we somehow missed the fest last year, so it was especially killer to get back to the fairgrounds this go 'round. didn't matter that the crew was collectively working on about 18 minutes of sleep from the night before . . . the fest just exudes energy. we set up camp in front of the main stage and let the festivities commence.
the weather was sunny and warm, and a positive vibe greeted us at every turn. the headliners on thursday included Sonny Landreth, the North Mississippi Allstars, and John Mayer.
North Mississippi was the best of the bunch, but a group called The Benjy Davis Project had a killer garage-band-before-it-goes-big sound. turns out we were sitting right next the parents of the band. was pretty cool watching the beaming elders cheering on their offspring.
at one point, the proud mama next to me leaned over and said, "i just bought him that guitar."
"well," i relayed back to her, "he's definitely putting it to good use."
however, it was a player of a different ilk who stole the show. some time mid-groove this crazed cat set up shop at our camp calling himself "Voodoo Daddy."
sporting a funky jester's hat and a strong personality, Voodoo Daddy was fixated on two things: chasing the buzz and chasing the tail.
somebody said later that they heard Voodoo Daddy is actually a stockbroker in atlanta the rest of the year. well, on this particular day, everything was a "buy." the brother must have picked up a minor in pharmaceuticals along the way, 'cause our boy was packing.
Voodoo had this way about him that was at once both overbearing and endearing. it was a trip watching this paradox play out. one moment, some lass would be tossing a beer in his face. the next, she'd be sitting in his lap.
since Voodoo did very little discriminating and was truly oblivious to rejection, the drama played out all afternoon. he had two categories for everything he saw: "jester likey" or "jester no likey"
we saw Voodoo Daddy a bunch of times throughout the rest of the weekend. he returned to the bojon camp each day bearing gifts and talking smack.
i'll never forget one of his comments. somebody asked him what he was going to do that night, and he replied, "i'm gonna zig, and i'm gonna zag, and eventually something's gonna bite." what a beauty!!!
as a general rule, it pays to budget room at the fest for randomness. this can come in the form of killer bands you've never heard of or whacky characters you've never met.
the verdict on the Voodoo Daddy effect: DOUBLE THE BUDGET!!!
