and the rain came down
Rainy rainy weekend full of beats and slides and guitar-pickin.
The fundraiser Friday night was sultry and humid and backed with moody thunderstorms. 50 people or so in a candlelit room, drinking beer and eating and listening to da blues. Little Toby Walker was pretty darned amazing; Steve liked Ian Thompson, and my mom grooved on Beaucoup Blue. So all was good.
As it turned out, my mad hunt for cream pitchers on Thursday night/Friday turned out to be irrelevant, because in the oppressive heat everyone was drinking cold beverages. The tea and coffeepots were neglected, but we killed @ 4 cases of water and several of soda, and the beer kegs were healthily tapped.
Appel Farm day dawned dreary, but the KYW forecast said "partly cloudy this afternoon" so we packed a pic-a-nic (featuring Wawa hoagies, leftover brownies and soft pretzels from the fundraiser, and cold beverages) and headed out around 9:30. Half an hour later we were pulled over on the feeder road to I-76 in a beating downpour, listening for a forecast that sounded more promising that what we were seeing, because I was feeling rather discouraged about the prospects for the day. I was already feeling kind of congested and croaky-voiced from being in the humidity and non-air-conditioning all Friday night; I hadn't slept well; and Steve also is sick with some infection that may or may not be tick-borne. (Yes, he's seen the doctor, and yes, he's taking antibiotics; the bloodwork will be back Monday and then he'll know whether it's Lyme disease or Rocky Mountain fever or God only knows what, or a simple respiratory infection coincidental to his having found 2 ticks dug into him within a week.*)
The weather minions were still promising a nicer afternoon, so we continued onward ... only to arrive in Elmer to a steady rain. We pulled into the parking lot right behind
horvendile's car, which also contained
valjean615 and
misch, which was lucky for me because I had stubbornly believed the forecast and opted for my trusty Villanova windbreaker (dating back to freshman year!) in lieu of a rain poncho. I did have an umbrella, but Gordon lent me a poncho as well, and we trooped over to the box office to pick up our tickets and gain entry. Then we split up to spread tarps at both stages, and that was about when
tangledstories and
esajudita found us.
mystrywhiteboy had written an article about opener Birdie Busch that he directed me to via
phillyfolkscene, and I had heard other good things about her, so I was glad to catch her early set. She has a nice, friendly, effortless stage manner, a clear voice, and I really liked her guitar playing. Unfortunately, although she kept hoping the weather would back off as she and the crowd got louder and louder, the weather was having none of it.. After her set came David Jacobs-Strain, and by then I had shed Gordon's poncho in favor of standing off to the side under my umbrella, because I simply hate the feeling I get under rain ponchos that I've been Cryovaced and then defrosted. David's set was good, although he was a little dismayed by how far back most of the audience was - they opted to stay behind the line designated for umbrellas and chairs, instead of coming up front and sitting on tarps that were essentially shallow puddles.
After David's set I was feeling the congestion really setting in, so I decided to go back to the truck and try to catch a bit of sleep in the air conditioning. (Interesting factoid: running the engine and the air for about an hour and a half only burnt about half a gallon of gas. This may or may not be more financially effective than running the generator in the RV at Falcon Ridge will be. I shall have to experiment.)
After my little nap, I went back to the Grove Stage to catch Toad the Wet Sprocket on their limited-edition reunion tour for this summer. They played for about an hour. They rocked, and their hardcore fangirls amused me immensely. Also, I decided Glen Phillips and Randy Guss are 1/2 of my newest imaginary band, along with Davy Jones and Nickel Creek's Chris Thile. I'm unsure whether I'm calling them the Half-Pints or the Shrinky Dinks, but whatever it, is, they are going to be the most miniature and adorable band evarrr.
Speaking of Toad the Wet Sprocket, I'm wondering where else I've seen their bass player. His name is Dean Dinning, and I suspect I either saw him backing some other artist relatively recently, or that I've seen him in uncredited bit parts on tv, since he does have something of an acting career. I haven't seen any of the movies he's credited with, but Steve and
tangledstories agree that he looks strangely familiar. (Also, oddly enough, he has some writing credits for music used on Buffy, among other shows. Thank you, IMDB.)
Duncan Sheik's set was also good - he had a full band with him, which is different from the last time I saw him at WXPN's formerly-known-as Singer-Songwriter Weekend, now called something else less memorable (All About the Music? c'mon ... ) and inconveniently scheduled, for the second year running, the same weekend as Falcon Ridge. (Which just makes no sense to me for numerous reasons, but the chief among them has got to be that their "franchise" deejay and local-legend folkmeister Gene Shay always schedules that weekend for vacation so HE can be at FRFF. Which means he can't be at their signature event. Odd. But I digress considerably from Appel Farm ... )
Then we trod across the midway to the Meadow Stage for Richard Thompson's set, notable for his guitar playing and the American Sign Language interpreter's convulsions of laughter as she tried to translate a new ditty about erectile dysfunction. We learned ASL for "erection" and "flaccid", so that was an extremely worthwhile way to spend an hour or so. Also, finally that "partly sunny" part of the forecast came true, when the clouds cleared at around 6:30. So much for that being the afternoon's forecast. After Richard's set, while we were crossing the midway again, Gordon and I had an idea for yet another original band, a Pentecostal death metal group called Pro-Zygote. (Yes, we admit it freely - we are utterly tasteless. But also endlessly inventive. Gotta give us that. :P )
Fountains of Wayne wound up the night., which was an interesting not-really-folky-at-all choice for a closing act. Appel Farm, while not billed as a folk festival, has pretty much been one in the past, yet this year they really mixed a lot of what I'd call indie-rock into the lineup, especially toward the end with TTWS and FoW, in lieu of folk-pedigreed closers like Mary-Chapin Carpenter and Rufus Wainwright with family.
We all gathered post-festival at the Elmer diner for a late dinner, although Gordon and I had breakfast (or maybe it was dessert - chocolate-chip pancakes are an interesting meal choice any time of day.) Interesting fact: chocolate apparently costs less than pancake batter, since the chocolate-chip short stack cost ten cents less than the plain short stack. (This, of course, made our choice an utter no-brainer.) Steve and I got in a little after 11 pm; he promptly crashed out, while for some peculiar reason I decided to edit Wikipedia entries I found while surfing, before reading in bed. I had already planned that today would be a designated "sick day", and I did sleep most of the day, but all things considered I feel a lot better than I expected to given the weather and the greenery. Most of yesterday's congestion has faded, and I still have a voice, which is a surprise to me. No Concerts Under the Stars for me tonight - I love Buckwheat Zydeco, but I knew that being out in nature 3 days in a row would really be pushing it - but I should be able to make it next weekend for Chris Smither.
* Warning to you snorers/open-mouth sleepers out there: one of the ticks was attached to the inside of his cheek. *shudders*
The fundraiser Friday night was sultry and humid and backed with moody thunderstorms. 50 people or so in a candlelit room, drinking beer and eating and listening to da blues. Little Toby Walker was pretty darned amazing; Steve liked Ian Thompson, and my mom grooved on Beaucoup Blue. So all was good.
As it turned out, my mad hunt for cream pitchers on Thursday night/Friday turned out to be irrelevant, because in the oppressive heat everyone was drinking cold beverages. The tea and coffeepots were neglected, but we killed @ 4 cases of water and several of soda, and the beer kegs were healthily tapped.
Appel Farm day dawned dreary, but the KYW forecast said "partly cloudy this afternoon" so we packed a pic-a-nic (featuring Wawa hoagies, leftover brownies and soft pretzels from the fundraiser, and cold beverages) and headed out around 9:30. Half an hour later we were pulled over on the feeder road to I-76 in a beating downpour, listening for a forecast that sounded more promising that what we were seeing, because I was feeling rather discouraged about the prospects for the day. I was already feeling kind of congested and croaky-voiced from being in the humidity and non-air-conditioning all Friday night; I hadn't slept well; and Steve also is sick with some infection that may or may not be tick-borne. (Yes, he's seen the doctor, and yes, he's taking antibiotics; the bloodwork will be back Monday and then he'll know whether it's Lyme disease or Rocky Mountain fever or God only knows what, or a simple respiratory infection coincidental to his having found 2 ticks dug into him within a week.*)
The weather minions were still promising a nicer afternoon, so we continued onward ... only to arrive in Elmer to a steady rain. We pulled into the parking lot right behind
horvendile's car, which also contained
valjean615 and
misch, which was lucky for me because I had stubbornly believed the forecast and opted for my trusty Villanova windbreaker (dating back to freshman year!) in lieu of a rain poncho. I did have an umbrella, but Gordon lent me a poncho as well, and we trooped over to the box office to pick up our tickets and gain entry. Then we split up to spread tarps at both stages, and that was about when
tangledstories and
esajudita found us.
mystrywhiteboy had written an article about opener Birdie Busch that he directed me to via
phillyfolkscene, and I had heard other good things about her, so I was glad to catch her early set. She has a nice, friendly, effortless stage manner, a clear voice, and I really liked her guitar playing. Unfortunately, although she kept hoping the weather would back off as she and the crowd got louder and louder, the weather was having none of it.. After her set came David Jacobs-Strain, and by then I had shed Gordon's poncho in favor of standing off to the side under my umbrella, because I simply hate the feeling I get under rain ponchos that I've been Cryovaced and then defrosted. David's set was good, although he was a little dismayed by how far back most of the audience was - they opted to stay behind the line designated for umbrellas and chairs, instead of coming up front and sitting on tarps that were essentially shallow puddles.
After David's set I was feeling the congestion really setting in, so I decided to go back to the truck and try to catch a bit of sleep in the air conditioning. (Interesting factoid: running the engine and the air for about an hour and a half only burnt about half a gallon of gas. This may or may not be more financially effective than running the generator in the RV at Falcon Ridge will be. I shall have to experiment.)
After my little nap, I went back to the Grove Stage to catch Toad the Wet Sprocket on their limited-edition reunion tour for this summer. They played for about an hour. They rocked, and their hardcore fangirls amused me immensely. Also, I decided Glen Phillips and Randy Guss are 1/2 of my newest imaginary band, along with Davy Jones and Nickel Creek's Chris Thile. I'm unsure whether I'm calling them the Half-Pints or the Shrinky Dinks, but whatever it, is, they are going to be the most miniature and adorable band evarrr.
Speaking of Toad the Wet Sprocket, I'm wondering where else I've seen their bass player. His name is Dean Dinning, and I suspect I either saw him backing some other artist relatively recently, or that I've seen him in uncredited bit parts on tv, since he does have something of an acting career. I haven't seen any of the movies he's credited with, but Steve and
tangledstories agree that he looks strangely familiar. (Also, oddly enough, he has some writing credits for music used on Buffy, among other shows. Thank you, IMDB.)
Duncan Sheik's set was also good - he had a full band with him, which is different from the last time I saw him at WXPN's formerly-known-as Singer-Songwriter Weekend, now called something else less memorable (All About the Music? c'mon ... ) and inconveniently scheduled, for the second year running, the same weekend as Falcon Ridge. (Which just makes no sense to me for numerous reasons, but the chief among them has got to be that their "franchise" deejay and local-legend folkmeister Gene Shay always schedules that weekend for vacation so HE can be at FRFF. Which means he can't be at their signature event. Odd. But I digress considerably from Appel Farm ... )
Then we trod across the midway to the Meadow Stage for Richard Thompson's set, notable for his guitar playing and the American Sign Language interpreter's convulsions of laughter as she tried to translate a new ditty about erectile dysfunction. We learned ASL for "erection" and "flaccid", so that was an extremely worthwhile way to spend an hour or so. Also, finally that "partly sunny" part of the forecast came true, when the clouds cleared at around 6:30. So much for that being the afternoon's forecast. After Richard's set, while we were crossing the midway again, Gordon and I had an idea for yet another original band, a Pentecostal death metal group called Pro-Zygote. (Yes, we admit it freely - we are utterly tasteless. But also endlessly inventive. Gotta give us that. :P )
Fountains of Wayne wound up the night., which was an interesting not-really-folky-at-all choice for a closing act. Appel Farm, while not billed as a folk festival, has pretty much been one in the past, yet this year they really mixed a lot of what I'd call indie-rock into the lineup, especially toward the end with TTWS and FoW, in lieu of folk-pedigreed closers like Mary-Chapin Carpenter and Rufus Wainwright with family.
We all gathered post-festival at the Elmer diner for a late dinner, although Gordon and I had breakfast (or maybe it was dessert - chocolate-chip pancakes are an interesting meal choice any time of day.) Interesting fact: chocolate apparently costs less than pancake batter, since the chocolate-chip short stack cost ten cents less than the plain short stack. (This, of course, made our choice an utter no-brainer.) Steve and I got in a little after 11 pm; he promptly crashed out, while for some peculiar reason I decided to edit Wikipedia entries I found while surfing, before reading in bed. I had already planned that today would be a designated "sick day", and I did sleep most of the day, but all things considered I feel a lot better than I expected to given the weather and the greenery. Most of yesterday's congestion has faded, and I still have a voice, which is a surprise to me. No Concerts Under the Stars for me tonight - I love Buckwheat Zydeco, but I knew that being out in nature 3 days in a row would really be pushing it - but I should be able to make it next weekend for Chris Smither.
* Warning to you snorers/open-mouth sleepers out there: one of the ticks was attached to the inside of his cheek. *shudders*