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Phish | Madison Square Garden 2011 | Review

Words by: Garrin Benfield | Images by: Dave Vann

Phish :: 12.29.11-12.30.11 :: Madison Square Garden :: New York, NY

12.29.11

Phish – 12-29-11- Photo by Dave Vann Phish 2011

Depending on your perspective, Phish either took over midtown Manhattan for their 2011 holiday run at Madison Square Garden, or were barely even noticed by commuters descending beneath the venue to Penn Station. Though the band has been playing the world’s most famous venue since 1994, it still strikes me how the lot scene is completely absorbed by the streets outside the venue, which appear only moderately busier because of the band’s presence. This year’s frigid temperatures sent everyone inside nice and early for the second of the four sold out shows.

It’s always a bit disorienting entering the flow of a special stand-alone run like this one on the second night, but everyone I spoke with had positive things to say about night one, and a general air of gratitude billowed through the crowd that the band was even able to schedule these dates amongst a short family oriented hiatus. My concerns over whether the band would be rusty and unrehearsed were temporarily put at bay by the metrically challenging “Sloth” opener, which like the “You Enjoy Myself” that followed, was executed near perfectly and took me completely off guard. I can’t remember ever seeing “YEM” placed so early in a show and it came across as an undeniable statement of confidence. The room erupted and even accommodated the strange feeling of hearing an a cappella vocal jam before some people had settled into their seats.

As if to temper any expectations that this would be a night of unpredictable left turns (as the recently released ’97 box set was fresh on everyone’s minds), Trey slid right into an expected but crackling “Back on the Train”. This version, though, also included a valiant effort at a brief free form jam when Mike abandoned the blues chord change and instead rested on the one. “Moma Dance” and “Funky Bitch”, both heavily played last Summer Tour, still worked well because they allow this era of Phish to indulge in their essential strength of grooving while tempting tastefully the outer edges of melodic interplay. Page really stepped up his B-3 solo on “Funky Bitch” and was happily cranked in the PA, which sounded both crisp and warm all night. The rest of the set wrapped up unremarkably but with great panache. A typically dark and climactic “Maze” and a fully pumped “Antelope” brought the first set to a crashing conclusion.

Phish – 12-29-11- Photo by Dave Vann Phish 2011

The second set began with great promise as the band leaned into the Talking Head’s “Crosseyed and Painless”, but after only a few minutes of future funk, bled seamlessly into “Simple”. The jam out of “Simple” featured some beautifully cascading runs from Trey before the whole band began dissolving in a more pointilistic direction. I think it’s safe to say no one called “Lifeboy” (the gauzy acoustic ballad from Hoist) next, but I was fascinated by the choice and eager to see how it went down. Well, this was New York City after all, so predictably the band lost some folks to the beer lines, and frankly, to my ears the tune could have used a few more run-throughs in soundcheck. “Lifeboy” also illustrated one of my recurring frustrations with some Phish songs where the piece feels like it’s so close to working on a profound level but one line or odd musical choice derails its chances of joining some elusive outside pop music pantheon. For me, on this evening, the line “You don’t get a refund if you overpray” was the stumbling block that distracted me from the otherwise gorgeous cadence of the chorus and the brilliantly understated guitar figure that runs underneath the intro and turnaround sections. However, the band deserves much admiration for continuing to mine its back catalog for left field material.

“Guyute” came next, and though heralded as one of Trey’s last great Fugue-inspired pieces, is still a very divisive tune that did little to reignite the room. “Mike’s Song”, of course, did just that, and also included the second biggest surprise of the night when, after a searing jam, instead of “Hydrogen” the band slid into “Chalkdust Torture” as if they had discussed it backstage (Who knows? Stranger things have happened). Trey created quite a challenge for himself in how to return to “I Am Hydrogen” at the breakneck clip of “Chalkdust”, but pulled it off with the rest of the band gamely falling into place. An incendiary, generously jammed “Weekapaug Groove” followed, featuring more than a few tantalizing plateaus of piano and guitar interplay. This thick and involving section of the second set is what lingered as the sold out room slowly exited and tried to pace itself for the next two nights at MSG.

12.30.11

Phish – 12-30-11- Photo by Dave Vann Phish 2011

December 30 has achieved a folkloric importance in the jam band universe as the night to see in an end of the year run, a theory that has its roots in the Grateful Dead’s mostly left coast series of shows at the Kaiser Auditorium or, later, the Oakland Coliseum. The idea is that the band is warmed up from the previous night or two of shows but not yet exhausted, over-partied, or overwhelmed by the ballyhoo of New Year’s Eve. The energy inside Phish’s penultimate show of 2011 indicated this theory is alive and well. With expectations running unfairly high, the band delivered a maddeningly inconsistent show that contained truly beautiful and innovative explorations amidst some rough or seemingly uninspired patches.

Things got off to a snappy start when Trey counted off “Punch You in the Eye” with his thick, flange drenched tone. Though not stop-on-a-dime perfect, I’m always blown away that the band considers this tune a good way to warm up! Trey then slid into a completely unexpected “Prince Caspian”, which like the previous night’s “You Enjoy Myself,” has rarely occupied such an early set position. The move was partially successful. On the one hand, I felt very deeply that this choice was an indication that Trey wanted to make this a special night, as “Caspian” has always seemed to me to be a song about Phish music itself as much as anything else. On the other, tempo-wise, the room was thrown from fifth gear into second quite abruptly. I thought it ended up working well, as the band was fresh and committed. After droning for a few seconds at the song’s conclusion, Fishman played that fluttering snare intro to “Backwards Down the Number Line,” which felt like a new, old friend entering the room that I hadn’t thought about in a while. “Number Line” reached a nice, simmering, first set boil with just the right amount of good natured, gurgling Trey lines. A very intriguing three song beginning that could probably only result from not planning.

Phish – 12-30-11- Photo by Dave Vann Phish 2011

The bluegrass ditty “Nellie Kane”, though flawless, reminded me that I don’t feel a great need to hear Phish play bluegrass anymore. At one time, one of the most novel genre surprises of the jam scene, it has been so co-opted as to be clich. “Divided Sky” continued what was shaping up to be a very diverse set, and was pretty much note-perfect. As many times as I have heard this song, there are still passages that can stir tears and the now-traditional long silence in the heart of the tune always feels like an opportunity for the whole audience to come together. The band played every passage like they meant it. “Sand”, though one of the juiciest funk grooves Phish ever devised, seemed premature at this point in the set, like it had been chosen in haste as sometimes happens when there is no setlist. And the jam itself suffered as a result, never really achieving liftoff, but instead remaining a crunchy rock excursion. “Vultures”, a classic Phish prog-oddity, seemed like a bit of red meat tossed to the confused crowd who were beginning to wilt under the expectations of so much eclecticism. But with its few obvious flubs, even it didn’t achieve the hoped for result. Trey instantly took off into a brisk “Rift” that suffered from the rust of months off the road. Playing such a demanding tune without rehearsal is either hubris or an unfortunate aspect of Phish’s dedicated improvisational ethic. Following “Rift” with “Joy” didn’t improve the situation. “Joy” is a well intentioned, heartfelt song about unexpected loss and living life fully, but so out of the vocal range of both Trey and Page, and also under-rehearsed, that all of its power seemed deflated. Not surprisingly, the set closing “Quinn the Eskimo” had the desired galvanizing effect on the room, with its easy groove and multiple reference points, from Dylan to the Dead to the many Phish versions of years past. It also set up the rest of the night for possible transcendence, though the vibe was decidedly unsure.

Phish – 12-30-11- Photo by Dave Vann Phish 2011

Though Phish has successfully resisted the categorization of their repertoire into stifling first and second set categories, there are still some songs that to me belong earlier in the show, and some that should be broken out later in the night. So, when Trey busted into that familiar crunchy E chord of “Wilson” and then followed that with a very confused “Axilla,” wherein half the band didn’t appear to know what key they were in, my heart sank a bit. Even the beginning of “Piper”, a tune I really think should be reserved for especially inspired evenings, did little to assuage my anxiety, as Trey rushed the vocal entrance and then quickly reached for the low hanging fruit of all the rock riffage at his disposal. But a cool breeze came over the proceedings and the whole band suddenly began listening to one another in a much deeper way. A fractured, dark funk groove with amphetamine tom rolls and moist synth washes emerged and became the launching pad for 10 or so minutes of fascinating, roiling weirdness. Trey began playing thematically, enabling Mike to compliment his repeated lines, until a minimalist tangle was achieved, suggesting Reich and King Crimson as only Phish can. As things began to settle, Trey let loose cries that seemed part bird, part anguished dog; a true cooperative improvisation from which a slinky “Twist” emerged. A newly inspired Trey played his sexiest, snakiest leads of the night, and the whole band seemed newly minted, given a fresh set of capabilities to finish off the show.

After “Julius” and “Golgi Apparatus”, two more songs that, though well played, seemed somehow to be crashing a party in progress, the crowd exhaled with a joyous “2001″. Looking around me, I could feel that beautiful symbiotic relationship between the band and the inhabitants of this round room start to flourish. It wasn’t a “2001″ for the ages, but I would argue it was unique in its warmth. In either case, it was definitely the right choice to begin to tell the story of the last part of this show. A “David Bowie” that provided all one could ask for in terms of execution and dissonance fueled jamming appeared to end the set. Then, suprisingly,Trey began “Squirming Coil”, not because the show needed one more tune – in fact it seemed almost tacked on at the time – but because he wanted Page to wrap up the night with his lovely piano interlude. A generous and rocking two song/two cover encore of “Boogie on Reggae Woman” and “Good Times Bad Times” concluded what could only be called another diverse and generous show from the only musicians playing at this scale who continue to risk so much.

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Phish | Madison Square Garden 2011 | Review

Words by: Garrin Benfield | Images by: Dave Vann

Phish :: 12.29.11-12.30.11 :: Madison Square Garden :: New York, NY

12.29.11

Phish – 12-29-11- Photo by Dave Vann Phish 2011

Depending on your perspective, Phish either took over midtown Manhattan for their 2011 holiday run at Madison Square Garden, or were barely even noticed by commuters descending beneath the venue to Penn Station. Though the band has been playing the world’s most famous venue since 1994, it still strikes me how the lot scene is completely absorbed by the streets outside the venue, which appear only moderately busier because of the band’s presence. This year’s frigid temperatures sent everyone inside nice and early for the second of the four sold out shows.

It’s always a bit disorienting entering the flow of a special stand-alone run like this one on the second night, but everyone I spoke with had positive things to say about night one, and a general air of gratitude billowed through the crowd that the band was even able to schedule these dates amongst a short family oriented hiatus. My concerns over whether the band would be rusty and unrehearsed were temporarily put at bay by the metrically challenging “Sloth” opener, which like the “You Enjoy Myself” that followed, was executed near perfectly and took me completely off guard. I can’t remember ever seeing “YEM” placed so early in a show and it came across as an undeniable statement of confidence. The room erupted and even accommodated the strange feeling of hearing an a cappella vocal jam before some people had settled into their seats.

As if to temper any expectations that this would be a night of unpredictable left turns (as the recently released ’97 box set was fresh on everyone’s minds), Trey slid right into an expected but crackling “Back on the Train”. This version, though, also included a valiant effort at a brief free form jam when Mike abandoned the blues chord change and instead rested on the one. “Moma Dance” and “Funky Bitch”, both heavily played last Summer Tour, still worked well because they allow this era of Phish to indulge in their essential strength of grooving while tempting tastefully the outer edges of melodic interplay. Page really stepped up his B-3 solo on “Funky Bitch” and was happily cranked in the PA, which sounded both crisp and warm all night. The rest of the set wrapped up unremarkably but with great panache. A typically dark and climactic “Maze” and a fully pumped “Antelope” brought the first set to a crashing conclusion.

Phish – 12-29-11- Photo by Dave Vann Phish 2011

The second set began with great promise as the band leaned into the Talking Head’s “Crosseyed and Painless”, but after only a few minutes of future funk, bled seamlessly into “Simple”. The jam out of “Simple” featured some beautifully cascading runs from Trey before the whole band began dissolving in a more pointilistic direction. I think it’s safe to say no one called “Lifeboy” (the gauzy acoustic ballad from Hoist) next, but I was fascinated by the choice and eager to see how it went down. Well, this was New York City after all, so predictably the band lost some folks to the beer lines, and frankly, to my ears the tune could have used a few more run-throughs in soundcheck. “Lifeboy” also illustrated one of my recurring frustrations with some Phish songs where the piece feels like it’s so close to working on a profound level but one line or odd musical choice derails its chances of joining some elusive outside pop music pantheon. For me, on this evening, the line “You don’t get a refund if you overpray” was the stumbling block that distracted me from the otherwise gorgeous cadence of the chorus and the brilliantly understated guitar figure that runs underneath the intro and turnaround sections. However, the band deserves much admiration for continuing to mine its back catalog for left field material.

“Guyute” came next, and though heralded as one of Trey’s last great Fugue-inspired pieces, is still a very divisive tune that did little to reignite the room. “Mike’s Song”, of course, did just that, and also included the second biggest surprise of the night when, after a searing jam, instead of “Hydrogen” the band slid into “Chalkdust Torture” as if they had discussed it backstage (Who knows? Stranger things have happened). Trey created quite a challenge for himself in how to return to “I Am Hydrogen” at the breakneck clip of “Chalkdust”, but pulled it off with the rest of the band gamely falling into place. An incendiary, generously jammed “Weekapaug Groove” followed, featuring more than a few tantalizing plateaus of piano and guitar interplay. This thick and involving section of the second set is what lingered as the sold out room slowly exited and tried to pace itself for the next two nights at MSG.

12.30.11

Phish – 12-30-11- Photo by Dave Vann Phish 2011

December 30 has achieved a folkloric importance in the jam band universe as the night to see in an end of the year run, a theory that has its roots in the Grateful Dead’s mostly left coast series of shows at the Kaiser Auditorium or, later, the Oakland Coliseum. The idea is that the band is warmed up from the previous night or two of shows but not yet exhausted, over-partied, or overwhelmed by the ballyhoo of New Year’s Eve. The energy inside Phish’s penultimate show of 2011 indicated this theory is alive and well. With expectations running unfairly high, the band delivered a maddeningly inconsistent show that contained truly beautiful and innovative explorations amidst some rough or seemingly uninspired patches.

Things got off to a snappy start when Trey counted off “Punch You in the Eye” with his thick, flange drenched tone. Though not stop-on-a-dime perfect, I’m always blown away that the band considers this tune a good way to warm up! Trey then slid into a completely unexpected “Prince Caspian”, which like the previous night’s “You Enjoy Myself,” has rarely occupied such an early set position. The move was partially successful. On the one hand, I felt very deeply that this choice was an indication that Trey wanted to make this a special night, as “Caspian” has always seemed to me to be a song about Phish music itself as much as anything else. On the other, tempo-wise, the room was thrown from fifth gear into second quite abruptly. I thought it ended up working well, as the band was fresh and committed. After droning for a few seconds at the song’s conclusion, Fishman played that fluttering snare intro to “Backwards Down the Number Line,” which felt like a new, old friend entering the room that I hadn’t thought about in a while. “Number Line” reached a nice, simmering, first set boil with just the right amount of good natured, gurgling Trey lines. A very intriguing three song beginning that could probably only result from not planning.

Phish – 12-30-11- Photo by Dave Vann Phish 2011

The bluegrass ditty “Nellie Kane”, though flawless, reminded me that I don’t feel a great need to hear Phish play bluegrass anymore. At one time, one of the most novel genre surprises of the jam scene, it has been so co-opted as to be clich. “Divided Sky” continued what was shaping up to be a very diverse set, and was pretty much note-perfect. As many times as I have heard this song, there are still passages that can stir tears and the now-traditional long silence in the heart of the tune always feels like an opportunity for the whole audience to come together. The band played every passage like they meant it. “Sand”, though one of the juiciest funk grooves Phish ever devised, seemed premature at this point in the set, like it had been chosen in haste as sometimes happens when there is no setlist. And the jam itself suffered as a result, never really achieving liftoff, but instead remaining a crunchy rock excursion. “Vultures”, a classic Phish prog-oddity, seemed like a bit of red meat tossed to the confused crowd who were beginning to wilt under the expectations of so much eclecticism. But with its few obvious flubs, even it didn’t achieve the hoped for result. Trey instantly took off into a brisk “Rift” that suffered from the rust of months off the road. Playing such a demanding tune without rehearsal is either hubris or an unfortunate aspect of Phish’s dedicated improvisational ethic. Following “Rift” with “Joy” didn’t improve the situation. “Joy” is a well intentioned, heartfelt song about unexpected loss and living life fully, but so out of the vocal range of both Trey and Page, and also under-rehearsed, that all of its power seemed deflated. Not surprisingly, the set closing “Quinn the Eskimo” had the desired galvanizing effect on the room, with its easy groove and multiple reference points, from Dylan to the Dead to the many Phish versions of years past. It also set up the rest of the night for possible transcendence, though the vibe was decidedly unsure.

Phish – 12-30-11- Photo by Dave Vann Phish 2011

Though Phish has successfully resisted the categorization of their repertoire into stifling first and second set categories, there are still some songs that to me belong earlier in the show, and some that should be broken out later in the night. So, when Trey busted into that familiar crunchy E chord of “Wilson” and then followed that with a very confused “Axilla,” wherein half the band didn’t appear to know what key they were in, my heart sank a bit. Even the beginning of “Piper”, a tune I really think should be reserved for especially inspired evenings, did little to assuage my anxiety, as Trey rushed the vocal entrance and then quickly reached for the low hanging fruit of all the rock riffage at his disposal. But a cool breeze came over the proceedings and the whole band suddenly began listening to one another in a much deeper way. A fractured, dark funk groove with amphetamine tom rolls and moist synth washes emerged and became the launching pad for 10 or so minutes of fascinating, roiling weirdness. Trey began playing thematically, enabling Mike to compliment his repeated lines, until a minimalist tangle was achieved, suggesting Reich and King Crimson as only Phish can. As things began to settle, Trey let loose cries that seemed part bird, part anguished dog; a true cooperative improvisation from which a slinky “Twist” emerged. A newly inspired Trey played his sexiest, snakiest leads of the night, and the whole band seemed newly minted, given a fresh set of capabilities to finish off the show.

After “Julius” and “Golgi Apparatus”, two more songs that, though well played, seemed somehow to be crashing a party in progress, the crowd exhaled with a joyous “2001″. Looking around me, I could feel that beautiful symbiotic relationship between the band and the inhabitants of this round room start to flourish. It wasn’t a “2001″ for the ages, but I would argue it was unique in its warmth. In either case, it was definitely the right choice to begin to tell the story of the last part of this show. A “David Bowie” that provided all one could ask for in terms of execution and dissonance fueled jamming appeared to end the set. Then, suprisingly,Trey began “Squirming Coil”, not because the show needed one more tune – in fact it seemed almost tacked on at the time – but because he wanted Page to wrap up the night with his lovely piano interlude. A generous and rocking two song/two cover encore of “Boogie on Reggae Woman” and “Good Times Bad Times” concluded what could only be called another diverse and generous show from the only musicians playing at this scale who continue to risk so much.

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Bear Creek Music Festival | Florida | Review | Photos

Words by: B. Getz | Images by: Jeffrey Dupuis, Dino Perrucci and Jon Prins

Bear Creek Music & Art Festival :: 11.10.11-11.13.11 :: Spirit of Suwannee Music Park :: Live Oak, FL

Extensive photo gallery below review!

Bear Creek 2011 by Jeffrey Dupuis

Bear Creek Music & Art Festival 2011 once again set a gold-standard, the quintessential music event every autumn. The experience focused on the essence of collaboration through the vessels of groove music, whilst widening the lanes for the cutting edge and avant-garde. One could not seize upon all the phenomenal music being offered, and this report is a small sampling of the festivals platter. Big IV Productions Paul Levine and Lyle Williams, the festivals curators, take their cues from New Orleans Jazz Fest, where folks run from one stage to the next, missing a favorite to take a chance on a new quantity, or soaking in a full set at the expense of losing three others. Artists- at-Large roamed the grounds, plying their trade in continuous displays of unadulterated improvisation.

Cozy sunshine by day, arctic chill after dark, the always luxurious confines of the Spirit of The Suwannee Music Park served as an enchanting host. Rolling Spanish moss, wrapping picturesque tree lined heights, unsullied nature provoking a romantic dalliance with the soul. The fantastic staff labored like none other, and they are a downright pleasant crew. And the mighty assembly of musicians looks forward to Bear Creek above all other happenings each year, counting the days until they get down by the river again.

Thursday

Dr. Lonnie Smith by Jeffrey Dupuis

The first day of the festival saw The Pimps of Joytimes pomp and flair turn the Music Hall into a Superfly set, with singer-guitarist Brian J taking the room into the palm of his hand like a true frontman. Juno What? converted a room full of disbelief with electro-improv dynamics. Zongo Junction beckoned a new dawn for Afrobeat born on American soil. Beats Antique was a diverse departure; their resilient and obscure approach to modern dance music a welcome respite from the prevailing funk. Karl Densons scene stealing flute-down during the Beats Friday set was keenly apposite.

Dr. Lonnie Smiths byzantine jazz lesson offered hard-hop for the lifted and layman – the purest jazz on the river all weekend, pure authenticity on display. Special props to drummer Jamal Williams, who provided the first (of many) Holy Sh*t! moments of the fest. This cat is serious on the kit. Smiths trio worked up furious speed-jazz, bursting into tranquility in a bed of B3s and hollow-body.

KDTU by Dino Perrucci

George Porter Jr. and the Runnin’ Pardners got things NOLA-rolling after a burning set from The Coup. Porter was EVERYWHERE at Bear Creek, sitting in with over a dozen artists over the weekend. He somehow managed to funkify the lives of every person on site, joining over a dozen different artists who feted him like royalty. During the Pardners sets, sax maven Khrys Royal stole the show, adding futuristic crunk elements to the timeless Meters-soaked set.

Karl Denson’s Tiny Universe rose to the occasion with their boiling Thursday night performance, serving notice that new guitarist DJ Williams is ready for the bright lights. Unveiling new songs from the forthcoming KDTU record steeped in scorching tradition, KDTU was brought their considerable mojo to the marquee. Drummer John Staten durably pushed, keyboardist David Veith acted as glue, washing organs and slipping Rhodes into passageways. Artist-at-Large/Greyboy Allstars keyboardist Robert Walter added Hammond B3 to a sweltering Satisfied that evolved into Middle Eastern-infused Brit-garage beat science. Burlesque sensation Lady Gingerlicious sashayed to a spiraling Dance Lesson #2as Joey Porter pranced the Hammond B3. Denson himself, after a particularly dope flute workout augmented by Chris Littlefields lively trumpet, jumped on keys for a jam ala James Brown. The sets more heated exchanges were let loose during a still-sensual Fallin (the BBQ Song) as the dancing in the audience stoked the Universe flame to erotic proportions. There were tasty soundclashes between dub-reggae and progressive rock, and a reworking of the Cold War Kids Hang Me Out To Dry. The encore, a Williams-penned monster titled No Ammo, the new axeman slew the Creek with Eddie Hazel-like might as the band stomped and stutter-stepped in reborn style.

Friday

Roosevelt Collier by Jon Prins

Anders Osborne (with guitarist Billy Iuso in tow) welcomed NOLA (and George Porter Jr.) to the stage for a sweltering dose of denim-charred rock n blues, which included a summons to the Grateful generation with a Sugaree full of of Garcias universal undertones. Later, a weighty Cortez the Killer captivated the teeming amphitheatre. Anders channeled his adopted hometown for 90 minutes, rocking harder and heavier than most afternoon performers. Unfortunately, Osborne took sick later that day and was unable to perform for the remainder of the festival; Roosevelt Collier capably saved the day for KDTUs Sticky Fingers set later on Friday.

Skeriks skronkaphonics were a promiscuous presence all weekend. Freekbass and Skerik in the Silent Disco dished out diverse insanity and disturbed cacophony mid-afternoon. Later, it was a jumpsuit apparatus and padded walls when Garage a Trois took the Purple Hat Stage. As nightfall arrived, Marco Benevento, Mike Dillon, Stanton Moore, and Scary Eric continued their descent into maniacal madness. Dark Magus gone Clash with drunk-era Beastie Boys mixed in the gumbo was the flavor during GATs set, which warbled a tweaked and twisted tone with a demonic Skerik and Benevento at the helm. There he was, fifteen hours in, summoning dawn alongside partner in psychosis Mike Dillon (himself crowd surfing shirtless in a punk-in-drublic moment), with Hairy Apes BMX. Sitting in with Marco Benevento, Lettuce, The Trio, Dumpsta, Orchestra at Large, and many more, Skerik was the ultimate Artist-at-Large, bringing his inimitable personality to every situation, and leaving an indelible imprint in your skull.

John Medeski by Dino Perrucci

Returning with new vocalist Niki Crawford, Los Angeles Orgones thrilling performance was dirty elegance, easily one of the weekends best. Guitarist Sergio Rios and his gang dropped Cosmic Slop and Aint No Use with perfection, with their own material being faithful reinventions of War and Mandrill blaxploitation sounds, altogether a spellbinding tour de funk that pulsated with eroticism. The bands entire presentation was top tier, the band a sundry and distinct collective whose sum proved greater than their parts. At a festival dripping with the chunkiest, dirtiest funk, Orgone reeked of authenticity and flair; the restrained dynamics and orgasmic peaks were servings of unadulterated swagger – crme de la crme. Without a doubt, a band to keep a close watch on as their future is dazzling.

Medeski Martin & Wood celebrated their 20th Anniversary with panache. Friday the trio incorporated Johnny Vidacovich and percussion pupil Stanton Moore, injecting Crescent City shuffle into their Manhattan mojo. The gooey Uninvisible explored the roots of groove, and Artist-at- Large Pee Wee Ellis fortified the funk n jam on Wheres the Music and Think. The frigid air reminded one of Manhattan as a palpable sense of fear infected the heavily imbibed massive, and MMW crafted an appropriate soundtrack for the surrounds.

Bear Creek 2011 by Jon Prins

The subculture of music art is alive and well, a range of exhibitions in full flourish all weekend. Installations and adornment sprung up throughout the Park, and crews of painters, artists, clothiers, jewelers and more created a veritable bazaar. It felt like it should feel, i.e. people creating wares and bringing them to the family gathering for a free exchange of creativity. The vast and luminous attendance of art is a firm branch on the trunk of this festivals tree of life, and Bear Creek holds fast to it.

A seamless mlange of New Orleans funk, jazzy rare groove, live hip-hop, and brazen bounce music, Galactic further cemented their legend with a ruckus. The original five braved glacial temperatures with a bundle of co-conspirators. Ben Ellmans nephew Lucas Ellman blew sax in the family tradition, while Corey Henrys Bone Battle with Jonathan Lloyd was riveting. Living Colours Corey Glover got the Led out during Kashmir, Boots Riley felt the vibes and served Chali 2na a few cold ones as they traded verses over Stanton Moores brute beats, culminating in a flamboyant spit-sesh on From the Corner to the Block. The boys celebrated the birthday of baby-faced bassist Robert Bobby Mac Mercurio with jubilant NOLA flair.

Saturday

Chapter 2 by Jon Prins

The annual Eric Krasno & Chapter 2 barnburner at Uncle Charlies Porch Stage was its usual scrupulous self. With able subsidy from Nigel Hall, Adam Deitch, Louis Cato, and a procession of other ragers, The Royal Family was officially in the building. A guitar gambol through Get Back got the loudest response, yet the Deitch/Hall/Cato piloted fusion funk was full of hard-driving breakdowns. Broadcasting unremitting soulful salutations – the aural equivalent to DJ Premeirs record crate on a random Tuesday – these hip-hop junkies excelled at snappin necks.

The First Family of Bear Creek, Royal Family absolutely runs shit every year. 2011 saw DR. KLAW, Lettuce, Chapter 2, Soulive, and a pile of sit-ins from the Shady Horns sound the shofar, letting funkateers know exactly what time it was at any given hour. Its the closest thing in La Cosa Nostra to an authentic hip-hop crew, each member bringing a certain steez to the equation, and the whole vibe soaked in wet, beat-mining mathematics.

Greenhouse Lounge engulfed the Purple Hat Stage mid-afternoon, and the North Florida trio was supported en masse. GHL jammed Aphrodite and Michael Jackson through a blender to maximum effect, their searing set a touching swan song for drummer Jason Honeycutt. Return to Jedda was raw jungle bliss, and sacred hymn Sands sent the drummer off in stratospheric style. Adding insult to onslaught was a robust reworking of the King of Pops Scream

Medeski Martin Scofield and Wood by Jeffrey Dupuis

Funky Meters welcomed an endless pageant of friends for the ultimate New Orleans family reunion 500 miles East. The JBs Pee Wee Ellis (World is a Little Bit Under the Weather), Ivan Neville (Aint No Use), Ian Neville and Nikki Glaspie from Dumpstaphunk, and NOLA all-star Billy Iuso (who was there all weekend with his wife and their three children) all joined hands. Set highlights included a stimulating People Say, Fiyo on the Bayou and the omnipresent Cissy Strut.

The New Mastersounds boogaloo bang theory is play enough undeniable rare grooves and people will dance their asses off. Robert Walter, Johnny V (Pure), Roosevelt Collier (This Aint Gonna Work), Zach Deputy, Marco Benevento, Michelle Sarah, and more hopped onstage with the British bandits over the course of two sets on the Porch Stage.

When the august Lower East Side freaks added a dignified maestro, Medeski, Scofield, Martin & Wood were astounding. A swingin Little Walter Rides Again, Warhol-ian Beatles cover Julia, Hottentot, and seminal A-Go-Go all exemplified MMWs dexterity with John Scofield. Hushed tones came over the audience as a steady selection of jaw-droppers piled one atop another with focused resolution. Roosevelt Collier joined the fray, weeping lap steel, Johnny V. brought patented NOLA shuffle to Yoo Yoo Ma.

Lettuce by Jon Prins

Juiced up and staggeringly tight, a well-oiled machine (thanks to the Royal Family Ball Tour), Lettuce torched the stage both nights they performed. These may have been the bands finest hours. The unthinkable happened – an instrumental take on Jay-Z & Kanye Wests banger N*GG*S in PARIS – followed by Thrust-fueled funk calisthenics. It was murder! Lengthy passages of instrumental boom-bap paid homage to the late James J Dilla Yancey. This band is Voltron – individual vehicles joined together to form a giant super funk robot.

Purveying endless workouts with uncompromising fury, Lettuce would repeat nary a song over two days, the band, internally battling in hip-hop tradition, with either Kraz, Neal, Jesus or Shmeenz sneaking in undeniable samples/teases into fills and measures. A careful listen revealed snippets of Roy Ayers, Grover Washington Jr., JBs, Parliament and Herbie, as well as countless classic golden-era hip-hop breaks. Lettuce remains in permanent scholarship, dishing out bombastic bear hugs for the forefathers. When Nigel Hall finally took the stage, exclaiming he was home, the adulation was overwhelming. Hall and Lettuce broke out the D.C. Go-Go with Making My Way Back Home where Lettuces full-tilt rage upped the ante for the festival headliner to follow.

TAB by Jon Prins

Trey Anastasio Band was Saturdays night main event, and there were no other options for almost three hours. The amphitheatre transformed into an iridescent wonderland full of vivid colors and lights illuminating the already breathtaking surroundings, and when Trey took the stage it was indeed surreal. For 150 minutes, the once and former Jedi led his revue-like backup band through atypical versions of classic TAB vehicles. Trey spoke to Bear Creek directly, bantering about the roots of the solo band and how many of the first songs came together, the commentary a slow burn until breaking the news that this would be the last gig for this band for a very long time. The unmistakable emotional quality of the Music Park was not lost on Trey, a fitting choice for quite possibly the last ever show of this bands incarnation.

Aided by prodigious keyboardist Ray Paczkowski, Anastasio flexed within vamps on Simple Twist Up Dave, Sand, Mr. Completely, and First Tube. Small Axe (instrumental was the closest Trey came to ethereal during this set and an animated run through The Devil Went Down to Georgia inspired the regional redneck within. Jennifer Hartswick s femme flow on the Gorillaz Clint Eastwood and set-closing larceny on Zeppelins Black Dog drove Bear Creek ecstatic. The adoring crowd was blissfully adrift, but injecting myself into the moment, Id dreamt it up a certain way. In the end, Treys bark was loud, but his bite wasnt vicious.

Jennifer Hartswick by Jon Prins

Hartswick stuck around to front her own (considerably better) gig 90 minutes later, a performance drenched in the spirit of Bear Creek- something her bosss revue was criminally devoid of. Flanked by a fierce band (including Natalie Cressman from TAB, and former Beyonce/current Dumpstaphunk drummer Nikki Glaspie), Hartswick cut loose with compelling soul music. A star-turn from Nigel Hall (Here I Go Again), a potent spot from the Snarky Puppy horns (Blame it On the Boogie), and a mystifying take on Erykah Badus On & On all delivered.

Fans split between midnight sets from electronic duo Big Gigantic, rising stars Dopapod, and the annual Dumpstajam, a Jazz Fest inspired super-jam led by the Dumpstaphunk krewe. Breaking out Sly Stone (I Want To Take You Higher), The Rolling Stones (Miss You), and Parliament (Dr. Funkenstein), the squad included Zach Deputy, Eric Krasno, Billy Iuso, Shady Horns, Skerik, Jonathan Lloyd, Andrew Block, Matt Grondin, Will Bernard and more. A fifteen-minute What is Hip? soared into the night.

Adam Dietch by Jon Prins

Any ode to Bear Creek simply must acknowledge the fest within the fest that is the presence of modern electronic music. While it is a funk-fueled party, each year electronic music evolves and aspires to new heights this weekend in November, and 2011 would be another crowning achievement. Beyond headliner Big Gigantic, the popularity and groundswell of support and promotion for independent electronic artists is amazing, and effective. A parade of innovative scientists blessed Bear Creek, from the big stages to the silent disco to deep in the woods. My own experience delivered different ends of the spectrum: Michal Menerts psychedelic figure skating enhanced by violinist Leo Kulishevsky. Gramatik and Sir Charles worked the tent to a frenzy well into morning hours. Zoogma and Greenhouse Lounge drew mighty and enthusiastic crowds of dancing freaks to the Meadow Stage, their fresh breeds of blend furthering the search for new land. Buzz about Papadosios special Music Hall set traveled speedily, as did the raving about electro-synth discotech that was JunoWhat?. DJ Craig Heneveld spun a coolout set at the Brotherly Love Productions site for a final comedown. Its obvious to all Creek veterans that the electronic music lane is crucial and essential to this festivals experience, and for old school ravers Bear Creek is as PLUR as you get.

Deep into the morning, Break Science again proved why they are the best duo in live electronic music. Dishing out devastating blends of hip-hop, breakbeat, dubstep, soundsystem, tech step and a myriad of points between, Adam Dietch and Borahm Lee reinforced revolutionary bass music spliced with verbal jousts from Outkast, Rick Ross, and Talib Kweli. For an encore, Break Science merged marching band, Afrobeat and the spirit of Aphex Twin with Glaspie and Topaz in tow.

Sunday

Marco Benevento by Jon Prins

Jacob Fred Jazz Odyssey served notice that new-era Fred is still the first frontier of modern jazz. Focusing on their more recent reincarnations, pianist/founder Brian Haas led the troupe through an atypical Fred mind-fuck. Lap steel maven Chris Combs and drummer Josh Raymer harnessed the intricacies in JFJOs structures through substantial use of odd time signatures – 3/4, 5/4, and beyond. Hard swing stood front and center, providing sturdy foundations for many a Rhodes convulsion from mad scientist Haas. Through zealous melodies and rhythms bordering on panicky, the music was at times nostalgic, grandiloquent, sorrowful, and ultimately a celebration of the limitless resiliency of jazz.

Immediately thereafter, Marco Benevento blessed the afternoon with a second set of distinctive material. A ragtime piano duel with Robert Walter on a boogied up cover of Amy Winehouses Baby, Youre No Good provided a stirring moment. The Bangles Walk Like An Egyptian and Elton Johns Benny and the Jets got the trio treatment. Marcos set was most impressive when he coalesced with virtuoso bassist Reed Mathis and drummer Andy Borger on frenzied takes on originals RISD and The Real Morning Party. Benevento finds himself in bloom at Bear Creek, swilling Makers Mark onstage with a shit-eating grin before matching Haas tweakery with his own wicked concoctions of upright piano, toy noisemakers, obscure synths, and tube amplification. Benevento is always a joy to observe at Bear Creek, his unmitigated art on childlike display.

John Scofield by Jeffrey Dupuis

Jennifer Hartswick was again in the middle of the hot stuff on Sunday, beginning with The Trio, followed by a one- off with George Porter Jr. and Johnny Vidacovich, which saw Freekbass join the mix. Later, her set with Van Ghost on the Campground Stage was a tranquil treat, where the Chicago crew broke out favorites from Warren Haynes (Soulshine) and La Roux (Bulletproof).

John Scofield and Piety Street was yet another Crescent City treat. Home to a legendary recording studio in a hood steeped in music tradtion, Piety Street is an apt name for this mighty assemblage of NOLA royalty. George Porter Jr. and drummer Shannon Powell anchor Jon Clearys piano, and they dont just back the masterful Scofield – the legends served as guides through the distinct sounds of NOLA neighborhoods. It was idyllic for a Sunday afternoon, debauched gospel with jazz affectations and a funky good time, too.

Skerik by Jon Prins

Most of the Artists-at-Large coalesced for the tremendous Orchestra-at-Large set mid-afternoon. Led by Bay Area jazz guitarist Will Bernard, an awe-inspiring assembly including (but not limited to) Pee Wee Ellis, Johnny Vidacovich, Robert Walter, Reed Mathis, Jamie McLean, Nikki Glaspie, Marco Benevento, Jonathan Lloyd, Topaz, Skerik, Roosevelt Collier, Scott Messersmith, and Billy Iuso. Lengthy, crucial runs through Snakes and Spiders and Doc Watson embraced the communal spirit and permeating funky undercurrents of Bear Creek. When Corey Glover emerged for the Sly Stone number Thank You (FaLettinMe Be Mice Elf, Agin) this Orchestra was a Funk Supreme.

Lettuce took the stage for seconds and more obliteration was on the menu. George Porter Jr. and E.D. Jesus Coomes squared off in a bass duel for the heavens, Crip-walkin low-end theory with uncompromising crunkadelics from Deitch (the Boy Wondrah!). Kraz tore into the hard-hitting jams with maybe his best-ever tone. Need to Understand raised the terror level, but it was a double encore that sent shook ones into the night. New song (tentative title- Mean Funk) was the perfect amalgam of a Diamond D break and a punishing Clyde Stubblefied rumble, and Reunion was bruising; an apt and emphatic sendoff.

Ivan Neville and Nigel Hall by Jeffrey Dupuis

Sunday, Dumpstaphunk closed down the festival as per tradition. Clearly reinvigorated by the addition of drummer Glaspie, Wartime and David Bowies Fame were brilliant, commanding displays of might from Ivan Neville, Ian Neville, Tony Hall and Nick Daniels. Ryan Zoidis of the Shady Horns and George Porter Jr. assisted the fitting NOLA toast from the Suwannee stage to its spirit.

Tradition and collaboration is the lifeblood of this familial gathering on the Suwannee River. Once again, the annual Sunday night Tree House Staff Party jam was extravagant (catering!). Dozens of artists passed the groove, as marquee names congregated with up-and-comers. The Flood in Franklin Park, starring Walter/Roberts/Deitch and augmented by a circle of friends, was the spirit of the Creek soundtrack. The result was a glorious blend of jovial music and the magic of community set by a campfire at the foot of a tree house. Like nearly everything Bear Creek, you had to see it to believe it. The remaining minions drank and danced on the final moonlight mile, hugging and chanting a legend that swells with majesty each revolution around the sun.

11/10/11 – 11/13/11 – Bear Creek Music Festival @ Spirit of The Suwannee Music Park (Live Oak, FL) View Photos

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