| What is it about the annual Woodford Folk Festival pilgrimage that keeps luring me back every year? Is it the festival site, nestled in a beautiful valley near the sleepy hinterland town of Woodford? Is it the constant smell of narcotics wafting through the camping grounds? Is it the non-stop barrage of performers from all realms of the musical spectrum? Or is it that after making the pilgrimage for the last 5 years, the thought of seeing in the New Year elsewhere seems sacriligious? Whatever the case, I was grateful my finances kept me at home for the first two days - torrential rain wreaked havoc on punters and performers alike, and the festival site still bore the scars on my arrival. |
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To my dismay, The Big Top stage had been replaced by a more conventional marquee-like setup (Carnival Stage just doesn't have the same ring to it), Pizza Loca had gone to the great fast food vendor in the sky, and the Chai Tent had been converted from Percussion Jam Central into a chill-out venue, much to the detriment of all concerned - alright, as a drummer I'm a bit biased, but the festival just didn't seem the same without the ominous strains of tribal drumming in the background. But within an hour I'd already bumped into 10 friends, some I hadn't seen since last year's festival, and my qualms were forgotten. The first mission of the day was food, and I found myself at The Sitting Duck Cafe where Maleny poet Arcadia Flynn was launching her book "Funny Poems". Some of the poets published in the volume strutted their stuff, with the highlight being "Of Labels and Babels", a Nimbin poet's perspective of the stereotypes foisted upon people in the northern New South Wales dope-growers haven. Brilliant wordplay and bloody hilarious to boot. |
| Over at The Carnival Stage, a cobbled together group of 15 musicians were unleashing some of the wildest jigging music I've heard, kind of like The Merrie Melodies Orchestra touring the Meditterranean as part of Michael Flatley's backing band! It sounds like a recipe for disaster, but the amazing musicianship on display earned them a well-deserved standing ovation. As I strolled towards Fluid Druid Headquarters to fill up my vial (water is the most valuable commodity at Woodford), the beautiful vocal sounds of an unknown band were wafting out of the Chai Tent. With an Indian drone instrument called a Shruti Box as accompaniment, the girls ethereal harmonies cast a spell on the punters trying to escape the afternoon sun. |
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As I settled down for my first beer on the Blues Stage hill, Jeff Lang took the stage. This man is nothing short of inspirational, mixing some tasty slide guitar work with a powerful voice and some absolutely cracking songs in the confessional singer-songwriter mode. And what a guitarist he is, playing the most laidback lead lines in one breath, ripping out a killer riff in the next, then unleashing incredible Eastern-flavoured lead runs whilst all the time setting the tempo and intensity with his stomp box. A cover of Tom Waits' "Goin Out West" and the rollicking bluegrass of "Elvis Is Still Dead" stood out in a set which had world domination written all over it. |
| Back at the Carnival Stage, Fourplay were beset with all sorts of technical hitches (the Curse of the Big Top perhaps?), but made a big impression with their novel take on the cover band. The Sydney-based string quartet combined their prog-rock flavoured original material with sensational versions of Jeff Buckley's "Grace", "On The Road Again", "My Baby Don't Care For Me", and a Led Zep medley complete with the "Black Dog" signature riff and Jimmy Page-esque solo on the violin! Songs like "Grace" and The Police's "Every Little Thing You Do Is Magic" (their encore and show-stopper), brilliantly orchestrated songs in their own right, really lent themselve to this treatment, though exactly how they manage to pull off The Beastie Boys' "Sabotage" has me baffled! |
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Australian Blues Legends Chain were next to take the stage, and Matt Taylor, Phil Manning and Co showed the youngsters that they can still pump it out with the best of them after 30 years in the business. Some of the newer tunes were a bit too polished for their own good, but as soon as they kicked in with the signature riff from their 70s classic "Black and Blue", all you could do is sit back, tap your feet, and join along in the catchcry of "We're Groaning!". Down and dirty blues at its finest, and Manning proved he's still got both the licks and guitar faces to keep doing the rounds for a few more years yet. |
| Longtime Woodford favourite Kristina Olsen made a welcome return this year, and continued to endear herself to the festival patrons. The Californian songstress is the consumate performer, relating anecdotes to the audience with all the intimacy of a conversation over a cup of coffee, passing the time between songs by taking the piss out of herself and Americans in general, but still not afraid to throw in a bit of seriousness every now and then. And the audience hung on every word and note she and local cellist Peter Grayling played - the music had such a sense of space that at times the only sound coming from the venue was the hum of the PA. |
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"You guys have the best players in the world in Australia," said Kristina, and Jeff Lang and harmonica player Tim Conway from The Backsliders promptly joined her on stage for a run-through of "The Big O", known by common consensus as "The TV Song". The Aussie musos weaved their magic around Kristina's hilarious tale of the night the TV broke down - describing the song is pointless, you've just got to hear it to appreciate the wit and incisiveness of the lyrics. Come back again next year Kristina! |
| As the laidback blues boogie of The Backsliders took over the Carnival Stage, Reddog decided to take in the sights and sounds of Woodford at night. There was simply too much to see, with the complex percussion assault of Bubada Dubada at The Chai Tent, a concert in the open-air Ampitheatre featuring Tulipan and The Toothfaeries, and the madcap spirit of Hurly Burly at the Under 18's Oasis Stage. There's nothing quite like a hurdy gurdy in full flight, and the sinewy grooves of Hurly Burly inspired many a young punter to indulge in some wild dance moves. |
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But we were all here for one reason, and in the immortal words of Bill Lawry, there was a definite buzz around the Oasis as The Bird began assembling their gear. I first saw The Bird amid the hay bales of the Chai Tent at last year's Woodford, where this previously unheralded Sydney act blew everyone away with some of the most primal techno I have ever heard. The word has clearly spread since then, with techno bunnies and hippies alike cramming in for a good spot on the dance floor. |
| After a seemingly endless war with the sound guy, drummer Ben Walsh and tabla wizard Bobby Singh kicked into a frenetic breakbeat groove, Simon Durrington started pulling out those trademark spacey riffs on his Roland Junos, and the crowd became a seething mass of humanity, yelping with delight at every twist in the musical journey. These guys are absolutely amazing - as soon as the first percussion build-up ended and the beat kicked in, the Endorphin rush flowed through my whole body. My 13 year-old brother, seeing The Bird for the first time after over a year of listening to my gushing praise, declared emphatically that "That made my week!" After cutting loose for an hour on the dancefloor, Reddog was done for the day. |
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