rollin', rollin', rollin', keep those good times rollin'
the secret to full tilt boogey for 4 straight days?
smoke and mirrors, baby, smoke and mirrors . . .
to say that saturday at the fest was more of the same would not do it justice. let's just say it was more.
more food, more friends, more fun. more.
of course, after a few days, everything does start to blend together. especially when you're trying to recount the trip to people a week later.
even the pictures do not help that much. especially when you're wearing the same outfit in each shot.
we again scored some primo real estate on saturday, setting ourselves up nicely for the day's festivities.
by your third day at the fest, catching up with the extended posse at base camp starts to feel like the sweetest of reunions. everybody's got war stories from the night before, and everybody's earned their stripes enough to garner madd respec. a few knowing nod's, some chillin' "hey bro"s, and it's ON again.
another noticeable difference by saturday is that everyone's got their timing down. you know when to dart to the bathroom. you know when to hit the beer tent. you know how to get to the congo stage. and you know where to find your favorite dish.
music line-up saturday was superb yet again. things started rolling with anders osborne playing on the acura stage along with big chief monk boudreaux followed by the always smokin' funky meters.
wildcard of the weekend had to go to LL Cool J on the congo stage. jazz fest's got range!!!
widespread panic closed things out and brought the house down. their whole set was tight, but their cut of Space Wrangler was surreal. and then they pulled out Aint Life Grand for the encore. perfect.
no sunday shows for us this year, so when we packed it up after widespread, that was it.
sentimentality reigned as we slid from the fairgrounds for the last time this year. the place is just magic, and you leave with the hope that you'll be able to do the pilgrimage again next year.
pen the epilogue as it suits. shell fest, F & M club, karl denson . . . it was all good.
we returned home with cheshire grins on our faces and full charges in our souls.
ahhh, dearest jazz fest, until we meet again . . .