Bluesfest 2016, a divine experience

Now, first off, before you say anything, I realise that time management should not be a consideration for the Lord Almighty at a music festival. Because I’m everywhere all the time. But that’s hard work. Sometimes I like to step back from Godly duties and unwind. Especially on Easter. That’s my time to relax and celebrate a certain resurrection. And I’m not talking about D’Angelo.

I like Byron Bay. I did a good job there. I practiced a little down south before working my way up the coast of Australia. By the time I got to Byron I was getting the water temperature right. Twenty five degrees. Good sand grain consistency on the beaches. Crystal water clarity. The humans keep the place clean. It’s God’s Country. 

I don’t eat food, of course, but if I did I’d be spoiled for choice in Byron. There’s cuisines from all over the planet, innumerable craft beers and divine coffee.

And for those confined to the Earthy constraint of flesh, not to mention time and space, there’s regular shuttle buses from the centre of Byron Bay to Bluesfest’s home at Tyagarah Tea Farm. It’s about fifteen minutes Earth time. Ten dollars return.

Californian rockers Cold War Kids were one of the big draw cards on Bluesfest’s opening night and they were quick to show off their stadium band credentials. 

The group has slowly moved away from their earlier Southern-fried, swampy sound toward bigger, more anthemic rock. This was evident in their high-energy no-lull Crossroads stage performance, with the natural charisma and glassy vocals of Nathan Willett front and centre. Tried and true radio hits like Hang Me Up to Dry, We Used to Vacation, First, Something is Not Right With Me and Miracle Mile are all carefully designed to roil a big crowd and, make no mistake, they did. 

It was a shame that their best track, Jailbirds, did not make an appearance.

The decision to book revered modern rapper Kendrick Lamar to headline a night at Bluesfest polarised the faithful. But the choice was a brave one. Lamar is no false prophet. The poet from Compton displays all the hallmarks of a true musical genius, and his 2015 record To Pimp a Butterfly is nothing short of a cultural landmark. 

The average age of the Bluesfest punters on opening night was noticeably younger than the typical army of “greying deckchair warriors” that park their fold-out seats in awkward locations. But, nevertheless, Lamar, with his tight live band, held those susceptible young souls in the palm of his hand. They hung on every rapid-fire lyric. When the big choruses dropped, such as those in Swimming Pools (Drank), u and King Kunta, there were kids jumping as far as the human eye could see. This almighty show, a fusion of soul, funk and hip-hop, ended with the monster hit Alright – a closer of biblical proportions.

Middle-aged white men drooled in anticipation for Tweedy’s set, with Wilco frontman and folk-rock hero Jeff Tweedy leading his eponymous side project through a mix of fresh material and Wilco classics. With teenage son Spencer on drums, the group cherry picked tracks from debut Tweedy record Sukierae. Then the band departed and left Jeff to deliver what Wilco’s disciples craved - a selection of favourites from the band’s catalogue: Passenger Side, Hummingbird, I’m the Man Who Loves You, and I Am Trying to Break Your Heart. Then the band returned for a cover of Neil Young’s The Losing End, Uncle Tupelo’s Give Back the Key to My Heart and Wilco’s Billy Bragg collaboration California Stars.

Earlier in the day I watched over the Bluesfest Busking Competition grand final at Byron Bay’s Beach Hotel. The young talent on show ensured this would be a very Good Friday indeed. Central Coast heavy blues rockers Ivy claimed the penultimate prize. The trio certainly brought the crowd to their feet and had a monstrous sound. But I was really impressed by The Settlement, a foot-stompin’ Australiana folk-rock band with furious fiddle. There were echoes of Flogging Molly in their brash, high-octane melodies. Definitely a live band to seek out.

Back at Bluesfest, as the sun set, City and Colour graced the main Mojo stage. Dallas Green’s voice was as pure and golden as ever, but delivered a serene and languid performance – even by his own standards. Woman was a stunning opener but the set yearned for the big country rock breakouts that proved the highlight of past performances, something in the vein of Thirst (which didn’t make the cut). Sonically gorgeous but not as arresting as previous setlists.

As an omnipotent supernatural force and wielder of divine intervention, not a lot puzzles me. But one exception is the continued popularity of The National. Their headline slot at Bluesfest was dark, atmospheric and set to a backdrop of hypnotic acid-trip visuals, but ultimately dour and alienating. Don’t get me wrong, scores of humans adore them. The crowd was full of wide-eyed wonder. 

But their morose arrangements leave me cold. National frontman Matt Berninger is in a far superior, and more playful, project called EL VY. Have a listen.

I decided it should rain on Saturday at Bluesfest. Why? I work in mysterious ways. I don’t need to explain myself to you. At least I waited until dusk. 

Earlier in the day, beneath some of my best sunshine, Californian rock ‘n’ rollers Eagles of Death Metal swaggered their way through a triumphant and emotionally charged riff extravaganza. They rocked harder than a drunk in a hurricane. The band, which was at the centre of the unforgiveable Bataclan theatre massacre in Paris last year, received rapturous applause throughout their show. One interlude of deafening screams momentarily brought slick frontman Jesse “Boots Electric” Hughes to tears.

The Decemberists were eaten by a whale at the finale of their Crossroads stage show. It was the kind of whale you might see at a children’s pantomime, but was welcome all the same. The Oregon folk-rock group had returned to Australia after a six-year absence, and were always guaranteed to lean heavily on the two records they’ve released since their last visit for the Big Day Out in 2010. 

Highlights of their set included a cover of Death Defying by the Hoodoo Gurus (a perfectly placed piece of pandering), a full performance of epic prog-rocker The Island and a theatrical rendition of The Mariner’s Revenge Song, featuring aforementioned whale.

Bearded blues-folk rocker Steve Smyth was in fine form, howling and stomping with primal ferocity. His trio was joined on the stage by The Bin Rats’ three-piece brass section, which added muscle to Smyth’s already full-blooded tunes, such as Get On and Shake It. He preached and wailed, stepping down from the stage to embrace the audience. Smyth reminds me a bit of the kid.

Many humans forget that pop behemoth Fleetwood Mac formed in 1967 as a raw blues band, spearheaded by Peter Green, Mick Fleetwood and John McVie - three members of John Mayall’s Bluesbreakers. Green would leave in the ‘70s and they’d transform into the Stevie Nicks-led pop group that so many Earthlings worship.

So it was a joyous occasion to see drummer Fleetwood behind his sprawling kit as band leader of the Mick Fleetwood Blues Band. With one-time Mac member Rick Vito on vocals and wailing guitar, the group returned to the early blues material with original tunes like Black Magic Woman and Looking for Somebody.

During their set I opened the heavens, a torrential downpour saturating Bluesfest’s dusty grounds. A hole in the roof of the Crossroads tent created a waterfall in the middle of the crowd, with punters immediately running amok in the torrent of fresh rainwater.

The real showstoppers on Saturday were the Tedeschi Trucks Band. It takes a lot to impress the architect of all existence, but I had to marvel at how guitar giant Derek Trucks managed to shred without his index finger. That’s right. He badly cut the main digit on his left hand before the show and somehow managed to play with only three fingers on the neck. Half the gig was a showcase for his bottleneck skills. It was impressive. Trucks slid faster than a fat kid at Wet’N’Wild. His wife, Susan Tedeschi, was an absolute knock-out. Her powerful, smoldering voice was velvet to the ears, and she’s no slouch on lead guitar either. 

With a big band behind them, Trucks and Tedeschi played material from new record Let Me Get By and a few choice covers, from Bonnie Raitt’s Angel of Montgomery to Joe Cocker’s version of With a Little Help From My Friends.

Neo soul and R’n’B shaman D’Angleo, surrounded by a world-class band, weaved a sensuous main stage performance. In fact, his melodies were so carnal that I had to make sure he was not causing immaculate conceptions. Classics like Brown Sugar wove into tracks from his breakthrough return album Black Messiah. A prolonged rendition of The Charade was pure tantric sex. 

I formed singer-songwriter and guitar maestro Kim Churchill from sand and saltwater, bestowing on him magical fingers. Thankfully, he has put these to good use. His star has continued to rise over the past year and his two performances at Bluesfest were a clear demonstration as to why. On Sunday afternoon a big crowd turned out for the gifted musician. Occasionally accompanied by two drummers on floor toms, one of them suspiciously resembling the singer from Boo Seeka, Churchill mostly performed as a one-man band, with chimes and stomp box at his disposal. He brought the house down with his rambunctious cover of Led Zeppelin’s The Lemon Song. 

Graham Nash’s voice is like your favourite relative, someone whose memory is inextricably linked to childhood. The iconic songwriter previewed a range of superb new songs that will appear on upcoming break-up record This Path Tonight. The title track was particularly stunning. With only songwriting collaborator Shane Fontayne alongside him, Nash told some warm anecdotes about friends Joni Mitchell and Neil Young and played classics of spiritual significance – Our House and Teach Your Children.

Modest Mouse were another Bluesfest curveball but would have impressed the greying deckchair warriors who ventured to see their lively performance. The Washington band’s sound is tough to define. Much like myself, they work in mysterious ways, fusing everything from country to new wave into stomping rock anthems more infectious than the Black Death. Their breakthrough hit Float On was a welcome addition, having been omitted from their Sydney sideshow the previous Monday evening.

I’ve always liked the Gallagher brothers, Noel and Liam. They’re two of God’s gifts. Just ask them. But since feuding splintered them and caused Oasis to go on hiatus, Noel has released two impressive records. With his High Flying Birds band flocking all around him, Noel orchestrated a swelling, guitar-driven Brit-rock show. After half a dozen solo tracks, “The First Noel” launched into an Oasis set: Champagne Supernova, Wonderwall, Half the World Away, The Masterplan, Digsy’s Dinner and D’Yer Wanna Be a Spaceman?. When the audience bayed for an encore, Noel returned with a couple of tasty solo tracks and the grand finale: Don’t Look Back in Anger. Top notch.

The legendary Tom Jones, with his Moses tan and sharp plaid suit, brought old-school class to Bluesfest on Monday night. For the purists, he might not have been an obvious choice for a festival that once focused on blues music. And there’s no doubt that a few members of the crowd rolled up to see Tommy for the novelty value. But the Welsh lad quickly silenced the doubters, opening with his raw cover of John Lee Hooker’s Burin’ Hell before inviting the Blind Boys of Alabama on stage to assist with backing vocals.  The set was eclectic, Jones’ hits Delilah, It’s Not Unusual and Sex Bomb were slotted alongside Leonard Cohen’s Tower of Song, Gillian Welch’s Elvis Presley Blues and Randy Newman’s You Can Leave Your Hat On and Mama Told Me Not to Come. He might be 75, but the man’s voice is as powerful as ever, aged like a fine wine with the timbre of rich mahogany. It’s only fair that I leave him on Earth a while longer.

There was no one more qualified to bring Bluesfest to a close than The Original Blues Brothers. I’ve been a fan of these guys for decades. In fact, back in 1980 I sent their original singers, Jake and Elroy, on a mission to reform the band.

At Bluesfest they were led by guitarist Steve “The Colonel” Cropper. That man is a living legend, let me tell you. He co-wrote Knock On Wood with Eddie Floyd, In the Midnight Hour with Wilson Pickett and (Sittin’ On) The Dock of the Bay with Otis Redding. His old partner in crime, fellow MG and bassist Donald “Duck” Dunn is up here with me now, and we both loved this Bluesfest finale. Vocalists Rob Paparozzi, Bobby Harden, and Tommy McDonnell, dressed in the iconic Blues Brothers get-up, worked the crowd like dogs in a sheep pen. Tunes like Soul Man, Knock On Wood, Minnie the Moocher, and Sweet Home Chicago had bodies twisting throughout the Crossroads Tent, the punters squeezing every last drop out of their festival week.

Bluesfest, the ultimate family friendly music festival, was a fun time for this deity. There was comfort to be found in the sight of parents leading their children, exposing them to the wonders of live music. It’s a passion passed on from generation to generation, best transferred during those formative years. At this annual Byron event that tradition is alive and well. And thank God for that.