First of all, what a beautiful drive! I went north from Philly to the foothills of the Poconos, then west over hills, past forest and farms to a campground in central PA. To quote Mel Brooks: “Everything’s so green!”
I’m camped at A Bears Picnic, a hippy fest somewhere North of Harrisburg. A Hippy fest is somewhat different from a jam band fest. It’s a little more friendly and relaxed, with a lot more Grateful Dead influence, without the funk and hip-hop that the jam-banders sometimes favor. There’s less ecstasy circulating through the crowd, and more LSD. I’m not familiar with most of the bands, so it’s my chance to learn something.
First up on this sunny and breezy Friday afternoon is Steal Your Face, a Grateful Dead cover band out of Philadelphia. They’re okay, but their covers are a little too faithful to the originals for my taste. They’re faithful to the point of using the same guitar effects as the Dead used. There’s nothing wrong with playing covers, of course, but note-for-note covers lack spontaneity, to say the least. I spent their set sitting under my awning, sipping a cold drink, chatting with passers-by, and watching the folks in the next campsite struggling to put up their own elaborate awning. They‘ve declined my offers of help, so I can sit without guilt and chuckle as the wind catches the parachute cloth and flips the entire assembly, over and over. It’s like watching an Abbot and Costello movie where they’re trying to be plumbers or something.
The second band, Lumber Truck, is a power trio- bass, drums and guitar. Although I assume they’re named after a Frank Zappa song, they’re clearly Dead-influenced, but they play some originals and a wider assortment of covers. Far superior. I walk to the pavilion and give them my full attention. The campground has a large pavilion with an aluminum roof. The band area is under this, so we can stay in the shade as we listen to the band. It works well, but if this festival gets any more popular, shady spots will become objects of furious competition. Or possibly not. This isn’t a particularly ambitious crowd, and many are content to listen from their own campsites. The campground is small, and the music can be clearly heard everywhere.
Next up is Lumpy Gravy, who I’m sure are named after a Frank Zappa record. They’re a 4-piece, with a saxophone in place of a second guitar. They remind me more of Phish than of the dead, but they’re their own thing. A few more hippies wander up to the pavilion, girls in sun dresses or sequined bell bottoms, guys in t-shirts and baggy shorts.
I got what I need
When my pocket’s full of weed!”
Yep, drugs are casually consumed everywhere, but I’m not seeing anyone visibly intoxicated. Despite all the extralegal commerce, the atmosphere is safe and friendly. Little kids run around everywhere in perfect safety, watched by some 4,000 caring eyes. I don’t see or hear any nitrous oxide dealers. I’ve been to festivals where I couldn’t sleep at night for the nitrous hiss.
Willie Jack plays another Dead-influenced set, but they get some originality points for their Dead-style covers of songs not ordinarily associated with the Dead. The Juggling Suns then add a bit of prog rock influence to the Dead vibe. I shouldn’t be surprised at the heavy Dead presence, especially after my Scottypaluza experience two summers ago, but it seems to me there used to be more variety on the hippy scene. It’s not that any of the bands are bad, but they’re getting a little monotonous. Where is the blues influence? Where’s the Appalachian music? Where’s the jazz? What about the middle-eastern-influenced stuff?
Just when I think if I hear another version of Friend of the Devil I’ll have to take a hostage, Cabi
