I took this picture this morning as the sun was coming up over FloydFest.
Before yesterday, I figured on comparing FloydFest to MerleFest. Within minutes of walking on the festival grounds I was thinking more like "Woodstock with a little restraint". But, really, other than the fact that they are all music festivals, comparisons between any two of the three wouldn't do either justice.
Imagine a bunch of old farts like me sitting in front of a stage enjoying music. Any music. (Okay...any music that geezers might enjoy). Now picture a rave: Dance music and a mosh pit of bodies (mostly -- but not all -- young and lithe) dancing with the same passion that creates winners on American Idol or Dancing With the Stars, the passion that painted the Sistine Chapel, or that designs and builds a Lamborghini. Think of a festival whose seeds were planted in the hippie culture circa 1968: "Streets" named Harmony Way, High Street, Happy Trails, Forest of Lights; areas like Healing Arts, Global Village, Children's Universe; field camping, woods camping, family camping.
Blend all of the above and put it out in the middle of nowhere alongside the Blue Ridge Parkway. (Floyd is about 10 twisty miles away...and Floyd has exactly one stoplight.)
That is a first glimpse FloydFest.
My first volunteer assignment isn't until this afternoon. (The Beer Garden.) Before entering the festival yesterday I stopped at volunteer check-in to see if they might have a need. I spent the first two hours guarding the entrance to the backstage at Dreaming Creek Stage (the main stage -- there are 7 total). The orange vest I was given to wear probably made me look like "the establishment"...but everybody was nice to me. :)
Imagine a bunch of old farts like me sitting in front of a stage enjoying music. Any music. (Okay...any music that geezers might enjoy). Now picture a rave: Dance music and a mosh pit of bodies (mostly -- but not all -- young and lithe) dancing with the same passion that creates winners on American Idol or Dancing With the Stars, the passion that painted the Sistine Chapel, or that designs and builds a Lamborghini. Think of a festival whose seeds were planted in the hippie culture circa 1968: "Streets" named Harmony Way, High Street, Happy Trails, Forest of Lights; areas like Healing Arts, Global Village, Children's Universe; field camping, woods camping, family camping.
Blend all of the above and put it out in the middle of nowhere alongside the Blue Ridge Parkway. (Floyd is about 10 twisty miles away...and Floyd has exactly one stoplight.)
That is a first glimpse FloydFest.
My first volunteer assignment isn't until this afternoon. (The Beer Garden.) Before entering the festival yesterday I stopped at volunteer check-in to see if they might have a need. I spent the first two hours guarding the entrance to the backstage at Dreaming Creek Stage (the main stage -- there are 7 total). The orange vest I was given to wear probably made me look like "the establishment"...but everybody was nice to me. :)
Stop, Drop & Roll ("traditional bluegrass, rock, classical, funk, reggae and elements from the jamband genre [combine] together to create a unique sound and energetic musical experience...") were finishing up their set. What I heard sounded a lot like Cajun...and it was good!
When my "shift" ended, Emmitt-Nershi Band (banjo, mandolin, flat-top guitar, and bass) was in the middle of a funky interlude that had started off as Bob Dylan's The Mighty Quinn (Quinn the Eskimo). I walked around to the front and saw that the first fifty feet in front of the stage was occupied by dancers: Children, grown-ups, fossils...bodies twisting and shimmering, hands waving in the air. I waded in to the very front of the stage so that I could watch the band. (Quinn the Eskimo went on for at least another 5 minutes.) But I enjoyed the dancing all around me at least as much as I enjoyed the music.
An hour later, as dusk fell on the mountaintop, I returned to the center of the dance area as Panjea took the stage. Soon I was surrounded by "hip-hop and dancehall beats with traditional African rhythms" (I would have added the word "reggae"), swaying and springing bodies, and a light show in the trees behind the stage, with the occasional glow stick dropping near me. (Would my daughters be shocked? Amused? Or would they think maybe I was just a little "cool"?) As is my custom, I had one foot keeping time to the music. But, after a while I was keeping time with both feet, swaying to the music. (Dancing??? Nah. But now, I'm thinking, my girls might be mortified.)
Later, as I walked across the festival grounds toward the shuttle that would take me back to the RV, I first noticed the searchlights plying the sky from the entrance. Between the powerful beams were more stars than I have seen in quite a while. I've been a mile high in the mountains for a month, but at Boone I was generally in the woods, so I never noticed the night sky much. Now I saw it...and it was awesome.
Okay, I'm hooked. Can't wait to get back over there this morning, and I'm already looking forward to next year. (The backstage volunteer coordinator has already requested that I work for him next year.)
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance
I hope you dance
I hope you dance
(Written by Tia Sillers, recorded by Lee Ann Womack)
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