Musical Monday at Mojo

It's the last day of Bluesfest.  How did that happen?  It seems only yesterday we were hopping aboard our first bus ride to Tyagarah Tea Tree Farm for opening night with Kendrick Lamar and the hip-hop crew.  It was suddenly Easter Monday and the end was only eight hours away.  But what an eight hours.

First up ~ a solo Taj Mahal!  Any festival that includes Taj is way ahead immediately.  Bluesfest labels itself Australia's Premier Blues & Roots Music Festival and if anyone is both Blues and Roots, it is Taj Mahal.  To quote the Byron Shire Echo he was "famous for nearly singlehandedly reshaping the definition and scope of the blues, via the infusion of exotic sounds from the Caribbean, Africa and South Pacific" and had been performing for over 50 years!  As to his performance, you couldn't help but be mesmerised by his presence as he sang and growled his way through "Fishing Blues" and Sonny Boy Williamson's "Checking Up On My Baby".  A quick tuning and a tip of his cowboy hat and off into another great story.  As James remarked, his current fave Mac DeMarco has obviously been heavily influenced by Taj.  Imitation is the greatest form of flattery and it appears his influence resonates to this day.

OMG!  The infatuation is now full-blown.  Alabama sextet St Paul and The Broken Bones are on their first visit to Australia capturing the soul of Otis Redding, and have captured us.  Presenting a set of blue-eyed soul, their live shows during Bluesfest have been incredible.  Friday, Saturday and now Monday, the buzz has been "Have You seen St Paul and The Broken Bones?."  Great songs from their debut album Half The City interspersed by some incredible covers including Sam Cooke's "Shake" and Otis' "I've Been Lovin' You (Too Long)".

What a band ~ a fantastic horn section supporting the rhythm section led by the unlikely but charismatic Paul Janeway, who has been described as everything from an IT geek with Otis voice to a plump accountant with a shoe fetish.  Today's performance went beyond the earlier shows where Paul gyrated, throwing his suit jacket and shoes over, at and into his drummer.  Half way through the evening show, he gingerly eased himself down off the stage all the while yelling for more and more microphone lead.  Surely he's not going to get down into that!  Without missing a beat or any reduction in power and passion, his progress through the adoring crowd was lit by a posse of phones, his bejewelled shoes sinking into the stinking black morass of Jambalaya.  Fantastic!  Upon completion, he re-emerged onto the stage his cheeks and fingers smeared with gunk.  This is a man of the people, unafraid of getting down and dirty!

"We need another beer", said James.  "I'll be back soon".  Bad move.  St Paul's cover of the Beatles "She's so Heavy" had finished by the time James returned.  I hadn't seen James so downcast since Saturday night when we heard The Raiders had blown the home game against The Titans.  "I love their version of that song."  Please come back St Paul.

Clutching my beer and catching my breath, I left James and headed down the midway to the Juke Joint where Scotland's Shooglenifty were making their final appearance.  What the...?  Have I fallen down a Hobbit hole and emerged at Canberra's National Folk Festival?; for a rag-tag bunch of performers were playing a heady stew of music that had the good size crowd reeling.  Described in the free Official Program as originators of "Acid Croft", a fiery and infectious blend of celtic traditional music and dance grooves, their potent brand of fun was hitting the spot.  It would appear my solitary immobile stance (not counting toe tapping) was just not on, for a rather attractive 30 something slid her arm about me and implored me to dance.  Yes, Mam!  Who doesn't love Bluesfest .

The long and winding road

The Pacific Highway.  Where to start this Odyssey?  In our case, at the Ewingsdale junction ~ the scene of many bus trips to Bluesfest this past week.

Relax, enjoy the journey, look at the lush vegetation.  You've got all afternoon and Port Macquarie is not too far down the coast.  Half an hour into the trip we encounter our first patch of roadwork near Wardell.  80 Ahead......  60.......  40.......  Where are the roadworks?.  Well, there's a bloke in a fluro vest over there draining the sump of a council truck.  60......  80.......  End of roadwork.  "Look there,  there's dual-lanes up ahead."  "The 80kph limit should finish soon."  Nope!  For the next 30 minutes we drove at 80kph on a modern NSW dual lane highway until the next bit of road-work just past Woodburn.  Slow down, Roadworks ~ Speed Limits Will Be Enforced.  60........ 40.........

It appears the NSW Minister for Transport got a load of speed signs for Christmas and boy! Was he going to share that gift with us.  Frequent signs notified drivers that Speed-T-Cams were Managing Speed and Fatigue.  Now that's just overkill!.  Minister Duncan Gay's festive gift has responsible road use under control.  80.......  60.......  40.........

"I'm getting hungry and tired, let's stop at Grafton, maybe pubs are still serving a late lunch."  It's remarkable how memories of difficult traffic conditions come flooding back once confronted by them.  "Shit!, There's that terrible roundabout in South Grafton that we sat at 2 years ago".  A quick U-turn and we were back at the T-Junction with the Pacific Highway we had gingerly coped with a minute before.  Vehicles came and went from left and right.  Minutes passed.  Finally a gap appeared ~ Coff's Harbour, here we come.

"Urunga welcomes careful drivers."  Turn right for the town centre.  The Pacific Highway was chokers through Coff's and not even the offer of "Authentic Tapas" at initially the Toreador, and then at the Matador motels could entice us from the highway of destiny.  What's another 30 kilometres at this stage.  Urunga was an oasis with the town centre accessed by a secondary road that lead under a bridge, up a hill and around the bend.  We parked the car in a fifteen minute limit space and walked towards the enticing sign "Fish and Chips".  Closed.  The cafe next door was in a similar state of preparedness, and I was only cheered by a fluro clad tradie wrapping his laughing gear around a juicy burger.  We walked along the street towards a posse of school kids bunched about a shop entrance.  Inside an old farmer in moleskins and an Akubra was ordering a coffee.  "....and could you put a piece of chocolate in it like last time please Doris."  "Sure love, I know what you like."  "What's that? You know I don't hear too well anymore."  " One coffee with chocolate coming up".  Doris yelled.  "Righto, thanks.  I'll be outside."

"What will you folks have then?".  "One snapper and chips, and one flathead and chips please."  "Oh, and I will have a Solo and Kim will have a Schweppes lemon, lime and bitters thanks."  "I'll just go and get the car and bring it up here, I don't want to get booked."  Was that a faint chuckle from Doris?
"Have you travelled far yet?"  "Yes, We have just been to the Byron Bay Bluesfest and are headed for Port."  "Oh well, that's not too far now.  I heard you had a bit of rain."  "Yes, lucky I took my gumboots, my son found them very useful."  Chuckle.  Following Doris' directions towards the facilities and lakeside park, we hopped in the car and did a U-ie.  If Urunga needs a new mayor, I know just the person.

Parked opposite the beautifully presented Ocean View Hotel est 1927, we took our food down to a shaded picnic table located next to the camping ground.  Top shelf tents replete with banks of solar panels were parked just near sparkling 4 wheel drives sporting fishing rods.  Another bunch of kids nearby were doing their best to scare away any fish they were attempting to catch.  An increasing flock of Ibis were greedily circling our table.  Yum!  I'll bet Doris comes from a long line of fish and chip shop operators.  My flathead was delicious!.

Special Saturday

"Who's coming with me."  "Nah, We're going later."  "OK, I'll see you in there."  Clutching my roadie, I headed off to the bus so I could catch The Decemberists at Mojo.

Storm clouds had been building along with the humidity and I could feel perspiration dripping down my back.  Oregon's favourite indie folk rock band were back headed by leader Colin Meloy.  While The Decemberists figurehead mightn't exactly fit the rockstar mould, the band's popularity is hard to ignore.  So it shouldn't have been a surprise to me when the four nut cases in front of me went nuts!  Their album "The Hazards of Love" a tale of pregnancy, murder and shape shifting has occasionally accompanied a late night port by the fire, however, I wouldn't have thought it would go down so well in festive Byron.

Every Bluesfest an artist emerges that just blows you away, and at the 2016 Bluesfest that is St Paul and The Broken Bones.  Today's description, care of a tie-dyed baby boomer, was an accountant with a shoe fetish.  Around about the second song of the set that said sequinned shoe soared over the drummers' head and was soon followed by his suit jacket.  Capturing the spirit of Otis Redding they represent the new generation of blue-eyed soul.  Singer Paul Janeway channels Otis's voice and James Brown's stage presence but remains completely individual.  More please!!

Surprisingly, Saturday night wasn't the most attractive of Bluesfest's five nights, with a number of repeat performances at Mojo by D'Angelo and the hip hop crowd.  At Crossroads, The Mick Fleetwood Blues Band were playing the same earlier set we had enjoyed on Friday replete with Mick's entertaining history lesson on the British Blues bands I had grown up with.  Things were going on swimmingly when crash, bang, wallop!, down came the rain.  As photographed earlier by my cousin SueEllen who resides near Lismore, the inky black clouds dumped 50ml on Tyagarah in a very short time.  Those thousands of gumboots will finally get an outing.

The previously dry and dusty grass in the 5 Seeds bar was engulfed by a tsunami causing the crowd to clump together on the bar's duckboards.  When the rain stopped, we gingerly made our way out through the sodden Bluesfest crowd in search of surer footing.  "Hey, let's go down to the Juke Joint."  "I want to check out the Residents."  "Who?" quizzed Kim and James.  "You know, that legendary avant-garde performance group who have kept their identity secret for over 40 years by hiding their true identities behind masks including giant eyeball heads, and are currently answering to Randy, Chuck and Bob."  "Oh, that Residents" they responded.  We lasted one minute.

Steve Earle and the Dukes were on again at Jambalaya, as we farewelled Alicia on her quest for the hip hop/modern jazz/urban R'n'B Nivana that was Mojo.

Good Friday Grooves

It was like calcium carbonate and ambrosia comparing last night's offering of "Contemporary#" artists to tonight's value-packed program. Sure, there were artists and bands who could be lumped in with the Kendricks and  D'Angelos of last night, but Good Friday's program had much wider appeal.
# Bluesfest's description.

James and I arrived just as Graham Nash made his entrance at Crossroads with former Springsteen sideman Shane Fontayne.  Steamy conditions more suited to swamp fox Tony Joe White warmed the audience as Graham opened with "a song from last century" ~ Bus Stop!  "I didn't know he was in The Hollies" exclaimed James, furthering his education.  It would be one of those days that made you love Bluesfest all the more.

Three songs from his new album "This Path Tonight" nestle in between Nash's earlier compositions including "Marrakesh Express", "Cathedral" and "Immigration Man".  The background to the latter was amusing: CSNY were passing through UK Customs and an officious bureaucrat passed Stills, Young and even The Cros through before preventing Graham from entering his homeland.  "What the....?".  More celebrity tales ensued with the story of how He and Joni were shopping and she saw a vase in a shop window that would be perfect for the flowers they bought that day.  "Our House" was followed by "Chicago" and "Teach Your Children".  A memorable performance with more than one grown man later admitting he had tears in his eyes.

Jeff Tweedy (Wilco) was next up on Crossroads and kicked off with some serious sonic disturbance powered by his band including son Spencer on drums.  His long ranging set included a solo acoustic portion that provided background to the family reuniting just outside a drinks tent with fellow Canberran Mark O'Brien, who, like daughter Alicia, was enjoying his first 'fest.  Next up, St Paul and The Broken Bones.  Who?....

Only the STARS of Bluesfest 2016!.  James takes up the story:

"Mmm gurl. St Paul. What a voice!."  He reminded me of an American Idol contestant.  You know, the type of contestant who on first viewing isn't exactly appealing to the eyes.  But man oh man, once they start singing, they're suddenly the best-looking person in the room.  Think your stout IT geek, mixed with the voice of Otis Redding and you get St Paul.  Close your eyes and you would have thought it was the great Otis himself.  Let's not forget about St Paul's fabulous backing band, with the brass section particularly on point.  A great melting pot of Soul and RnB originals straight out of Birmingham Alabama, mixed with a couple of fantastic covers ~ "Shake" by Sam Cooke and "She's So Heavy!" by the Beatles.  St Paul and the Broken Bones were definitely my Friday night highlight.
Thanks James!

The National in Mojo were delivering, but a 30 metre deep mosh pit is simply not my scene.  Rather, the next destination must be back at Crossroads to see the Mick Fleetwood Blues Band.

For some, Bluesfest is getting in early, picking a seat, storing your luggage/food/drinks/blanket/crystals etc and getting nice and comfy so you can stare at a screen just like in the cinema.  Getting down up front with the singing, dancing and sweating hoi poli is not their thing.  We, however, like to move about checking out the stages at the dark end of the street.  Tex Perkins (and his Ape) were doing their thang at Delta, sending a frisson of uncertainty down the spines of the uninitiated.  "How you doin'?", Tex enquired.  "Boy!  This is some Bluesfest ~ something here for everyone."  Pause.  "The Residents?...... Really??........ Wow! Who booked them???.  He must be a shill for the legendary experimental avant-garde currently answering to Randy, Chuck and Bob.  Tick, another notch on my schedule!

Across to the tiny Juke Joint for Chain and their Robert Johnson fixation before dropping into Jambalaya where The Wailers were performing their album "Uprising".  Fantastic, just as good as last night, and probably just as great tomorrow.  The bus line was getting rowdy as we wearily joined the queue for the trip back home. Au revoir.

Hip-Hop Holy Thursday

Thursday night loomed large at Bluesfest as premier stage Mojo was turned over to the contemporary sounds of urban RnB, a move to attract the younger aficionados and fans of Grammy winner Kendrick Lamar, D'Angelo, Kamais Washington and our own Hiatus Kayote.  To emphasise the significance of the occasion, daughter Alicia likened tonight to my seeing The Beatles.  Hmmm...
As subsequently reported to my friend Barry McGloin, a fellow Bluesfest tragic, that tonight Mojo was not quite my cup of tea with melody replaced by 'tude and way too much motherf.......

Like a country rube wandering the State Fair goggle-eyed, I dipped in and out of various stalls and stages window-shopping their contents.  Juke Joint featured stalwarts Chain, Eugene 'Hideaway' Bridges and gem of a blues pianist Lucky Peterson.  He was entertaining  a small crowd hardly commensurate with his talent, the usual Thursday night crowd vacuumed up by Mojo's headliners.  Nearby big brother venue Crossroads was partially filled as the Cold War Kids presented their indie pop, followed by the classy, if slightly indulgent Tedeschi Trucks Band.  I caught a little of Mali blues band Songhoy Blues with their unique take on the blues, and up and coming Rhiannon Giddings who is garnering exceptionally good revues.  I would have stayed, however my appetite was insisting I search for forgotten sustenance from the always inviting Crossroads food hall.

Past festivals have convinced me Jambalaya is just about my favourite stage, and tonight was no exception where The Wailers were playing album "Exodus" in its entirety, the first of three successive performances that would include "Uprising" tomorrow night and "Survival" on Saturday.  As I entered the tent "Jammin'", a crowd pleaser if there ever was one kicked in and I was soon getting down along with the crowd.  Original Wailer Aston 'Family Man' Barrett, topped with an ancient dreadlock crown, laid down a seriously pure chunky reggae groove for the new lineup led by singer Dwayne Anglin who channeled Bob Marley.  So great, we will return.

On The Road Again to Bluesfest

Like a two bob watch or a politicians' promise, Bluesfest and it's gym buddy Easter has again arrived irregularly.  Five days of fun, feasting and music await.

Our trek north from the nations'capital has proved yet again that the journey is as vital and enjoyable as Bluesfest itself.  We committed early in our planning to drive the 1000 plus kilometres instead of flying, but chose an internal route rather than that stressful beast ~ the Pacific Highway.  Departing Canberra late morning, we travelled to Cowra where we lunched on sambos washed down with a cuppa ~ "Where's the fruit cake?".  On to school-exiting Bathurst and our destination Mudgee.  As more road works temporarily blocked our way, we turned right into historic Sofala, Australia's oldest surviving gold-rush town.  "Great, there's a pub, I'm parched", any excuse will do.  "A glass of your finest Chardonnay and a schooner of Toohey's Old, Thanks."

Ben, mine host at the Gungegong Valley Motel, suggested I top up with cheap fuel as Easter was approaching and it's boon companion price-gouging was awakening.  Seeking sage culinary advice I approached old school friend Paul Marshall, an expert on Mudgee's hospitality.  "Whatever you do, don't drink and drive ~ the cops are deadly".  Despite Paul's faint disapproval, we walked into central Mudgee and dined at The Court House Hotel opposite the cop shop.  My never-ending search for a pepper sauce that rivals Kim's remains, however it wasn't bad with the rare inclusion of green peppercorns gracing the gravy boat of sauce.  We complimented our hostess Amanda on the meal and the robust local Shiraz she suggested and found that she and Kim shared North Shore roots having both grown up in Pymble.

A leisurely jaunt back to our motel was enlivened by the undulating streetscape and the various architectural stylings.  Good vibes and good night!.