a little bit of a new place.”

Another new tune is Lebo’s “Space Between Frames.” The lyrics on this song point to that very idea: “In the space between frames, that’s where we figure it out.” Like so many jam bands, ALO is comfortable playing with a new toy on stage, seeing what emerges over time. Lebo says, “New music always stretches us and pushes us a little different direction.” Shape shifting. That’s part of the ALO magic too.

A number of covers made the cut on Tour D’Amour. Among those, a nightly guest appearance mid-show by tour openers Glitterfox alternated between Alanis Morisette’s “You Oughta Know” and a Janis Joplin version of “Piece of My Heart.” The Fillmore audience in San Francisco got to hear both songs and gave an enthusiastic reception to Glitterfox’s Solange Igoa in response to her passionate vocals and rock star poses.

In Portland at The Get Down last Thursday, Gill returned the favor, adding accordion on Glitterfox’s “Xalbadorren Heriotzean,” a bouncy polka that evokes ABBA’s “Fernando.” But Glitterfox doesn’t need Gill to thrill. Igoa’s perfect pitch trills (a touch of Joan Baez, a hint of Melanie) are captivating, and the foursome’s songs are catchy. Portland was a hometown show for Glitterfox, and they had their own fans in the house alongside the Shapeshifters (and in at least a few cases, they were one and the same).

The pictures accompanying this article are from the San Francisco and Portland shows. Here are the ALO set lists from those two appearances:

THE FILLMORE, SAN FRANCISCO, February 22, 2025

SET ONE: 

Get To Do It Again
Blew Out the Walls
IV Song
Separated, Come Together
Rescue Our Demons
Bizarre Love Triangle
Growing Your Hands Back

SET TWO:

Blank Canvas
Space Between Frames
You Oughta Know (with Glitterfox)
Piece of My Heart (with Glitterfox)
Barbeque > Your Wildest Dreams > Barbeque
Not Old Yet
Cowboys and Chorus Girls
Room For Bloomin‘ > Tequila > Room For Bloomin’

ENCORE: 

Storms and Hurricanes
Rewind
Lady Loop

THE GET DOWN, PORTLAND OR, February 27, 2025

SET ONE:

Girl I Wanna Lay Your Down
Black Canvas
Plastic Bubble
Try
You May Not Get It All
Sugar On Your Tongue (With Matt Butler)
Country Electro
Piece Of My Heart (with Glitterfox)

SET TWO:

Intro/Tuning
Dead Still Dance
Space Between Frames
Waiting For Jaden
I Love Music (With Laz Blakeman)
Roses and Clovers (With Sean McClain)
Devine Fall
Walls of Jericho

ENCORE: 

Hot Damn

ALO, once and sometimes still known as Animal Liberation Orchestra, released their latest album Frames (Brushfire Records) today, April 4. The 10-song collection is either the sixth or the ninth album by the NorCal quartet, depending on whether one counts three late-90s records that can’t be found anywhere on the internet.

Frames is available now for purchase and streaming via all the usual avenues. CDs and a “liquid gold” vinyl edition can be ordered directly from ALO’s website (https://www.alomusic.com/).

ALO is Zach Gill (keyboards, accordion, ukulele, and vocals), Dan “Lebo” Lebowitz (guitar and vocals), Ezra Lipp (drums, vocals), and Steve Adams (bass, vocals). The foursome is known for exciting live performances that feature extended versions of their catchy jamband funk tunes.

In conversation a few weeks ago (near the beginning of ALO’s annual west coast “Tour D’Amour”), drummer Lipp said, “I'm still wrapping my head around the album. I listened to it yesterday, I was doing some harmony practice with it, and I was like, Oh, I really like this!”

I’ve had the opportunity to listen to the record a few times myself over the past month, and I concur with Lipp 100%. Oh, I really like this! Frames is a tight collection of well-crafted songs full of funk and fun, poignance and positivity. It’s guaranteed to provide a musical respite from a world awash with stress and strain.

The idea behind Frames, both as a title and a theme for the new album, emerged in studio. Here’s Adams’ take on it:

“The four of us have these very separate lives, physically in different places. But when we come together, we put all those pieces together, get on the same page and figure out what it means to be a band. You become a single entity from these four parts. We're kind of imagining these four different worlds as four different frames that intersect – and how closely can we make that intersection, so the thing becomes one life form?”

Gill echoed that sentiment. “We are connected to the patterns. We are the patterns, we're both within it and outside of it.”

Gill’s song “Blank Canvas,” kicks off Frames with a breezy yacht-rock ripple and lyrics that set a tone of liberation and release that reverberates throughout the album. To wit, he sings, “We can go anywhere we want, our story‘s not written yet.”

In a recent video posted on socials, Adams says “Blank Canvas,” “Represented a fresh start, like a new beginning, like anything's possible from this point.” Adams went on to say, “Zach, I'm sure, can speak more to the meaning of the lyrics.” I took that prompt as a directive to ask Gill to “speak more.” (Later, Gill posted his own video explaining a different aspect of the song’s progenesis):

“My dad has always been an artist. The house is filled with paintings. But he had never shown anyone. So, for his 80th birthday, we helped him put together a birthday party art show. It was impactful on a lot of different levels. Here's an 80-year-old man who jumped out of helicopters in Vietnam and made money in businesses and lost money in businesses and got involved in all sorts of different things. And here he is so nervous about sharing this art.

So, for the first time in my life, I've been sort of reframing myself as an ‘artist’ – which always felt pretentious. I always saw myself as a musician. But I've always drawn, I've always written songs, I've always written poetry. I've always made little movies, little sculptures. And once I realized that ‘this is art making,’ I just sort of accepted it. I found it pretty freeing. That's where the initial idea came for ‘Blank Canvas.’”

Next up is an Adams’ song, “Separated, Come Together,” a rocker from the get-go and one of the album’s best tracks. Though likely unintentional, this cut might remind some listeners of (and provide an optimistic answer to) The Offspring’s classic rock staple “Gotta Keep ‘Em Separated.”

When Adams shared his thoughts with me about “Separated, Come Together,” his thoughts harkened back to the theme of Frames. “With friendships, and your family, and touring, you're constantly coming back together and reuniting. [This song is about] wanting to appreciate the time you have together and know that it's not forever. It's a frame of mind.”

Lebowitz expanded on that “coming back together” aspect of ALO’s writing and collaborating process. “When we go to make an album, that's when we develop a narrative. New music always stretches us and pushes us in a little different direction. We're really open to the idea of collaborating on our ideas. That's kind of the unspoken rule. You throw out an idea and it doesn't stick and you're like, okay, cool. Or someone else throws out an idea.”

On Lebowitz’s “Space Between Frames” (which has an 80’s new wave’ish vibe, maybe a touch of Talking Heads in the mix), he might be singing about that experience of living with – and rising above – the tension that inevitably arises while making a record. Or the tension experienced when navigating any difficult relationship, or living in times of global turmoil, or facing any other type of challenge. There’s a line about being, “Lost in the time and all this confusion; there’s always a chance to make it feel right.” Never fear, music fans, ALO is here to help us forget our troubles for a while so we can rest, reset, and resume renewed.

Lebowitz underscored that sentiment – and by extension, the sentiment behind the entire album – when he told me that “Space Between Frames” is about, “How fast everything moves, and you're constantly making decisions, and then another one comes at you. And it's just fast, fast, fast, and fast. I find a lot of comfort in the space between those frames to figure the whole thing out. So you can move to the next one.”

The next one, at least on this record, is another Gill track. “Hey Hello (Tales of the Twist and Shout)” is the first song on Frames that bounces in the west coast party funk zone that best defines ALO’s sweet spot. When they play this one live and Gill commands the audience to move “A little to the left, a little to the right,” it’s bound to cue the Shapeshifters (that’s what ALO fans call themselves) to bop gleefully from one side to the other. “Hello” feels like a fitting partner to “Cowboys and Chorus Girls” from 2012’s Sounds Like This. (Hint to ALO: great live set segue opportunity here.)

Gill says this song emerged before he and his bandmates had settled on a leitmotif for the new record. “We were playing with the idea of making songs about occasions. Ezra wrote a song about Groundhog's Day, and I wrote a ‘second honeymoon’ song. I started thinking, ‘What if there was an introductory song?’ ‘Hey, Hello’ was left over from that original idea.”

That original idea about “occasions” eventually was dropped while ALO was in the recording studio, and a rough narrative about “frames” grew in its place. That’s a reflection of the way ALO interacts and collaborates synergistically and collaboratively, a topic each of the guys I the band mentioned when I talked with them:

Adams – “Going into the studio, you recalibrate; you share your thoughts. These frames come together.”

Lebowitz – “You throw out an idea and it doesn't stick and you're like, okay, cool. Everyone takes everyone's ideas very seriously. And sometimes it's just flowing.”

Gill – “Everybody's bringing in material and certain themes start to emerge, and no one has talked about that. It just sort of starts happening.”

Lipp – “[Being in the studio] felt flowing and magical and connected and energizing.”

Lipp also noted that some lyrics were repeated even though each songwriter came in with their tunes already in demo mode. “There's a line in ‘Rescue Our Demons’ that oddly enough starts with ‘High-heeled boots on a peckish frame.’ And Lebo has a line about demons in ‘Space Between Frames.’ You can almost do one of those connect-the-words things, like, Oh this song kind of shares something with this other one.”

“Rescue Our Demons” is a Lipp song with a modern alt-rock feel and a cruising beat. (I hear a touch of Death Cab for Cutie, a hint of Vampire Weekend.) Lipp’s lyricism is poignant and pretty – he’s the most consistently poetic and metaphorical writer of the quartet:

Leaning into the wind
Playing games in the water
Coming on like a drug
Too unsteady to falter

Lipp says “Demons” is, “A little escapist. It's positive energy. It's talking about not getting too serious about ourselves. And this is probably a good time for people to have music like that.”

There’s an eight-bar instrumental break near the end of “Demons,” a short guitar solo that will no doubt be expanded in ALO’s live performances. That’s true of many of the songs on Frames. Lebowitz, known as much for his tasty lead chops on his electrified acoustic guitar as he is for his set-ending “Lebo Leaps,” limits his solos to just a few bars on most of the cuts on Frames. (The longest song on the album is barely over five minutes long.) The guitar bit on “Demons” is classic Lebowitz, but it only hints at the live shred potential.

Oddly, “The End” comes at the album’s halfway point. As he does on many of these songs, Gill makes full use of his keyboard arsenal here to lay down the melody and build energy. (On “The End,” Gill uses a Rhodes, a Hammond B3, a piano, a Mellotron, and a Chompie sampler.) But it’s Adams’ Fender bass that pulls Gill’s song along with a powerful and dynamic 1-4-5 progression.

“Here comes that feeling again,” Gill sings in the refrain of this comfort-food funk song. Again, it’s a line that underscores the ALO ethos. As Gill told me, “One of the things that [our band] wants to do is not be part of all that other stuff but just be in its own set of interconnected frames.” (There’s that “frames” theme again!) Gill added that one of ALO’s goals is to provide listeners with, “A little bit of a different space than some of the other things that are going on, things that might be pretty intense.”

“Warmth of the Night” provides that space too, a space disconnected from the hubbub and turmoil of our busy, modern lives. It’s one of the album’s gems, though perhaps the one least likely to surface in ALO concert setlists. The chorus on this acoustic-ish love song begins with “We don’t need no fire” – but “Warmth” might be the most suitable-for-campfire song ALO has ever recorded.

Angelic harmonies by Fruition’s Jay Cobb Anderson, Kellen Asebroek and Mimi Naja elevate “Warmth” to a heavenly tier. Lebowitz says the way those harmonies came about is just another example of synchronicity in the making of Frames:

“I remember at one point I was like, what would Fruition do if they were here right now? Because that's the kind of vibe that we need for this song. [I reached out to them] and they were literally like, Oh my God, in two days we're getting together to start a run and we're all flying into San Francisco. It was perfect timing.”

Perfect timing indeed – which segues perfectly into the next tune. Lipp returns to the mic with a song about grace and acceptance on “You May Not Get It All,” a catchy, bouncy lilt laden with positivity. (In the chorus, the title words are followed by “But that’s all right.”) A neat little half-measure instrumental turnaround riff flows into the verses after each melodic musical interlude, a little detail but one of the most distinctive and creative musical phrases on Frames.

Next, ALO goes country on Adam’s “Simple Sentimental Dream.” Oh, what I would give to hear George Jones sing this one with heavy Texas drawl! “New love, old love, in between exciting.” That space-between-frames thing again.

Finally, Gill namechecks everything from “Starsky and Hutch” to hacky sacks in his sweet, nostalgic album closer “Friends.” “It actually started off as this other song called ‘Bros,’” Gill told me. “I took some of the verses from there – but ‘Bros’ was about two male friends, and I've got lots of female friends. So then I was like, I don't want us to have a song about friendship and have it just be men.” Well played, sir!

Shapeshifters know that love and friendship are one of ALO’s “secret weapons.” Gill, Lebowitz, and Adams met in elementary school, and Lipp was welcomed into their embrace with open arms when he took his spot on the ALO drum kit seven years ago. The band members are super-friendly with their devoted audience too. ALO shows are always a big love fest. Given that vibe, “Friends” will be a fan fave, no doubt.

Lebowitz gets his longest guitar solo on the record to bring “Friends” and Frames to a close. The album’s coda is a great reminder of the jamband power that ALO often keeps in check on studio recordings relative to its electrifying live shows.

With few exceptions, the songs on Frames were not test-driven on stage prior to ALO’s recording sessions last fall. Instead, each of the band members brought in a few songs that were new to everyone else. “They're all kind of like studio babies,” Adams says.

Now, with the album in the can and a leg of ALO’s tour about to start on the east coast, the band is continuing to hone live versions of the songs on Frames. Adams noted before ALO’s February west coast tour dates that, “There are songs that are going to be challenging and require a little more focused rehearsal to figure out how to create a live version.”

Lebowitz says this is a typical post-album experience: “Some of the early versions of songs, we’ll be kind of experimenting. Six months later, you're like, ‘Okay, these are the final parts of it.’ I'm always surprised that ones I think are going to take a while to figure out live just come right together.”

Lipp has a similar outlook. “I'm looking forward to hearing some of the things live that I think are right in the wheelhouse and hearing some of the things live that might go a little bit to a little bit of a new place.”

And finally, Gill sums up the ALO ethos behind the new music thing: “It's pretty exciting when the songs get to their get to the point where you could play them, where they play themselves. That's when new things start emerging from them.”

That’s the fun and challenge of being a jam band; you start with a “Blank Canvas,” and then you fill in the frame, daring to color outside the lines.

Phish philled San Phrancisco’s Bill Graham Civic Auditorium with a phlood of phrenzied phans for the phirst of two shows Tuesday night. (Phew!)

Concertgoers started lining up at lunchtime to jockey for a good spot in the GA show. By the time the doors opened at 6 p.m., there were over a thousand people in a line that stretched all the way around the Civic Center Plaza.

Full disclosure: I’m not particularly a Phish acolyte. Please hold the hate mail. I think they are an incredibly talented band – all four of the guys in Phish (do I really need to name them?) are uniquely gifted musicians, and I really dig their 2000 album Farmhouse. There is no denying their skill, stature, or influence, and they absolutely deserve to be voted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame on this year’s ballot.

Having said that, this was only the third time I’ve ever seen Phish. (For reference, I saw the Grateful Dead 250 times, so I know a little something about jam band fanaticism.) Is it going to be a problem for you that I didn’t know a single song title all night on Tuesday? Then you might want to stop reading now.

And by the way, this isn’t going to be a traditional song-by-song review. Google is your friend if you want that kind of thing.

If you’re still reading, you might start to wonder, “Why would Grateful Web send a guy who isn’t in the Phamily to cover a Phish show?!” And you may have a point. When they played “Halley’s Comet” in the middle of the first set on Tuesday, I was making my way through the dense crowd on the floor of the auditorium. I thought all the folks singing along (and that was everybody) were telling me “Harry’s Coming!” Yeah, I’m that clueless. Also, I was wearing earplugs, so that might have contributed to my befuddlement.

But to borrow Bill Graham’s quote about another band that I just namechecked, Phish isn’t just the best at what they do; they’re the only ones that do what they do. So yeah, it may not be my chosen flavor of ice cream, but it’s a damn good flavor. (Oh, wait, come to think of it, Ben and Jerry’s Phish Food actually is my favorite supermarket ice cream.)

It’s not like I’ve never heard of Phish. Way back in 1987, in a Grateful Dead show parking lot in New Jersey, someone from Burlington played a bootleg tape of their favorite local band. “You’ve got to see them! They’re gonna be big!” I just missed seeing them on a trip to northern Vermont a year later; they’d played only days before I arrived. My brother-in-law was a regular at Wetlands in New York City before the band outgrew that storied venue. I know folks who were at that epic 8-hour Phish NYE show in Florida in 1999, just before the band’s extended hiatus. I have friends who do every Phish tour, either on the road or on their couch (via LivePhish.com, Phish’s own concert streaming service).

In other words, I “get it.” Darn good band. Cool fans. And man, the light show!

A friend of mine commented on Facebook that he had never experienced a crowd in the Bill Graham Civic Auditorium as thick as Tuesday night’s show. Not even at Grateful Dead New Year’s Eve shows in the 1980s, which ol’ Bill Graham himself famously oversold. (And no, the venue was not named for Bill yet back then.) I’m sure part of the reason is that the Dead put speakers in the hallways, and tons of people were out there dancing.

Phish didn’t put speakers in the hallways at the Civic. That would be like putting speakers in the hallway at a museum. Visuals are an integral part of the show.

Seriously, major props to lighting designer Chris Kuroda and his team; they are superstars! (Does the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame have a slot for lighting designers?) The band members may not jump around a lot – perhaps a Grateful Dead similarity, although Phish does have trampolines in their blood – but the rigs above the stage are in constant motion. Sort of like a pile of psychedelic robotic kittens executing Lady Gaga dance routines. (The lights, not the band.)

Okay, I’ll stop making Grateful Dead comparisons now. No, wait, one more. I don’t think Phish sounds much like the Dead (though someone who never listens to jam bands might disagree), but “Roggae” has a significant “Birdsong” vibe. Coming after “Halley’s” toward the end of the first set, the jam was one of my favorite grooves of the night.

Another clear influence (Trey Anastasio has confirmed this) is Frank Zappa. “Split Open and Melt” has a complex syncopation and time signature in the jam that really sparked my jazz-loving soul. Total Zappa-esque singing by Trey in the verses. Weird, crafty, intelligent stuff.

For the most part, however, the band that Phish really sounds like is … Phish. You can hear that sound in the mix of countless jam bands on the scene today, from Goose to Eggy to Pigeons Playing Ping Pong. (Why do so many of these bands have ornithological names? Fair question.) Not unlike the Dead and the Allman Brothers, Phish has made a significant, top-of-the-heap imprint on the world of music loosely known as “Jam.”

Set Two opened with “Carini,” a rocker with a distinctive Led Zeppelin “Kashmir” pulse with a touch of Rush’s “Tom Sawyer” in the lyrical phrasing. The rest of the set, true to form for the genre, had longer jams than the first set. Ten songs in Set One, only six in Set Two, and both sets were about equal in duration. It’s not my intent to disparage the band when I say that (true story) I had this thought the last time I saw Phish:

“Wow. They’re still playing the same damn song they were playing five minutes ago – when I had noticed that wow, they’re still playing the same damn song they were playing ten minutes ago!”

I’m not even kidding. At the start of “Ruby Waves,” I left my friends on the floor, wandered into the hallways, hiked up the stairs to the seated level, made a complete circumference bopping through dancers on the walkway inside the arena, and then went downstairs again. Taking my time the whole way, meandering, enjoying myself. And then Trey came back to the refrain again, and I realized he was singing the same damn song.

No hate, just an observation.

You could call it foreshadowing that the music on the PA before the band took the stage to start the show was something by Fela Kuti, whose songs were sometimes so long that you couldn’t even fit live versions of them on one vinyl album side. Like Kuti, Phish songs are often hypnotic. You don’t even realize how far they are traveling until you get to a point where you’re galloping in the midst of a tornado, even though you started your stroll in a mild breeze. How did we get here?! Who cares, just look at those awesome lights!

One of my friends told me on Tuesday night, “This is as good as Phish gets!” Which for him (a mere babe at only about 35 shows) was high praise. I can’t argue with that. As I walked to my car after the “Fluffhead” encore, I wondered if any of the fans exiting the doors behind me were just going to stick around and start the queue for Wednesday night’s show. Because God love ’em, that’s how Phish fans roll.

SETLIST

SET 1:
Buried Alive
Axilla (Part II) >
Mike’s Song (with “Manteca” tease) >
I Am Hydrogen >
Weekapaug Groove
My Soul
Halley’s Comet
Roggae >
Maze
Split Open and Melt

SET 2:
Carini
No Men In No Man’s Land
Ruby Waves (with “Black Magic Woman” tease)
Waste >
What’s the Use? >
Down with Disease

ENCORE:
Fluffhead

Camper Van Beethoven packed The Fillmore Auditorium in San Francisco on Saturday night to celebrate the 40th anniversary of Telephone Free Landslide Victory, their debut album. The 80s indie stalwarts played a two-hour show that started with the entirety of the 1985 record (played in the original track order) and then moved on to a retrospective of their entire catalog.

For many of us at The Fillmore on Saturday, Camper Van Beethoven’s (CVB) music is a nostalgic flashback to a time when FM radio sucked, MTV was as bland as it was new, and rap hadn’t yet gathered attention from most of America’s White college kids. Like the Pixies and the Replacements, CVB seems tame in today’s rearview mirror. But at the time, they were edgy and offbeat. Being into CVB was a mark of being “cool” in a nerdy music way.

The vast majority of the audience at The Fillmore on Saturday looked like they’d bought their first CVB album in the 80s and never stopped listening to it. They also looked like people who still have record players and dig vinyl. Call it a hunch.

Here’s my own CVB story: In the early 80’s, I worked for several years at Sluggo’s, a collectively run cafe at Porter College on the UC Santa Cruz campus. One of our favorite bands (café staff and students alike) was CVB. The fledgling band was originally from Redlands but had relocated to Santa Cruz when some of the members enrolled at the university. I can’t say for sure if they played their “official” record release party at Sluggo’s to celebrate Telephone Free Landslide Victory in 1985, but I remember them playing several shows at our little cafe at the time.

We loved that album. CVB had cobbled together a killer collection of timeless lo-fi indie songs. Wry lyrics sung by David Lowery (the title refrain of their college radio hit “Take the Skinheads Bowling,” for instance) meshed well with Russian-influenced instrumental ditties like “Balalaika Gap” and a cover of Black Flag’s “Wasted.” Our cafe cassette player had Telephone Free Landslide Victory in heavy rotation along with Grateful Dead bootlegs, the Talking Heads, and NorCal folkie Kate Wolf.

Has it really been 40 fucking years! since that album came out?

I texted one of my best friends from The Fillmore show, a fellow CVB fan who worked with me at Sluggo’s. When I told him I was at a show celebrating the 40th anniversary of the release of Telephone Free Landslide Victory, he texted back a very short list:

1.    Fuck yeah!
2.    Damn, we’re old.

Word, dude.

The lineup for the record in 1985 was Lowery on guitars and vocals, Chris Molla on guitar and other instruments, Victor Krummenacher on bass, Jonathan Segel on violin, guitar, and keys, and Anthony Guess on drums. The Fillmore show had longtime CVB drummer Chris Pedersen on the skins, but Guess showed up to sit in for a few songs. So they really did get the ol’ band back together again for the anniversary!

Guitar player Greg Lisher is credited as a member of CVB on Telephone Free Landslide Victory, but he was not yet in the lineup when they recorded the tracks. On the other hand, he’s been with the band ever since, whereas Molla departed in 1986 and only rejoined CVB for one brief period since then. Molla stayed on accordion for the show on Saturday night, giving the guitar solo spotlight to Lisher.

CVB has 40 years of history following the release of Telephone Free Landslide Victory. Too much to describe here. More albums and national tours in the 80s. Lowery leaving to form Cracker in the 90s. Other members starting their own bands and also playing with established acts including The Counting Crows, Dave Alvin, and Sparklehorse. There have been several CVB reunions, more albums recorded in the 2000s (including, oddly enough, a track-for-track cover of Fleetwood Mac’s Tusk), and double bill tours with Cracker.  

I’m a curmudgeon. Nothing CVB has ever done has grabbed me the way I was grabbed by Telephone Free Landslide Victory. But everything they’ve done has been worthy.

The performance of the classic 1985 debut album was spot-on at The Fillmore. The obvious crowd-pleasers (“Wasted,” “Take the Skinheads Bowling”) were a treat. Deeper cuts like the album opener "The Day That Lassie Went to the Moon" and closer “Ambiguity Song” sounded as fresh and exciting as ever. “Where the Hell is Bill” has perhaps the best lyrics on the record (“Maybe he went to get some gnarly thrash boots”) and remains as delightfully banal as it was four decades ago.

Likewise, the instrumental Russian polkas (“Vladivostok,” for one) and spaghetti western ditties (including “Yanqui Go Home”), have survived seven presidencies intact. Often, it’s Segel’s violin that takes the lead on these cuts, and there’s always a fun, bouncy guitar melody. All of these songs straddle the border between satire and inspiration, and they still rock my socks off.

I mean, who could listen to “Tina” without smiling and swinging to and fro?

After the run through of Telephone Free Landslide Victory’s 18 songs, CVB played about 15 more songs from its vast catalog. “(We’re a) Bad Trip” is classic pre-grunge rock, and foreshadowed the direction Lowery would take with Cracker. I can remember slam dancing to this one when CVB opened for X at a club in Santa Cruz in the late 80s. “Good Guys and Bad Guys,” their cover of Status Quo’s “Pictures of Matchstick Men” – they played all the hits. (Nothing from Tusk though, darn it.)

The sold-out crowd of Crumbs (that’s the name given to fans of Cracker, who all seem to be CVB fans too) ate up every last bit of it. I was a bit sad they didn’t play “ZZ Top Goes to Egypt,” which was actually written on their setlist for Saturday night. I’m sure the fans who return for Sunday’s show will get to hear that one.

This was the first CVB show since 2000, and it was a truly special evening for those of us who have been riding along with these guys for a long, long time. Has it really been 40 fucking years? Seems like yesterday.

The High Sierra Music Festival returns to the Plumas County Fairgrounds in Quincy, CA, on July 3-6, 2025. Tickets are available now via the festival website.

As always, High Sierra will present a wide variety of bluegrass, jam, Americana, funk, folk, and worldbeat acts. This year’s lineup includes Molly Tuttle, Lyrics Born, ALO, Dogs in a Pile, Daniel Donato’s Cosmic Country, and rising superstar Grace Bowers & The Hodge Podge. And then there’s John Craigie, The Slip, Mikaela Davis, Steve Poltz, and a very special appearance by Amy Helm and the (Levon) Helm Midnight Family Ramble.

At least four members of Trey Anastasio Band will be on hand too. Trumpeter Jennifer Hartswick will be an “artist at large,” sitting in with a number of other acts. Trombonist  Natalie Cressman will play Brazilian jazz with her husband and musical partner Ian Faquini. LaMP, a high-energy instrumental jam band, features TAB drummer Russ Lawton and keyboardist Ray Paczkowski along with JRAD’s Scott Metzger.

High Sierra has something for everyone: a variety of tasty food and inventive crafts for sale, daily parades, shady and sunny venues, and even a family camping area and a Family Zone with activities for kids of all ages. Parents can even enjoy some kid-free evening time by reserving a babysitting spot with the Rockin’ Nannies, a group of qualified educators, professionals, and CPR-certified child-care providers.

This year, High Sierra is adding a new stage to its daily programming. The indoor Lagniappe Lounge will have a full musical lineup each day running alongside the well-established Vaudeville Tent and Big Meadow Stage. The Grandstand Stage, High Sierra’s largest venue, will start its programming later in the day, and will have more shade options than ever before.

In addition to daily lineups across four stages with over 50 performers, High Sierra will continue to host its beloved Playshops. These unique experiences bring together musicians and singers who typically do not perform with each other. Playshops often revolve around unconventional and offbeat themes, artist tributes, and alternative genre explorations.

Costume themes, campground décor, and tons of smiles. High Sierra lifers know it’s the happiest place on earth.

I recently met with High Sierra’s producer David Margulies to talk about what’s new and different for HSMF25 – and to revel in the magic, the "secret sauce" that makes this festival so special. Here’s an edited transcript of our conversation.

Gabriel David Barkin (GDB): It looks like your lineup for HSMF25 is pretty much settled. You've got the alphabetical lineup poster and all that. Any more surprises coming?

David Margulies (DM): There's one more slot that hasn't been booked yet. The Sunday night closer is still to be determined right now, and I'm kind of holding out for something miraculous to present itself in hopes that we have some closer with a big bang. So I've left that spot open intentionally.

GDB: Seems like some people on the Facebook High Sierra Community page and elsewhere are still waiting for more, or they’re bemoaning that there's no headliner like years past – a Robert Plant, a My Morning Jacket, or a Ziggy Marley, for instance. Was that purposeful, to steer away from those big-name draws? Tell me about your approach to booking acts for this year’s festival.

DM: Well, it's really about being able to continue to do what we do. Because if we did book a Primus or a Ziggy Marley or a big six-figure-plus act, it wouldn’t move the needle for us with regard to ticket sales and could jeopardize our chance of surviving financially.

I'm looking at sustainability here, and I want this festival to continue for years to come. I'm more interested in building up the community of High Sierra lifers who really understand and get what the real prize is about High Sierra. And when you have over 50 bands, one headline band doesn't make or break the festival.

GDB: That’s clearly a different model than almost every other festival, right?

DM: People who are looking only at headliners can see those acts at places like the Greek Theater or the Hollywood Bowl. But if they're looking for a broader, deeper experience – the community and the parades and the playshops and the family village and the kickball – all of those things are unique to High Sierra. Then there’s the pop-up performances at places like Bitchin’ Kitchen, Camp Happiness, and elsewhere.

To me, “the headliner” is anybody that you're excited to see.

High Sierra has always been for serious music lovers. The way we've always curated the stages lets you peel back and dig in a little bit. You're going to find gems. That's how people found String Cheese Incident many years ago when they played on our second stage. That's how people found Yonder Mountain and the Avett Brothers and the Lumineers and Billy Strings.

GDB: That’s always been true for me. I can't tell you how many times I’ve ended up in the Vaudeville Tent on Sunday night when some big act is closing the main stage and some other amazing act is on the Big Meadow. And I’m in the Vaudeville tent with maybe 100 people watching some avant garde jazzy thing, like Jacob Fred Jazz Odyssey or last year it was Scott Amendola & the Sticklerphonics.

DM: Don't sleep on the middle card and the under card at High Sierra!

GDB: So tell me about three performers who have never been at High Sierra before that you're really excited to have on the lineup this year.

DM: Where do I go with that? I mean, there's so many.

GDB: I can prime the pump for you. I am stoked you have Grace Bowers on the bill. She is going to blow people's socks off.

DM: She's just creating so much curiosity and doing everything right. She just did that Love Rocks NYC thing where she was on stage with Trey and Cher and Peter Frampton. She was on the Grammys with Chris Martin. And she's just an 18-year-old girl! I can't wait for her and someone like Bella Rayne to like trade licks at Guitarmageddon. [HSMF’s annual guitar throwdown Playshop]

She's going to love High Sierra and High Sierra is going to love her. Grace Bowers is a perfect example of “See her now before you'll be seeing her at the Hollywood Bowl.”

GDB: All right, that’s one. Who else hasn't played High Sierra yet that you are stoked to have on board?

DM: Well, we can talk about Karina Rykman, for instance. She’s primarily an East Coast player and she came into the scene playing with Marco Benevento. She’s developed a fairly strong following, and she puts on an incredibly dynamic and highly energized show.

GDB: OK, that’s two.

DM: The thing I'm probably most excited about is the Midnight Ramble Band with Amy Helm. All those players that played with Levon Helm doing a tribute to The Band and Levon Helm on Saturday night. It's going to be an incredible legacy act.

It’s squarely in our rootsy Americana wheelhouse, and it’s something that is highly unique and has never been at High Sierra before. They've never done this outside of the barn in In Woodstock. This is the first festival that they're doing. So it's incredibly special.

GDB: You mentioned “legacy.” High Sierra has its own amazing legacy, which includes performers who come every year, who have become part of the festival’s fabric. So I have to ask: are you going to have a Nathan Moore / Steve Poltz smackdown? You know, you've got Nathan, the “Mayor of High Sierra.” You've got Poltz, whom you literally crowned last year as the “Crown Prince” of the festival. You’ve got to get them together!

DM: I’m hoping to have the two of them in a Troubadour Session one night. [The Troubadour Sessions are acoustic singer-songwriter circles held each night in an intimate venue.] And, you know, that's a big one for us – to be able to bring back not only Nathan Moore, but also Surprise Me Mr. Davis, along with the Slip and the Barr Brothers. Surprise Me Mr. Davis [a “supergroup” featuring Moore and The Slip] formed at High Sierra over 20 years ago!

GDB: But no Marco Benevento this year, who also plays with Surprise Me?

DM: Marco wasn’t available.

GDB: My wife will be very sad to hear that.

Another legacy act is ALO, who by virtue of their name just happens to be first on the bill when you look at the alphabetical poster. They’re part of the legacy too. For some High Sierra lifers, they count as a “headliner.”

DM: Yes, and it’s not like we shied away from a bigger headliner. My philosophy is if there was a bigger headliner that made sense, like a Goose or a Trey or a My Morning Jacket, someone who really landed squarely in the wheelhouse, who matches the musical values of High Sierra, we would certainly spend the money. But to chase after a headliner for a headliner's sake is not necessarily a wise business decision. Primus fans, for example – as great a band as Primus is, they're not driving four hours plus to come camp in Quincy, California for four days.

We have to be smart about how we spend money. Every line item in our budget has gone up by about 30% since the pandemic! That's why we almost went out of business. And we're not raising our ticket prices this year.

GDB: Yeah, I hear you on that. We've seen all these festivals that aren’t going forward. And I'm not talking about the joke-worthy Fyre 2 Festival, obviously, but about all these good people in California and elsewhere that can't make it work anymore. So many festivals that can’t go on.

When I did my own back-of-the-envelope calculation on what the four headliners in 2024 must have cost you, I'm figuring you could have come in much lower on ticket sales and still do better.

DM: The idea is to lower the budget and come out okay even if our ticket sales are lighter than last year.

GDB: We heard rumors last year that 2024 might be the final High Sierra. Obviously, it wasn’t. But I think this year is the last year of your contract with the Plumas County Fairgrounds in Quincy. Is that true? What are you thinking about for the future?

DM: Everything is up in the air right now. I want to see how we do this year.

We love Quincy. We love being part of the community there. However, our audience is aging. We're not the same people we were when we started this festival. We were in our 30s and 40s, and now we're in our 50s and 60s. A lot of people who are High Sierra lifers either have families, or maybe they’re done with sleeping on the ground. They want creature comforts. So the lack of available lodging in Quincy is a real issue for a lot of people. They just won't camp anymore and it's too difficult or expensive to rent an RV or find an alternative.

GDB: So what are you doing about the heat this year?

DM: We're adding more shade structures into the Grandstand meadow. We're also starting the music in the Grandstand later in the day. Instead of noon or one o'clock, we're starting it at four o'clock.

We’re also opening up what was the old Funk’n Jam House [a fairgrounds building] to be a lounge that is a fully operative stage, with programming akin to what the Vaudeville Tent will have. It will go from noon until two in the morning, like the Vaudeville Tent does. It's going to have a lounge vibe. We'll probably put some couches and chairs either inside or right outside with some speakers and create some shade to get out of the sun and chill out. People will be able to see and hear great live music like Rainbow Girls and Whiskerman and Handmade Moments. All of the second-tier bands that are playing the Big Meadow and Vaudeville Tents, many of them will also have a shot at playing in the Lounge.

We're calling it the Lagniappe Lounge, which is a Louisiana French word that means, “a little something extra.” We're actually increasing the number of bands and the amount of programming that we're offering this year.

GDB: I can’t wait. You always bring in new discoveries that become some of my favorites.

DM: My intention this year was to really lean into artist discovery and present bands that are on par with the Galactics and the Dumpstafunks of the world. Just like how we had Cimafunk last year, who nobody really knew, and who just ripped the roof off. We've got The Rumble coming from New Orleans, and there's this Afro-Latin band led by percussionist Mitchum Yacoub – he's got a nine-piece band that is just going to blow the doors off the Vaudeville Tent

Spots matter at High Sierra, and timing matters. If you're in the right spot at the right time, you'll have that magical moment.

Want to lean into artist discovery? Check out the High Sierra Music Festival 2025 on Spotify at https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0of3qIa61OR2dByVuXCApx

For tickets and more information, visit https://www.highsierramusic.com

The Warren Haynes Band filled the Fillmore Auditorium in San Francisco on Saturday night for two sets of high-energy blues, soul and jazz. Haynes is touring in support of his 2024 Million Voices Whisper, his first solo album in almost a decade.

The venerable blues and rock guitar player has an enviable, perhaps unparalleled résumé. Few artists get the call to tap in as the lead guitar player for a Rock and Roll Hall of Fame band. Haynes has been honored to play with several inductees, including the Allman Brothers and several post-Jerry Garcia Grateful Dead ensembles (notably Phil & Friends and The Other Ones). His own band, Gov't Mule, has likewise earned accolades as a headline‑worthy jam band.

For the Fillmore show, Haynes’ band included longtime drummer Terence Higgins (from the Dirty Dozen Brass Band) and Gov’t Mule’s current bassist Kevin Scott. Both were in the studio with Haynes to record Million Voices Whisper. The touring band also includes Matt Slocum on keys (John Medeski played on the record) and Greg Osby on sax. Osby has also played in several Grateful Dead offshoots, and his jazz résumé includes gigs with legends such as Jack DeJohnette, Dizzy Gillespie and Herbie Hancock. Slocum has collaborated with Allman Brothers veterans Oteil Burbridge and Derek Trucks, among others.

For two sets—well over three hours of music!—Haynes and friends shredded versions of tracks from Million Voices Whisper, several Allman Brothers classics, some Government Mule favorites, and a few classic rock covers.

The new songs meshed well. “Real, Real Love,” coming in the middle of the first set, is a mellow Southern rock ballad that gave Haynes a chance to showcase his Carolina whiskey voice. Derek Trucks provided the slide lead on the record, but Haynes gets to make it all his own when he plays it live. As the energy built during the instrumental jam, his solo revealed some of its Allman Brothers DNA, with melodic hints of “Blue Sky.”

“Lies, Lies, Lies,” another cut from Million Voices Whisper, took off like a freight train in the second set, careening around the bend at 100 miles per hour. Scott’s deep funk bass lines kept the engine fired up from the get‑go on this hard‑rocking boogie. It’s no secret to anyone who sees this ensemble that Scott is The Warren Haynes Band’s secret weapon.

For the Allman Brothers faithful, the first set ended with Gregg Allman’s “Dreams,” followed by “Instrumental Illness.” The cell phones came out to record video of “Dreams,” which did not disappoint. Osby threw down a sax solo with a deadly jazz‑fusion vibe to kick off the jam in the middle. Haynes’ guitar solo also hit Coltrane‑like heights, then dropped into a restful valley before sliding back up again to a lofty peak on the wings of Duane Allman’s angelic template.

“Instrumental Illness,” cowritten by Haynes and Oteil Burbridge for 2003’s Hittin' the Note, affirmed that the artistry and creativity of the latter‑day Allman Brothers was every bit as astonishing as the “classic” lineup. The jazz‑fusion bass lines, syncopated guitar riffs and multi‑faceted landscapes of improvisational genius belong in the pantheon of Allman monsters like “In Memory Of Elizabeth Reed” and “Mountain Jam.” Yeah, I’m putting it way up there. (This song was first on my “Hope they play it!” list for the show.)

The second set opened with a delicious Hammond solo by Slocum before any of the other band members played a note. After Slocum teased “One Way Out,” Haynes & Co. jumped in to play Haynes’s inspirational anthem “Soulshine,” originally sung by Gregg Allman when the Allman Brothers recorded their studio version. It’s worth noting here that Haynes has no trouble admirably fitting into the very big, bluesy vocal shoes of his former bandmate Gregg. At the Madison Square Garden “Brothers” show last month, Haynes stood in for his departed brother all night long, and not one song suffered in translation. We miss Gregg horribly. But Warren’s way cool too.

As the night progressed, several covers made guest appearances onstage. Tower of Power’s epic dance tune “What Is Hip” gave the crowd its first bass solo of the night and then a wicked Hammond organ turn by Slocum before the band segued into Van Morrison’s “I’ve Been Working.” Later, Haynes paid obligatory tribute to Jerry Garcia (a common courtesy at The Fillmore) by playing the jam‑band idol’s famous Stratocaster, Alligator, on a snippet of “Dark Star” and a full rendition of “Black Peter.”

(Is there any guitar on the planet that has been played by so many hands—particularly gifted hands—as Alligator?)

I remember seeing Haynes with a fledgling Government Mule on the undercard at a H.O.R.D.E. show in the early ’90s. They were playing in a small tent away from the main stage. I was already impressed by Haynes’ Allman Brothers work, and I became an instant fan of that “side project.” Mule quickly grew to a festival‑marquee band on the strength of Haynes’s songwriting, shredding and stage presence.

Now in his 66th year, Haynes has become something of an elder statesman in blues rock, especially on the jam side of the genre. This is not coincidental. (Older ≠ more accolades; ya gotta earn it!) His slide work and soloing stand out in a crowded field. Haynes’ rapid‑fire‑pointillist‑Boolean‑note‑switching, a frequent calling card of his solo crescendos, is part of a signature style that has been wowing axe‑heads since his early days in David Allan Coe’s band.

He’s surrounded himself with equally stunning bandmates. Higgins was a beast on the skins, and he and Scott in particular are also really fun to watch. By the time Haynes and his world‑class band closed the second set with “Invisible” (from his debut solo album Tales of Ordinary Madness), it was hard to miss seeing all these cats as alpha dogs in a world of jam bands named for various forms of sea life and fowl. The extra round of solos in the encore—a version of Steely Dan’s “Pretzel Logic”—locked it in.

For 27 years running, Marin County roadhouse Rancho Nicasio has hosted a summertime “BBQs on the Lawn” concert series. Los Lobos, the venerable SoCal rock band, has been around nearly twice as long. Put the two together, and ¡ya está! – the perfect marriage of tasty music and pastoral backyard vibes to kick off Memorial Day weekend.

Lines were long but worth the wait for Rancho Nicasio’s baby back pork ribs and smoked brisket (plus all the fixin’s, of course). The weather cooperated too, with a breeze offsetting the warm sunshine throughout the afternoon show.

But make no mistake, the main course on the menu was Los Lobos. For two sets, the sextet delivered a menu that included rock and roll (“Will the Wolf Survive”; a cover of the Blasters’ “Flat Top Joint”), Mexican polkas (“Ay te dejo en San Antonio,” a Santiago Jiménez song), and a highly anticipated version of the Grateful Dead’s “Bertha.”

The core of Los Lobos goes all the way back to 1973. At Rancho Nicasio, founders David Hidalgo (guitar, accordion, vocals), Cesar Rosas (guitar, vocals), and Louie Pérez (guitar, jarana, drums) were accompanied by Steve Berlin ((keyboards, saxophone) – who has “only” been with the band since 1982 – and drummer Alfredo Ortiz, now in his fourth year on the skins.

Another founding member, bass player Conrad Lorenzo, was notably absent, despite having played the evening before in Tulare. (Rumor has it he had a family celebration he needed to attend over the weekend.) David Hidalgo’s son Vinnie filled in admirably on bass.

For the first half of the show (a short first set, and for the first few songs of the second), much of the audience remained seated in plastic lawn chairs set up in front of the stage. People walked by the band carrying plates of BBQ. Rosas said, These people walking around with food are making me hungry.” But after filling themselves with cornbread, baked beans, and watermelon, the crowd remained hungry for music.

Rosas then implored the audience to shake their well-fed booties. “We’d like to invite all our dancers up here!” At first, there were no takers. But by the end of the next song, the lawn area in front of the arranged seats had morphed into a crowded ballroom dance floor.

The second set ended with “Going Down the Road Feeling Bad” (often covered by the Grateful Dead) segueing into “Bertha.” For an encore, Los Lobos rewarded a crowd eager for classic rock with Neil Young’s “Cinnamon Girl.”

Then the little ol’ band from East L.A. brought it all back home with their mega-hit “La Bamba.” But before throwing down their familiar, raucous version of the Mexican traditional folk song, Los Lobos paid homage to Bob Dylan’s birthday by singing the first verse of “La Bamba” to the tune of “Like a Rolling Stone.”

With the sun still high above the western horizon, Los Lobos ended the show with yet another song familiar to Grateful Dead fans, The Olympics’ “Good Lovin’.” And what’s not to love about a band that still kicks butt and takes names after more than fifty years?!

SET LIST:

Set One:
Will the Wolf Survive?
Set Me Free (Rosa Lee)
One Time One Night
Wicked Rain
Georgia Slop (Jimmy McCracklin cover)
Dream in Blue
Maricela

Set Two:
Is This All There Is?
Chuco's Cumbia
Shoot Out the Lights (Richard & Linda Thompson cover)
Kiko and the Lavender Moon
I'm Gonna Be a Wheel Someday (Bobby Mitchell cover)
Ay te dejo en San Antonio (Santiago Jiménez cover)
Cumbia Raza
Flat Top Joint (The Blasters cover)
Don't Worry Baby
I Got Loaded (Little Bob & the Lollipops cover)
Going Down the Road Feeling Bad ([traditional] cover) >
Bertha (Grateful Dead cover)

Encore:
Cinnamon Girl (Neil Young & Crazy Horse cover)
La Bamba (traditional) (In the style of “Like a Rolling Stone by Bob Dylan”) >
La Bamba (traditional) >
Good Lovin' (The Olympics cover) >
La Bamba (reprise)

Jam band darlings Goose played to an enthusiastic crowd for the first of two shows at San Francisco’s Masonic Auditorium on Tuesday night. Following the prickly departure of percussionist Jeff Arevalo earlier this year, the Masonic shows marked the first appearance by Goose-is-now-a-quartet within San Francisco city limits.

With only one drummer in the lineup for the first time since 2020, the four members of Goose now frame the stage in a semicircle; Cotter Ellis’s drum kit sits at one end, and Peter Anspach’s keyboard corral at the other. Guitarist Rich Mitarotonda and bassist Trevor Weeks fill the space between. They’ve deployed a similar arrangement as a quintet in the recent past, but with the percussion riser somewhat behind everyone else. Now just a quartet, Goose seems more grounded, both tighter and looser at the same time. The stage layout is symbolically equalizing—and, from the audience perspective, it makes the whole thing more of an interactive circle of celebration and less us-vs.-them-ish.

While these shows were ostensibly part of the BottleRock Napa Valley Music Festival “AfterDark” series, there was no sign of BottleRock. In practice, this was purely a “GooseRock” event. Goose on stage. Gooseheads on the dance floor. Gooseheads in the seated balcony of the Masonic.

It’s worth dwelling for a moment on the impressive mid-century modernist architecture of the Masonic edifice. The venue was built in the ’50s by the Grand Lodge of Free & Accepted Masons of California to house its administrative offices and host annual meetings. The foyer is dominated by a stunning 70-foot-long endomosaic window that depicts the history and contributions of California Masons to the state’s history. From the Masonic’s website:

“The artwork, created in 1956 by the late Big Sur artist Emile Norman, is neither a typical mosaic nor a stained-glass window. Rather, it is made up of more than 150 hues of crushed glass, plus other materials including soil, plant matter, and metals, all pressed between two large panes of acrylic, or plastic … The work is chock-full of esoteric iconography and allusions.”

In that regard, the Masonic is the perfect venue to provide a home for two nights for Goose, whose music is chock-full of esoteric iconography and allusions. Certainly (not wholly unlike Masons and many other acolytes and fanatics of various entities), Gooseheads are in sync with their band’s esoterica. Before the band took the stage, and throughout the night, the crowd frequently howled, “Goooooooose!” The uninitiated might think it was a “Boooooooo!”; Bruce Springsteen and Lou Reed fans can attest to the same experience.

Goose’s popularity was ascendant when COVID shut everything down, but came flying back on musical steroids when the live-music scene bubbled back to life in 2021. They garnered headline status at music festivals and an opening slot for Dead & Company in Mexico. Other Grateful Dead associations didn’t hurt either; Mitarotonda played in some Phil & Friends ensembles during Phil Lesh’s last few years on stage, and he was also a member of the Grateful Dead tribute band assembled for the Grateful Dead 2025 Kennedy Center Honors. Likewise, it never hurts to have Trey Anastasio sit in for a set and collaborate for a tour.

Tuesday’s show opened with “How It Ends” segueing into “Iguana Song.” (Fan site elgoose.net says these newbie songs have only been played live thrice and twice, respectively.) “Flodown,” a bluegrassy romp, included a tease of a few bars from “When the Saints” on Mitarotonda’s guitar. “Borne” drifted into a long improv segment with a vibe akin to a didgeridoo jam before emerging into “One In, One Out.”

The first set ended with the Creedence Clearwater Revival hit “Green River,” perhaps a nod to the Bay Area home of that seminal band. Weekz's bass-slapping was particularly solid on this funkified version. He’s sort of the John Entwistle of the band, über-unanimated in appearance and yet explosive with his bass-y bombs.

Set Two kicked off with “Big Modern!”—or, at least some of it. (Elgoose.net says this song was “unfinished,” and I need to take their word for it, as I am a somewhat underexposed Goosehead.) After morphing into “Creatures” and expending ample shred energy to hype up the audience throughout several jams, things calmed down a bit for “This Old Sea.” This one is a mellow, comfort-food Robert Hunter-esque thing:

Oh my child worry no further
Lay your burden on me
And I will take your every trouble down
To the bottom of this old sea

Following that breather, Goose took flight again for “Atlas Dogs” and “Dripfield.” The jam factor was in high gear. Some of their songs are like waves rolling for miles over the ocean, and when they crash into the shore, the fans feel a headrush of ecstasy. There’s an element of techno groove in Goose, a well-honed sense of slow build, increasing tension, and explosive release.

Ready for another silly Goose metaphor? They’re like a flock of fowl flying high in vee formation. You watch them as they enter your view on the eastern horizon, taking shape and becoming recognizable as individuals as they grow near. Before you realize it, they’re right overhead, and you can see the contour of each feather. You gasp, your breath short! Then, before you know it, they’ve flown out of sight to the west. But now, you spot another vee coming your way. Anticipation builds.

For the encore, Goose busted out “Baby Don’t You Do It,” known to classic-rock fans as a Levon Helm song with The Band. Written by Motown legends Brian Holland, Eddie Holland, and Lamont Dozier for Marvin Gaye (that’s some more esoterica for you), it’s a timeless R&B song, perfect for Goose’s rarefied airspace—an environment chock-full of devotional iconography and musical allusions.

What the heck is a counterculture, and how can I get one started?

Dennis McNally’s The Last Great Dream (Da Capo, 2025) won’t help you recreate the 1960s – that ship has sailed. But McNally’s new book provides a clear-eyed, rear-view mirror exploration of the mid-20^th century counterculture in the United States. From poetry to politics to psychedelic music, McNally covers a wide waterfront; The Last Great Dream is a wild ride full of factoids and true folk tales from far and wide. It’s a fun and informative read for anyone intrigued by the era.

In certain circles, Dennis McNally is best known as the Grateful Dead publicist from the mid-1980s until several years after Jerry Garcia died. He’s also a published historian, with books under his belt about Jack Kerouac, the Grateful Dead, and the evolution of American culture.

The Last Great Dream weaves in Kenneth Rexroth, Mark Rothko, On the Road, Waiting for Godot, Howl, The Village Voice, the free speech movement, the Jefferson Airplane, the Avalon Ballroom, Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, and hundreds more characters, places, events, and creative works. It may seem daunting to explore so many avenues in one book, but McNally does so eloquently, walking a fine line midway between death-by-details and dizzying Dadaism. It’s a worthwhile trip.     

In hindsight, the through line from Duke Ellington to John Cage to Jack Kerouac to Jerry Garcia jamming on “Dark Star” seems obvious and inevitable. (Garcia once said, “I feel like I’m part of a continuous line of a certain thing in American culture, of a root… I can’t imagine myself without that.”) Likewise, there’s a direct lineage from Rexroth to Robert Hunter, and from Jackson Pollock to liquid light shows at The Fillmore. But an observer in the midst of those swirling eddies couldn’t see over the waves; it’s the hindsight from a comfortable perspective decades later that gives McNally an opportunity to tell the tale with a historical perspective. 

The many real-world characters McNally introduces throughout The Last Great Dream range from world famous to unsung, depending on your own level of familiarity with 20th Century intelligentsia, artistry, and politics. Perhaps it’s best to read much of McNally’s book as a Beat poem, living in the moment within each sentence rather than studying the time for a history exam. Especially in the first few chapters, trying to keep up with all the names without running to Wikipedia every few pages might be a fool’s errand. Go with the flow. If you get lost and want help, just turn to the “Glossary of Names” at the end. 

McNally’s research is evident in his writing. His meticulous approach includes numerous quotes from the luminaries and witnesses in The Last Great Dream, interspersed with minutia like specific addresses (Ginsberg once lived at 755 Pine Street) and dates (one of Lenny Bruce’s arrests was on April 3, 1964). The “Bibliography” and “Notes” sections at the end of the book underscore McNally’s devotion to detail and accuracy. There are literally hundreds of documented sources, including over 50 interviews and scores of books, magazine articles, and other citations. I appreciate though that McNally didn’t clutter the main text with endnote numbers, which can make for distracting reading.

It should also be noted that, like any history, the stories in this book are only as reliable as their sources. It’s possible that many of the quotes are themselves colored by the inevitable inaccuracies of recollection. That makes them no less interesting nor worthy of inclusion and gives room for the “poetic license” of assigning connection and causality to various events. McNally owns up to this in his introduction:

Cultural connections and influences are ultimately impossible to prove. Correlation is not causation, but it is often the best available evidence in these matters. I can only promise a scrupulous commitment to fairness. After all, one of the threads in this book is surrealism – which is only one of many rabbit holes that I’ve explored.

McNally’s writing is not encyclopedic or textbooky, nor does Dream read like a Tom Wolfe novel. It’s more of a series of snapshots and Post-It Notes. There is an essence akin to one of those “murder boards” a police detective creates with pieces of string and Sharpie-drawn arrows connecting names and places. It would be fun to read a hyperlinked version where you could bounce around by clicking on names. Likewise, Dream makes for good episodic reading, each chapter standing well on its own as well as in series. 

Perhaps the best thing about McNally’s approach is his penchant for stepping aside and letting his sources speak for themselves. Almost every paragraph has quotes, hundreds of voices in all. We don’t need McNally to reinterpret, for instance, Lawrence Ferlinghetti; the poet’s words stand on their own when he says the West Coast was, “not only the last frontier, but also the place where the Orient begins, where the Far East begins again.” In his role as author, McNally paints an ever-expanding, four-dimensional mural using the colors and shapes given him by those many sung and unsung sources. 

Even so, he does make poignant observations from time to time. For instance, he notes that, “At least initially, drug taking, either in Berkeley or San Francisco, was as much an act of rebellion as of indulgence.“ McNally follows that up with quotes from prominent leaders of the era pretty much saying the same thing (he didn’t pull the notion out of thin air). Later, augmenting that initial conclusion about drug use in the counterculture, McNally writes that Timothy Leary’s Madison Avenue-esque advertising of LSD for mass consumption did “incalculable damage to anything resembling a thoughtful exploration of consciousness.”

Occasionally, the author summarizes his sources succinctly for emphasis; to wit, his comment following a quote from a New York Review of Books commentary on New York City’s Dada folk darlings the Fugs:

In other words, they were funny, but they couldn’t really play.

Stepping back now: just what is this counterculture thing McNally writes about in Dream?

In the years following World War II, San Francisco was a nexus that drew everything that was rejected or ostracized everywhere else: Asian religion and anti-religion, surrealism and sexual freedom, communism and libertarianism, intellectualism, and a uniquely American version of antidisestablishmentarianism. 

Why? Perhaps for no other reason than because it was there — a swath of land surrounding a bay hidden from the Pacific by fog and a narrow inlet. (There was a “there” there, despite what Gertrude Stein said about Oakland.) Even in the mid-20th century, San Francisco was a vast “Outside Land” still undefined and untamed. It was still a frontier in nearly every regard. 

Los Angeles meanwhile was home to a beacon of eternal sunshine that likewise drew creative moths to its celluloid flame. An amalgam of health consciousness, an experiential ethos (this was, after all, the birthplace of Aldous Huxley’s “Doors of Perception”), and artistic appreciation that encompassed the still-novel cinema industry simmered in subculture L.A. like hot summer beach sand. 

And don’t forget (who could forget?) New York City! The pre- and postwar influx of jazz was just one of many organisms blooming in the Petri dish of Gotham. It’s no coincidence that Allen Ginsberg and Jack Kerouac swam in the confluence of bebop and bohemia. You could be anything in New York. And that proposition had many takers. 

In these milieus, the arts in the late ‘40s and early ‘50s were stretching beyond experimentation into realms that required new definitions – or eschewed and obliterated definitions completely. John Cage wrote “4’33,” a three-movement piece devoid of any actual instrumentation. (It’s not a “silent” piece though; listen to the room. There is a “there” there.) Jackson Pollock covered canvases with nothing but drips of paint. Joseph Campbell preached against the superiority of one culture over another – and whether from his writing or via their own sources, a generation of poets, artists, and dreamers learned that walls were for tearing down, rules were for suckers and sheeple, and authenticity demanded not just creativity but also destruction. Shiva was ascendant. 

It’s also worth noting that in those days, nobody was moving to The Village because it was “The Village.” Same with North Beach (or later, the Haight) in San Francisco, and also Venice Beach in Los Angeles. Artists, writers and musicians moved to those places in the ‘50s because rents were cheap and conformity held less currency. And unlike today, with an internet that provides avenues of individualism stemming from every iPhone that wants to be in the map, there were only a few “Villages” and “North Beaches” during the mid-century era, places where flying a proverbial freak flag or exhibiting “deviant” sexual/gender identity was not certain to lead to a jail – or death – sentence.  

This is the fertile but rare earth McNally traverses to introduce The Last Great Dream. People gathering in the few places where they could express themselves – and whether that’s what drew them there or not, express themselves they did.

If there is one distinctive, seminal moment in the history McNally recounts that changed the creative world of “culture,” it might be when Ginsberg first recites “Howl” to an audience at Six Gallery on Fillmore Street. “‘Howl,’” McNally writes, “was a large rock dropped into the still pond of American poetry.” Fellow poet Michael McClure said of that evening in 1955 that they had “gone by of a point of no return…none of us wanted to go back to the gray chill, militarist silence, to the intellectual void.” 

How many of us said something similar after our first acid trip, our first Dead show, our first time meeting people with whom we shared a je ne sais quoi that we’d never experienced at home? (Ironically, as McNally notes, Ginsberg had to go to San Francisco to find an audience that would appreciate his dark poem about a bunch of New Yorkers.)

And if the recitation of “Howl” has a musical counterpart that was equally impactful, it was Bob Dylan playing a short set of electric rock ‘n’ roll at the Newport Folk Festival in 1965. Or maybe it was Bob Dylan turning the Beatles onto marijuana. Or Bob Dylan not playing at Woodstock, but nonetheless, casting his huge shadow over the behemoth festival of delight and disaster that gave its name to a generation. 

The times, they were a changin’. All at once, it seemed. 

And then, almost as soon as things began to bubble, the era crested – well before Woodstock, in fact. In January 1967, McNally notes that San Francisco’s “Great Human Be-In” marked the moment that, “What had been only modestly noticed to that point would now pass into legend via an astonishing media scrum.” The counterculture was no longer exclusively countercultural; for a wide swath of people under 30, it was the culture.  

Ever cynical, Hunter S. Thompson may not have been entirely wrong when he surveyed the scene in the Haight that year and painted a picture of kids flocking to the scene simply because it was a sanctuary where they could (McNally’s words) “withdraw and be stoned.” Perhaps political movements, primarily the anti-war and pro-civil rights, had yet to reach their peak, but the artistic and literary foundations McNally focuses on throughout The Last Great Dream were swiftly becoming mainstream. Or, in the case of poetry, folk music, and explorations of consciousness, were being supplanted by mass consumption of electric guitars and recreational drug use.

It is eerie and frightful being reminded of the rise of the countercultural left in the early 1960s – not because of the left itself, but because the movements that arose were a response to issues that have parallels in today’s presidential administration and Republican party. The late ‘50s and early ‘60s were marked by rightwing attacks on freedom of expression, particularly regarding universities, and by concerted efforts to thwart racial justice and equality. So many decades have passed since, such little progress. 

No wonder then that so many people today long for a revolution. Perhaps we might never again see anything as transformative and impactful as the tidal waves McNally documents in The Last Great Dream. But who can see the future? Dare we dream again?

Coming soon: Gabriel David Barkin interviews Dennis McNally about The Last Great Dream for Grateful Web.

This is the second of two articles about Dennis McNally’s new book The Last Great Dream: How Bohemians Became Hippies and Created the Sixties. The first article, a review of the book, can be found at https://www.gratefulweb.com/articles/last-great-dream-dennis-mcnally-review.

The Last Great Dream (Grand Central Publishing, 2025) might be Dennis McNally’s last great book – if only because it might be the last one he writes. In one sense, it would be a fitting fare-thee-well for McNally’s career as an author. The Last Great Dream is a culmination of sorts, a final summation of a life spent dissecting and digesting the antecedents and outcomes of the 1960s countercultural explosion in America. (Or he might surprise everyone, including himself, and write another book. Watch this space!)

McNally may be best known to Grateful Web readers as the Grateful Dead publicist from the mid-1980s until several years after Jerry Garcia died. While he’s technically a member of the “Baby Boomer” generation that was at the core of the counterculture eruption, McNally himself was not a ’60s hippie. He did not “get on the bus” until a friend took him to his first Grateful Dead show in the early ’70s. So The Last Great Dream is not a firsthand account.

And perhaps that’s what makes this book work so well. McNally is a meticulous researcher. The Last Great Dream is a historical account of the evolution of post-WWII arcane Bohemian artistic and philosophic expression. As an author, McNally mostly tells the story by letting the perpetrators, participants, and witnesses speak. Hundreds of sources, quotes, and citations relate how an esoteric movement morphed – some might say rose, others might say fell – into mainstream pop culture. The result is a multitude of tidbits and tales woven into a narrative that is instructive as much as entertaining.

McNally and I met for a brief conversation a few weeks ago to discuss The Last Great Dream. Shortly after we met, I read a new book by Brian Eno and Bette Adriaanse that summed up my own takeaway about the countercultural roots and outcomes recounted in The Last Great Dream:

“Feelings, especially socially shared ones, guide us towards a sense of what we think is right, but they also guide us away from things. People pay a lot of attention to what other people are thinking, and they start to feel the friction of being not fully in agreement with others. This can arouse feelings of anxiety or triumph . . . but it doesn’t pass unnoticed.” – From What Art Does (Faber & Faber, 2025)

The following interview has been edited for clarity. Accompanying photos are all from The Last Great Dream, courtesy of Dennis McNally.

Gabriel David Barkin (GDB): I read the book, finished it yesterday, and really enjoyed reading it. Tell me why you wrote this book, your fourth book related to what we can broadly call “the counterculture” in America. Why this book, and why now?

Dennis McNally (DM): Why now is because I finished it. [Laughs] As with all of these things, I fell into it.

GDB: That’s sort of how you describe your entire career, isn’t it?

DM: In 1972, I was thinking about a dissertation topic, and I sort of mumbled about the Beats. My friend said, Why don't you do Kerouac? His papers are at Columbia, and you can stay with my friends in the Bronx.

Now, when you're a graduate student – I was at UMass Amherst – and you have no money, and somebody tells you, I got a free bed for you in New York City; that's a big deal. And coincidentally, my parents had, around that time, moved ten miles from where Kerouac was from. So the universe was whispering in my ear, Yeah, this is a project you can do.

My friend was also a Deadhead. I got the disease from him. And the obvious connections of Neal Cassady as Dean Moriarty in On the Road, and then of “Cowboy Neal at the wheel.” I went, Oh, that's my next book, Grateful Dead. I had no clue as to how to approach the band, but I assumed that if I knocked on their door (which I didn't know where it was) and said, You know, hi guys, I want to write a book about you, they would have said, Take a number.

So, long story short, I met Jerry and mentioned the Kerouac book and discovered that On the Road was, like, his Bible. And he liked my version of Kerouac's life. So, eventually, he said, Why don't you do us? To which I said, Good idea.

But then, eventually, I went to work for them. And you can't write an honest history and be the publicist on the same day. So I put it on the shelf. I kept a notebook for, you know, the good lines, the funny ones. And then, finally, in 2002, I put out A Long Strange Trip [Crown Books, 2003].

And then I did a book on the further background of what bumps young white kids out of conventional American culture and into some kind of alternative – which, generally speaking, ends up being what we call Bohemia. Which is to say, in America, we talk about freedom all the time as the great American value. But there's two obvious kinds of freedom. There's one that says you're free to make the most money you possibly can, which is the conventional idea of American freedom – you know, our current president, for instance.

And the other, in contrast, is the idea of complete freedom of thought. My favorite person on the planet is Thoreau. He's not a Bohemian in that, first, as far as anybody knows, he was a virgin to the day he died; and second, he never drank. However, nobody was better at thinking unconventionally.

You take it from there, and it flowers, most emphatically, in the ’60s.

I was interviewing Michael McClure, the poet, and I said, Why did On the Road have such an amazing impact? And he sort of looked at me – you know, big stop in the conversation – and he says, Dennis, did you live in the ’50s?! Well, technically yes, I was ten when it ended. But the point he was making was about the level of oppression, of repression, of self-suppression. That was an era in which [the television show] Father Knows Best was kind of accepted as reality, and the values were so limited. On the Road caused this explosion amongst youth because it was the first time anybody had offered them an alternative in ages.

GDB: That perspective is often missed by younger generations. My mother gave me a copy of On the Road when I was in college in the ’80s, and I loved it. But I didn't have that perspective that McClure was talking about – that when it was brand new, like when rock and roll was brand new, it was revolutionary. It was insurgent. There were also elements of that when punk rock was brand new, when rap was brand new. But maybe nothing like what was going on in the ’50s and ’60s, the eras you write about in your new book. And we’ll talk about why that was in a moment.

But first, before you wrote about Kerouac in grad school and then got into the Grateful Dead scene, did you actually experience any of this stuff that we're talking about – that stuff we broadly call counterculturalism or Bohemian? Was that part of your life in the ’60s?

DM: I graduated high school in ’67. That winter, I was sitting in the public library looking at Life magazine, and there was a picture of Jerry [Garcia] – the picture of Jerry in his Uncle Sam hat at the Human Be-In. And I sort of went, Oh, that's interesting. I mean, it was interesting enough to register on my mind, even though I hadn't heard the music yet. The album came out in March, and I didn't hear it till that fall in college.

So the answer – my theory for why I have devoted so much time in my adult life, half of my adult life, to writing these books – is that I missed it all.

I was just a college kid, and then a graduate student. It wasn't the same. I've been trying to catch up ever since.

GDB: Sure, I think a lot of us Deadheads have been doing the same thing. I saw my first Dead show in 1980, but so much of what captivated me didn't hit until about my fifth show in Ventura when I camped out on the beach with thousands of Deadheads. All of a sudden, I kind of got the gist of the culture, and it resonated with me in part because of my romanticized notions, as a late-to-the-party hippie, of the ’60s scene that I’d read so much about – the good stuff, anyway. A scene for which I was too young. But then I found that part of that “thing” was still alive on Dead tour.

So let’s talk about your exploration of the ’40s and ’50s in The Last Great Dream. Radio was booming nationwide, and then television came along. There was mass consumption and consumerism sold not just by advertising, but also because almost everybody in the country, for the first time in history, was experiencing a shared version of “reality.”

How does that feed into the narrative in your new book, from the post-war era through, let's say, the Monterey Pop Festival? Why was that period so ripe for laying the groundwork that led to a massive cultural revolution?

DM: There's a wonderful image – the cover of The Saturday Evening Post. A 1950s young couple, engaged to be married (white, of course), are sitting under a tree on a summer night daydreaming. And what are they daydreaming about? A freezer, a dishwasher – appliances that had not existed before the ’50s. There was an incredible boost in prosperity in the ’50s, so you were able to afford all these things. By the end of the decade, almost everyone had a television.

Television existed to sell advertising and encourage consumerism. It would reach the point of worshiping consumerism. This was the great privilege of being an American: you got all this stuff. And the only catch was, you kept your mouth shut. There was no divergence of opinion at that time.

People didn't really know much about communism at all – you know, “Kill commies!” And this connects to the present day like crazy. “Commies” were anti-Christian. You did not get into that stuff if you were smart; you avoided talking about that sort of thing.

We've now got outright Christian nationalists who think that the separation of church and state in the Constitution – oh, that's not what they really meant. Really? Can you read? How about “Congress shall not…”?

Back in that post-war period, there was this incredible upsurge after a horrendous depression and then a war that had consumed everyone's life for five, six years. You finally got this “happy time” and this peace, and there's prosperity. By contrast to what came before, it was extreme. And you had all these goodies, and you had credit cards that allowed you to get them and not have to save up for them. There's a definite shift in values from being thrifty to get what you want; you deserve it, even if you can't afford it.

GDB: So conformity was king, and consumption was the way to show allegiance. But not everybody played the game.

Reading in The Last Great Dream about the ’40s and ’50s in particular, a lot of the countercultural people you interviewed and wrote about were lesbian, gay, bisexual. Many of these people moved to San Francisco, New York, and Los Angeles; they weren't from there, they came there from somewhere else. Do you think they were driven to come to a place where they were going to be part of something new (the Bohemian counterculture) and wanted to express themselves artistically? Was that part of the plan, so to speak – to proactively upset the apple cart of conformity and consumerism and create something new? Or was it that they just needed to leave where they were?

In other words, did the people make the place, or did the place make the people? How do you see that dynamic?

DM: Well, the place welcomed the people. It's very hard to be diversionary, sexually or whatever, in rural America – everybody knows your business. It's difficult. But there's an inherent amount of sophistication in a city, particularly, say, in New York and San Francisco: everybody doesn't know your business, and there's a certain amount of freedom to explore who you are.

San Francisco was the model for this. Remember, San Francisco was not created as a business enterprise, which is what most cities are about ultimately. It was created by a bunch of whacked-out losers – people who were failures on the East Coast of the United States, or Chile, or Canton. They came to San Francisco to chase gold; they were gamblers. As a consequence of all this, the conventional values got left behind at the passport line.

The best story of all this is a guy named Emperor Norton. [In the late 1850s in San Francisco] Emperor Norton goes bonkers and declares himself “emperor.” He's a street crazy – every city has street crazies. What made San Francisco different was he started printing out his own money – “Emperor Norton banknotes” – and the people in the bars and the restaurants of San Francisco accepted them. Now, that's pretty crazy – crazier than him being crazy. And the reason they accepted it is because that was San Francisco.

And sexually, well, as late as the 1880s and ’90s, the city was still, like, 80 percent all male. It took a long time for the balance to be the conventional 50-50. Prostitution was effectively legal, both gay and straight.

[Much later in the city’s history] “hippie” introduced the idea that guys were wearing long hair and girls were wearing pants. The expectations of gender got scrambled. Just a few years after “hippie,” you've got Castro Street becoming the Valhalla of gay life in America.

GDB: In the book, you touch on all that. You also give a bit of history about the Compton’s Cafeteria riot in San Francisco, which preceded the world-famous Stonewall riot in New York – which is often (somewhat inaccurately) cited as the foundational moment in the LGBTQ rights movement. Three years earlier, a group of transgender women stood up to harassment by police in an all-night restaurant in the Tenderloin. That was an unprecedented moment of trans resistance to police violence, and it was a reflection of both the presence of sexual and gender-identity life in San Francisco as well as the will to fight for individual rights reflected in the political sphere.

That’s just one area where you touch on politics in The Last Great Dream. There’s also a good summary of the free-speech movement in Berkeley in particular, and some discussion of the anti-war movement. You included a lot of material about civil rights, which was one of the few political upheavals of the era that did not take root initially in San Francisco or New York City.

But the way I read your book, I felt your focus was primarily on the aspect of counterculturalism that encompasses the arts, intellectualism, and individualism versus conformity. You wrote mostly (though not exclusively) about the social aspect of this period of history rather than the political – even though, of course, the two are inseparably conjoined. Were you particularly focused on culture over politics? Was that purposeful when you approached the book?

DM: Well, it wasn't purposeful or thought out. All of those decisions were made, metaphorically, at the typewriter. I didn't know what I was doing; nothing was planned in advance. I finally located my beginning with Duncan and Rexroth in 1942. Eventually – very much later – I found my ending with Monterey [the music festival]. There was a way to write it so that all these forces came together, and psychedelic music is certainly more cultural than political.

The Republican Party changed E Pluribus Unum to In God We Trust in the 1950s. That's a very political event and real evidence of what was going on, so I talk about that, and then, of course, about the free-speech movement and the civil-rights movement. But to most people, that stuff is less important than the daily grind of getting and spending and feeding yourself and your family and so forth. I tried to get everything in – all kinds of impacts – so you have what people saw on television, what they were getting in their music, and then the impact of ’50s rock and roll, and then folk music, which was inherently political.

The end result is what you get, and that is primarily culture. The politics come in as the context for the culture. It obviously has an impact, but in the end, it's the social realities of daily life that, as a historian, I'm primarily concerned with.

GDB: I love that you ended with Monterey because it was the culmination of this entire countercultural explosion. By the time of Monterey, Haight Street was being overrun by runaways and money-making ventures, becoming something both more and less than what came before. The counterculture was, in a way, becoming the culture, at least for the young generation. Even so, Monterey was a reflection of the best elements of the counterculture that had produced it – great music and art, a peaceful gathering of people celebrating individualism and revolutionary creativity. And yet, it was also the prototype for music festivals that became, over the ensuing decades, a huge, highly commercialized industry. The irony is rich.

Take the Grateful Dead, for instance – or, more specifically, their legacy in terms of Dead & Company. My Facebook feed is full of people saying, “Oh, these 60th-anniversary shows should be free.” Other people are defending the price and the notion that all musicians deserve to earn a living, and the old idea of lambasting people for “selling out” is an archaic value. In a way, that conversation is a microcosm of the discussion about whether the counterculture became the culture.

I mean, when the Grateful Dead are celebrated with Kennedy Center Honors, and Al Gore, our former Vice President, had a poster of the Dead in one of his offices – can we say the Dead are still part of something we once called the “counterculture”?

Where is the counterculture today?

DM: If you have a home computer. If you take yoga. If you eat organic food. If you have concerns about the environment. If you want to defend trans people. Well, that's a good start. The cultural impact has seeped into our lives.

I teach this high-school class periodically – I do lectures – and these kids are studying the ’60s in high school because they're interested in it. I keep telling them that the reason they're studying this is because it's still part of their lives. These are issues that haven't gone away, won't go away. And, in particular, in a very negative way, these issues are more sharply in focus now. We have a president who wants to attack and dismiss the reality of literally a million people who are not conforming to his notion of male and female.

GDB; What's next for you?

DM; I don't have a clue. I have said this is my last book. I'm 75, and I take ten years to write a book. I don't know if I've got the energy, and I don't know of a topic. If I find a smaller topic that I could do quickly, I would. But right now, I don't have it.

I've had a wonderful response to this book. There’s a bit of a buzz about it. There's plenty of dumb stuff hippies did in there, or whatever. I like to think it’s good history and sympathetic – but not goo-goo-eyed.

The High Sierra Music Festival (HSMF) returns to Quincy, CA, for yet another spectacular Fourth of July weekend of music and magic on July 3-6. Discounted 4-day tickets are now available (see below for a code). There are also options for “FestivAll” VIP experiences, “glamping” tent rentals, single-day tickets, RV parking, and more.

As always, High Sierra will present a wide variety of bluegrass, jam, Americana, funk, folk, and worldbeat acts. This year’s lineup includes Molly Tuttle, Lyrics Born, ALO, Dogs in a Pile, Daniel Donato’s Cosmic Country, and rising superstar Grace Bowers & The Hodge Podge. And then there’s John Craigie, The Slip, Mikaela Davis, Steve Poltz, and a very special appearance by Amy Helm and the (Levon) Helm Midnight Family Ramble.

Producer David Margulies is thrilled to welcome HSMF veterans and newcomers. “Our incredibly talented and dedicated team is working with renewed energy to make sure we deliver the kind of unforgettable experience that has defined High Sierra for over 30 years.” (And don’t believe the rumors—Margulies assures us that HSMF25 is NOT canceling!)

If you don’t know what you’re doing in early July, we’ve got ten reasons for you to jump on the HSMF bandwagon.

1) HSMF is the ONLY camp-out music festival west of the Rockies on Fourth of July weekend this year. It’s the perfect escape from the stress of “real life” in these uncertain times. You can count on experiencing the magic of a High Sierra parade, feeling the mellow vibe melding HS “lifers” and newbies, and hearing a mélange of musical styles from over 60(!) incredible performers. Plus, where else are you gonna find a kickball game at dawn where you can play with pianist extraordinaire Holly Bowling?

2) It’s all about YOU! HSMF producer Margulies sums it up: “It's about the people. Everybody brings something of themselves to the festival, and that is what collectively raises the bar to create the magic.” From the campgrounds to the stage, HSMF attendees, musicians, volunteers, vendors, and everyone else contribute to making each HSMF a treasured memory.

3) But it’s also about the music! This year will feature a new stage, providing even more music than ever before. The new, indoor Lagniappe Lounge will have a full performance lineup each day running alongside the well-established Grandstand Stage, Vaudeville Tent, and Big Meadow Stage.

The only stress is musical FOMO! You can’t possibly see every performance. But it always works out, because wherever you are, it’s all so good. Margulies, who is as much a live-music fan as the rest of us, summed up the festival experience perfectly: “You do that whole journey with FOMO, but then you get to a place where you're in deep appreciation for what you DO get to see.” And there is nothing but good stuff to see and hear at HSMF!

4) Unique musical collaborations. You never know who will jump on stage to jam with an act at HSMF! Also, don’t miss the HSMF “Playshops,” one-of-a-kind showcases for musicians who typically do not perform with each other. Playshops often revolve around unconventional and offbeat themes, artist tributes, and alternative genre explorations. See the full lineup at https://www.highsierramusic.com/playshops

One of this year’s Playshops will delight fans hungry for anything related to Phish and Trey Anastasio; four members of Trey Anastasio Band (drummer Russ Lawton, keyboardist Ray Paczkowski, trumpeter Jennifer Hartswick, and trombonist Natalie Cressman) will perform a set of improvisational jams with JRAD’s Scott Metzger and others on Sunday in the air-conditioned High Sierra Music Hall.

5) Beat the heat. It’s too soon to say for sure, but the weather outlook for Quincy on the Fourth of July weekend this year is not daunting. Still, HSMF is adding more shade structures on the Grandstand Meadow and elsewhere. The Grandstand Stage, High Sierra’s largest venue, is also starting its programming later in the day to avoid the hottest hours. And the smaller High Sierra Music Hall (home of the Playshops) and new Lagniappe Lounge stage are in air-conditioned buildings.

6) The Third Mind. Psychedelic rock that will blow your mind with a heavy flavor of Quicksilver Messenger Service and 1960s Grateful Dead. Don’t miss the shredding lead guitars by Dave Alvin (The Blasters) and Mark Karan (The Other Ones, RatDog). Camper Van Beethoven bassist Victor Krummenacher is no slouch either.

7) Grace Bowers and The Hodge Podge. Don’t be fooled by her age. Bowers may be only 19 years old when she makes her premiere on the High Sierra stage, but she wields a blues axe with startling force and creativity. Singer Esther Okai Tetteh is equally stunning.

HSMF Director of Operations Theresa Hayle says, “High Sierra is where headliners get discovered!” This set is destined to be one of those experiences—don’t miss this chance to see Grace Bowers and the Hodge Podge on a small stage before they blow up big time.

8) Helm Family Midnight Ramble. This will be the first time Amy Helm presents a session of the famed Midnight Ramble, a tradition begun by her father, Levon (the revered drummer and vocalist for The Band), outside of the family compound in Woodstock, NY. Just another example of the intimate, unique experiences HSMF delivers every year.

9) Everything else. Costume themes. Kids’ activities and babysitting services. Great food. Arts, crafts, and clothing vendors. Yoga. Silent disco. Glamping. Local public pool. Clean mountain air. Top-notch lighting and sound. Multiple stages. Intimate troubadour sessions. Warm hospitality from the Quincy community (please support local merchants!). And best of all, the HSMF family—which includes you!

10) Tickets and discounts. Visit https://www.highsierramusic.com/ for ticket options (including 4-day and single-day passes, RV and glamping options, and late-night shows). The 4-day passes, which include onsite tent camping, can be purchased at a discount using this code: 15Sierra

If you’re within driving distance of the Catskills in New York (or even if you need to use some of those frequent-flyer miles!), head just north of Woodstock on Saturday, June 28, for Marco Benevento’s fourth annual “Follow the Arrow” festival.

Keyboardist and vocalist Benevento (Joe Russo’s Almost Dead, Phil Lesh & Friends, and countless other projects) is just one of many acts on this family-friendly day-long event. Say She She will be there with their hypnotic harmonies and infectious disco grooves. Azymuth will get the summertime crowd dancing with a Brazilian jazz-funk groove.

Benevento promises that “Follow the Arrow” will be “a great day of music with some new friends.” “Traditionally, I’ve brought in longtime collaborators. This time, it’s a bunch of new homies.” Those new homies also include Brainstory, a fusion of soul, jazz, and psych-rock with a timeless feel, and Cochemea, billed as “a sonic journey weaving jazz, electronic, and experimental sounds.”

“It’s a whole new crew,” Benevento says, “and everyone is so talented. I’m hoping to connect scenes in a new way.” Humbly, he adds, “This is the fourth year, and we’re still learning what it means to run a festival.”

DJ sets (including one by El Michels Affair) and storytelling are also part of the scene. The bill also promises “a uniquely immersive experience with live art, vibrant visuals.” When asked about those “vibrant visuals,” Benevento was coy about what to expect. “There are a lot of cooks in the kitchen.” With the quality music on tap, the bar is high indeed for equally creative visuals.

A performance by the Benevento Family Band will kick off the day. That’s part of the magic for Benevento. “I love that I can bring out all my cousins, aunts, uncles, and my dad. Every year, they look forward to it. We love playing together, but we don’t see each other as often now with kids and life. We always play first, around 2 PM when the gates open, and maybe 35 people see us—but it’s worth it.”

This is the first time “Follow the Arrow” will be held at Griffin House in Palenville, NY, which is owned by Benevento’s friend and fellow musician Simon Felice from the Felice Brothers. Benevento is thrilled about the new location. “They’ve got a great spot. I’m psyched to move the fest here. I mean, it’s called ‘Follow the Arrow’—I could see doing it at a different place every year! We even talked about moving it to the West Coast next year.” (Your humble author says, “Yes, please!”)

Follow the music. Follow the energy. Follow the Arrow.

For more information and tickets, visit https://www.tixr.com/e/132329.