festivals, i didn't know i loved you so

You're going to say that I should have invited you , but I didn't know that I should've.

In this small college town, on the rainiest of weekends thus far this year, a hundred some kids assembled in the modest back yard of a home, sweet but dingy, and held a festival in the name of the small college town. Brought together by the writers of another blog, justhaircutsandjackets.blogspot.com, twenty or so local bands played there hearts out to a sopping throng of fellow Michiganders. All acts played acoustic and all profits went to benefit a children's music school. The weekend was beautiful.

The first day, starting at noon in a sunny spot on patchy lawn brought local kids in to see their friends in a new band. The Kid Breaks, a three piece consisting of a guitar, cheap key board, and meager drum kit played a set of sixties influenced pop with hooks to spare and plenty of kitch. Several solo acts followed, including Jess Kramer, a sweet and quiet personality who solely drolled out songs of heartbreak and hope, including the line to the idea of, "we'll wake up and find it we made it all up, all the wars and everything." The Mighty Narwhal brought the first feeling of neighborhood to the day, not because they were from the town, but because they made the kind of music where you felt that maybe they had grown up on the same block as you (more of this later) . The rain came and went throughout the afternoon and a makeshift tarp's failing led the audience to a small dank basement where they all crammed in, blurring lines between noise maker and listener during the Natural Monuments painful yet hilarious set.

The day ended outside as the rain broke for the Great Lakes Myth Society, a five piece with multiple song writers exchanging guitars, ukuleles, and accordions between members. The band brought a romantic atmosphere to cap a day that left all shirts soaked of sweat and rain. The movement of acts to and from four makeshift stages, the variety of acoustic instrumentation, and the vast verbosity of lyrics from the many talented writers left one thirsting for the next days acts.

I'll admit I woke up a bit late for the second day, too late even for the noon start time. When I arrived on the second day I discovered that the staging situation had been resolved now with the bands playing in the carriage style garage, ambient lighting being provided with rope lights and yellowed bulbs; the audience now sitting under the propped up yet soggy tarp.

What a day of music. Early on the bands Onett and Cameratta both brought a folksy, youthful sound to the proceedings. These two bands were separated by Jim Roll, a legendary blues man from Ann Arbor, whose sad songs mellowed out the fiery passions of the youthful bands which surrounded him.

The final two acts of the evening truly personified the sound that I previously called "neighborhood". The sedate yet passionate sounds of Chris Bathgate and then of Canada, both of Ann Arbor, seemed perfectly in tune with the surroundings. Many of listeners softly sang along to songs about imperfect friendships and imaginary lives, tales quietly ringing true with each passing note. These were songs, and people, you'd want living next you, in your neighborhood.

The weekend proved well for the future of Michigan music. Cellos mixed with Banjos as Casio's played in tune with harmonicas. Two days of harmonized voices sweetening the humid air, while friends talked under colorful umbrellas about the beauty of this place.

Sorry I forgot to invite you, you wouldn't have made the drive anyway.

La Humanista