08-05-2009, 12:07 PM
Musically, I wasn't expecting much from RR. None of the acts held too much appeal for me. There was no one I had to see. RR has this history of having the best music during the DJ intermission interludes and the dancehalls, simply because that's all selected.
Friday, I caught Ras Michael and The Sons and Daughters of Negus which was enjoyable - a rasta elder backed by a nyabinghi circle chanting old Marley riddems. Love those big drums. Luciano closed and I remember thinking that was ok. There was nothing else of note.
Saturday, Ishi Dube sounded good but I didn't really get out to hear him. I was saving for President Brown, but then had this frustrating succession of piddly tasks that prevented me from getting out to the bowl for the entire set. Caught the beginning of Rootz Underground as a consolation prize, which was ok. Chezidek, Lutan Fyah, Capelton were all ok. Toots brought it home and many really loved that set, but for me, it seemed a bit slow for Toots. He still looks in great shape and has a phenomenal voice, but was playing more soulful and slow, and I was hoping for something more upbeat, like the old Toots, more high energy. Still, he has so many anthem tunes, it can't but be amusing.
Sunday, I didn't really tune into until The Original Wailers, which are always mediocre to me. As much as I love old Marley tunes, they have yet to secure a front man that can carry it. I felt I could have sung those better. Marcia Griffiths however looked fantastic and finally put some soul in the bowl, sweeter than Toots in a fashion because she was sampling tunes like Dawn Penn's No no no (covered by Beyonce & Rihanna), Eek a Mouse, Yellowman and even Jr Gong himself with a mellow spin on Jamrock. That was the best live performance. Aswad was funny. I totally forgot about Don't Look Back, which typifies the 80's UK pop reggae sound, all synths with a lazer beep accent. They also did my all time fav, Mossman Skank, which is a heavy heavy dub, made even more delicious since one of the top RR people and a dear friend is nicknamed Mossman. Gentleman was a lame closer but I had to run across the pit in front of stage for that to get to a nekkid tripper stage diver. I was nearly blown into the audience as I dashed past the subwoofers. It felt like being on the space shuttle when some one opens the hatch.
In the dancehalls, I had the most fun in the Cook's dome, which is incomveniently located about as far from the Dub lounge as physically possible. It was slamming. Club Umoja was the special VIP pass and was the lamest, filled with poseurs. South Beach was more traditional, just a bus, a sound system and a parachute tent. The speakers were positioned so I could hear it all night, even through my earplugs as I tried to crash. They went all night. In fact, when they stopped, I think that's what woke me up.
As for the trips, we got hammered on Friday and Sunday, the beginning and the end, the alpha and omega. There was a nekkid cowboy, a huge dude with ugly full body prison tats making gravel angels in the hospital, then sitting like a buddha in the middle, a borderline who claimed to suffer from traumatic induced personality disorder (wtf?), a kid that we found a friend, then the friend abandoned him, then got him to his tent, then he got up, then he ran to the sheriff and said "i had bad acid trip" and sat on their hood (bad move) - he was about to be tazed when a angel of a friend drove up and rescued him. This started a rumor that I got tazed. There was a dude that wanted us to rub his electroshock therapy scar and then claimed it was where he was growing an antler and another dude, 6' 6" who demanded Obama bring him a glass of water. Also, someone poured gas in a porta potty in a foiled terrorist attempt.
FUCK! I just got a call from the site. We had a death. FUCK FUCK FUCK!!!
Friday, I caught Ras Michael and The Sons and Daughters of Negus which was enjoyable - a rasta elder backed by a nyabinghi circle chanting old Marley riddems. Love those big drums. Luciano closed and I remember thinking that was ok. There was nothing else of note.
Saturday, Ishi Dube sounded good but I didn't really get out to hear him. I was saving for President Brown, but then had this frustrating succession of piddly tasks that prevented me from getting out to the bowl for the entire set. Caught the beginning of Rootz Underground as a consolation prize, which was ok. Chezidek, Lutan Fyah, Capelton were all ok. Toots brought it home and many really loved that set, but for me, it seemed a bit slow for Toots. He still looks in great shape and has a phenomenal voice, but was playing more soulful and slow, and I was hoping for something more upbeat, like the old Toots, more high energy. Still, he has so many anthem tunes, it can't but be amusing.
Sunday, I didn't really tune into until The Original Wailers, which are always mediocre to me. As much as I love old Marley tunes, they have yet to secure a front man that can carry it. I felt I could have sung those better. Marcia Griffiths however looked fantastic and finally put some soul in the bowl, sweeter than Toots in a fashion because she was sampling tunes like Dawn Penn's No no no (covered by Beyonce & Rihanna), Eek a Mouse, Yellowman and even Jr Gong himself with a mellow spin on Jamrock. That was the best live performance. Aswad was funny. I totally forgot about Don't Look Back, which typifies the 80's UK pop reggae sound, all synths with a lazer beep accent. They also did my all time fav, Mossman Skank, which is a heavy heavy dub, made even more delicious since one of the top RR people and a dear friend is nicknamed Mossman. Gentleman was a lame closer but I had to run across the pit in front of stage for that to get to a nekkid tripper stage diver. I was nearly blown into the audience as I dashed past the subwoofers. It felt like being on the space shuttle when some one opens the hatch.
In the dancehalls, I had the most fun in the Cook's dome, which is incomveniently located about as far from the Dub lounge as physically possible. It was slamming. Club Umoja was the special VIP pass and was the lamest, filled with poseurs. South Beach was more traditional, just a bus, a sound system and a parachute tent. The speakers were positioned so I could hear it all night, even through my earplugs as I tried to crash. They went all night. In fact, when they stopped, I think that's what woke me up.
As for the trips, we got hammered on Friday and Sunday, the beginning and the end, the alpha and omega. There was a nekkid cowboy, a huge dude with ugly full body prison tats making gravel angels in the hospital, then sitting like a buddha in the middle, a borderline who claimed to suffer from traumatic induced personality disorder (wtf?), a kid that we found a friend, then the friend abandoned him, then got him to his tent, then he got up, then he ran to the sheriff and said "i had bad acid trip" and sat on their hood (bad move) - he was about to be tazed when a angel of a friend drove up and rescued him. This started a rumor that I got tazed. There was a dude that wanted us to rub his electroshock therapy scar and then claimed it was where he was growing an antler and another dude, 6' 6" who demanded Obama bring him a glass of water. Also, someone poured gas in a porta potty in a foiled terrorist attempt.
FUCK! I just got a call from the site. We had a death. FUCK FUCK FUCK!!!
Shadow boxing the apocalypse