Pickathon 2022 Pop-in

My brother Rob set me up with a one-day ticket to the 20 year tradition music festival on Portland's east side this past weekend. So, rather than spend the day sanding, I ran with the bulls at Pendarvis Farm. Today's post is a collection of observations. Like any cultural anthropologist, I bring with my observations a bias from prior experiences (Black Sheep, 4Peaks, NW String Summit, Horning's Hootenanny, and ChinookFest). I can't ignore all that, so understand that my opinions stem from what I saw at those other festivals.

Parking

Margo Cilker

Obviously any festival starts with getting there and back. With the significant increase in housing development around Pendarvis Farm, the festival site seems to be contracting. This year, there were significant issues with parking, and some persons who bought weekend parking passes found themselves parking either within the housing developments or at a shuttle-served lot a few miles away. We were fortunate in that we were able to find a spot in the blackberry bush strewn overflow parking complex Saturday morning. I say complex because it was a hilly area with mixed bushes, trees, and ravines, making the "lot" a labyrinth. Lotyrinth? Finding the car in the dark after many more cars appeared was especially challenging. For the beverage consumers, this would have been a very effective sobriety test.

Get In to Get Lost

Once parked, the entrance, and pretty much the entire festival, was effectively unmarked. You knew you were at the entrance simply because that was where some folks were walking in, but it was a 1-person wide breach in the fence marked by a guy sitting in a folding chair. The wristband tent was well run (though, again, the signage was virtually absent), and once strapped, Rob and I headed uphill on the gravel driveway towards the crowd. Our passage was interrupted by what would become a very familiar pair of catering tables on either side of the walkway, with a 8" x 10" sign reading "Bag Check". Here, they confirmed you did not have any alcohol from whence you came.

Cherry Hill stage

The "Bag Check" sign was the only consistent sign I recall seeing. The stages were unlabeled. The trails were unlabeled, so were the barns, leaving you subject to finding maps, which were posted in a few spots around the festival grounds. Unfortunately, they did not include a "you are here" marker, so the maps really only served to taunt you with seeing where you wanted to be, without actually delivering what a map usually delivers: a route to take to get there. Any time we were walking around, I really had no idea where I was or how to get where we were going. "Rob, you're driving," was a familiar refrain. He had been to Pickathon a bunch of times and had been at this event for the prior 2 days... and even he had to check himself on where we were and how to get where we wanted to be. It was a rolling navigational pop-quiz. Frankly, something as simple as a single central post with arrows pointing in the general direction of the stages would have helped.

Beyond the lack of signage and having to pass through security twice every time we went to the Woods stage (or to the barns) and back, Pickathon did a great deal of crowd management through frustrating clear paths with fences or other obstacles. A route would look clear and then you would get to the end of the path, terminating with a small "artists only" or "staff only" sign and a security person. My last complaint / observation is the dust cloud. Rob and I both wore masks most of the time for CoViD reasons initially, but found them to be critical in keeping the dust out of our lungs. I still had considerable brown junk in my nose after wearing the mask all day because the event staff were not watering the trails we were allowed to use. At other festivals I have gone to, this is standard fare: those 4-wheel golf carts would run water sprayers on the main trails to cut down on the dust. Even in festivals based on the desert (4Peaks, eg) would do this, and the water in Bend ain't cheap. The dust management, when combined with the forced-crowd routing, was a major miss.

Vending

After all that complaining about logistics, the vendors were fantastic. There were probably 25 different food options, including beer and pizza offerings at the remote stages. The lines were fairly long all evening, and they did not move terribly quickly, but the prices were reasonable ($16 for a burrito, eg). 

Because Pickathon is a waste-free event, you need to buy or rent a plate or utensils for food and buy a cup for drinks. I had not seen a waste-free festival before, and now, in retrospect, this was admirable. There wasn't any garbage anywhere; no litter, no overflowing garbage cans, etc. The location between the food vendors and the merch tent where one could purchase these items had no line at any point that I can remember, even during the heavy dinner food rush. If you did not want to buy, and wanted to rent, the exchange took place there, with a return (no cash back, you got a food/drink chip) after you visited a washing station that was kinda far away. I got a burrito and skipped the whole commemorative plate thing, but the concept and execution were impressive. Other festivals could learn from this.

The merch tent was efficient and had lots of swag for both the festival and the artists. Of all the festivals I've been to, I think this merch tent was the best supplied. Considering how many artists appeared, having shirts and recordings for what seemed like every artist was no easy feat. I grabbed a poster, rather than a T-shirt (I can see the poster every day, the T-shirt comes up in the rotation, like, once every 6 weeks).

Camping

Bella White

Neither Rob nor I camped, but some of Rob's friends were in the car-camping area closest to the festival grounds. So, we visited long enough to get a sense of the scene. The car-camping zones were set up on slightly sloped, open field about 10 meters wide by, maybe 100 meters long with a fire lane along one side and a fence along the other. Cars were parked two or three deep against the fence with canopies and tents intermixed in between. Everything was close together for sure, but Rob's friends had a large rectangular canopy under which they spent the majority of their awake-but-not-at-music time. They seemed quite comfortable.

The tent camping seemed to be pretty much everywhere, at least in the treed areas; the open ground around and between most of the stages hadn't any campers. Once in the forest, however, it almost seemed like if there wasn't a trail or a tree, there was a tent. Of course, we did not hike into the deeper areas, but we met a friend who was camped at the furthest end and she indicated that when she arrived (early-ish Thursday) the best, flatter spots at the outer edges had already been taken. She had to clear her own spot with clippers. We joked about bringing a machete next year.

Unlike the other festivals I had been to, it seemed like the camping spots were really just used for sleeping, and no one was hanging out there. The only exception to that, other than a handful of close-in car-campers, was the hammocks. Those who brought hammocks had them strung between trees and appeared to spend most of their time lounging in them. At least, that is how it appeared, as they were there whenever we padded between stages. Even the RV zone appeared empty during the day.

Music

Garcia Peoples

Of course, the main reason for going to a music festival is the music. When Rob invited me to go on Saturday, there were 2 acts I really wanted to see: Built to Spill and Quantic. I had never heard anything by Built to Spill, but numerous people in my past have raved about them. Quantic, on the other hand, I had listened to here and there since the late 90's, and I really liked his original material. Rob had a few more on his "really want to see" list, and then had a bunch circled for otherwise open time slots. Below, I'll list who we saw in the order in which we saw them.

Jake Xerxes Fussel - Afterwards, Rob described him as a "white Taj Mahal". I thought that was generous. Jake's vocal range is much more narrow than Taj, and his guitar work was nowhere near Taj. After 3 songs we felt like we had seen everything he had to share and we left for the Woods stage to see Margo. Jake was an otherwise open spot on the schedule for us.

Margo Cilker - from Rob's "really want to see" list. They were amazing. Her lyrics have genuine word-smithing that far surpassed pretty much everyone else we saw. Margo was joined with backing harmonies by her sister, and there are few things as tonally perfect as sibling harmonies. When Boo and her sister sing together, it is magical. Add to that the lyrics, the melody lines and a tight performance group, and they really stole the festival for us. Her stage banter was approachable and created understanding for the next piece well. Seriously, for a first artist of the day, she could have been, and, arguably, should have been much later in the day. Still, the Woods stage represented, and gave her the love deserved.

Frankie and the Witch Fingers - We stayed to the very end of Margo's set and then had to navigate the bag check between the Woods stage and the others. By the time we got to the Grove, Frankie and co were deep into it. What we saw was punk, basically, complete with crowd surfing by some of the younger set. We were fairly far back, so the sound quality was not very good, so we didn't stay. Rob's friends said they were great, and they were in front of the sound board.

The Feels - We caught the tail end of the Feels set after tasting Frankie and the Witch Fingers. They were tight with a hard edge. Apparently, Pickathon was their last series of shows, so I'm glad we saw what little we did. The musicians look fairly young, so this isn't a case of retirement. More likely, some artists are heading into different directions. It will be interesting to see where these folks go.

Quantic

Rachel Briman - From Nashville, Rachel was chosen because we had an open time slot, we hadn't been to this stage except for one song by the Feels and it was surrounded by trees. Rachel is a multi-instrumentalist, appearing with a banjo, guitar and violin during her set. Unfortunately, the soundcheck appeared to have not gone well, as it was still ongoing when her set was supposed to start. The sound system was definitely not ready: we did not hear the guitarist at all for the first few numbers and of all things the drums weren't loud enough. Most unfortunate, though, the entire main was not loud enough. So, neighbors having a conversation at normal conversation volume were louder than the stage, and when Rachel was talking, we couldn't make out what she was saying. By the middle of the set, the mix was better balanced, though still way too quiet, but we could tell that she and her unit were good instrumentalists. The sound guy earned an F; total fail, go back to school.

Bella White - I don't remember where Bella was from or how we came upon her set. We were fortunate to get standing room directly behind the soundboard, though. As flat-awful as the sound guy was for Rachel, this guy was great. At the start of each song, he would jump on the sliders and make the mix spot-on perfect. As her set was starting the DJ at the stage behind us, unfortunately, did not get the memo that his set was over, so for Bella's introduction and first song, we had to strain to hear through a later Phil Collins recording. Yes, that's right; Phil Collins from a DJ. Wow, seen that now. Bella appeared with a violinist to her right and a standup bass to her left. They were really good, putting them in my top 3 for the day. Bella brought a charisma to the stage that no others did that day, drawing you in with vulnerability, wanting to hear more of her stories. Great harmonies, really sweet violin. Like Margo, we stayed to the very end, and also like Margo, we were sad her set was only an hour long.

Cherry Hill at night

Garcia Peoples - We headed down to the Galaxy Barn after Bella. We had an opening in the 5PM timeslot and we hadn't been inside a barn for a performance yet. The Galaxy barn is cool (quite literally. it is air conditioned), and fits probably 60 people. When it is at capacity, the air conditioning doesn't do much, but it feels very intimate. These guys were loud; like the Who loud. They were so loud that I pulled out the decibel reader on my phone to see how loud, and they were over 102dB during a quieter part of their 2nd song. I tapped Rob on the shoulder, showed him the reading and pointed my thumb at the door. He agreed and we hit the door. As to the show, their musicianship was really good. Their bassman was clever and laid down interesting lines while their lead guitarist shreded. They reminded us of Iron Butterfly or another late 60's riff-rock band, but their vocals were very disappointing, and the drumming was crude, like very early Black Sabbath (blacka-blacka-blacka) simple. We sat in the grass under a tree, where the outdoor speakers played to the "overflow" space for the balance of the set.

Quantic - We returned to the Woods stage (bag check again) after Garcia Peoples. We had an open hour, but the security lines were getting slower and we did not want to miss the start of the set. I have enjoyed Quantic's original material for literally 20+ years, but I had never seen him live. He rolled a "festival set" of danceable music that showed his roots (Afro-Cuban underbeat with some deep bass), but there was little of his original music in there. Still, he was awesome and the Woods stage crowd loved it. Of the entire festival, this was the only performance where the entire audience was standing if not dancing. Until this point, every other performance was witnessed by a 75% (or more) sitting crowd, with the standers usually along the outer edges, standing because there was no longer room to sit. No judging, just noticing.

Built to Spill - As the afternoon shifted to evening, the smaller stages shut down, but the security bag check lines were unrelenting. We intended to catch some of GZA, but working through the crowds really prevented that plan. We did catch a little bit, but then decided that scoring a spot for Built to Spill was a better use of a our time between. We set up right in front of the video camera tripod adjacent to the sound board. The vocal was low in the mix at the start, but that was resolved by the end of the first song. They rocked, and played past the end of the hour by almost 15 minutes. Oops. Such a good bass player, and the lead solos/jams were fantastic. How they could produce so much sound with so few players, I don't know, but Built to Spill were great.

Because of the different genre's, it's hard to say who was "the best" or my favorite. I think the festival day winner was Quantic simply because he got an entire crowd on their feet and dancing for over 30 minutes. Near the end of his set, I shot the imbedded video posted above. Having said that, my favorite was Margo. With Quantic second and then Bella, followed by Built to Spill. Everyone has an opinion; that was mine.

In the end, we really had a great time and I think the company I was keeping (brother Rob) was what made it so. Like Boo, he approached with a list of wanna-sees, but an openness to take what came, and change it up if what we encountered wasn't what we needed. I was worn out by the time I got home. A warm shower with a cold beer set me up for a long sleep. If you've never had a cold beer in the shower after a long hot dusty day, I strongly recommend it.

That's it. I intend to get back to Zed later this week / weekend. I'll post an update when I have one. Thanks, as always, for following along-

Black Sheep Family Reunion

The last weekend in July, Boo and I took a road trip to the central Oregon Coast mountain range for a multi-day music and arts festival.  This post covers the road trip and the festival.  Sorry I've been away from the blog for a bit.  It being Summer, I'm doing more, and writing less.  More content for later!

Drive to Waldport, Almost

Signs at Entrance

In another classic planning mishap, Boo had to work the morning we intended to leave for the Black Sheep Family Reunion music and art festival (BSFR).  Our destination was 3 hours by car (so 4 hours by microbus) and the gates opened at noon.  While Boo worked, I leisurely got the bus packed, and we hit the road just after noon.  Since Boo hadn't slept much the night before, she crawled into the back and napped after we passed Wilsonville.  She re-appeared between Corvallis and Philomath, joining me for the incredibly fun drive down OR-34.  The drive prior to OR-34 was typical Summer Friday freeway stuff: slow, hot and filled with impatient drivers.  The sides of the bus acted like the edges of a bubble, though, keeping that energy out, while allowing our smiles through.  OR-34 is a grapevine of switch-backs, steep climbs and drop-offs along the Alsea River.  As I drove it, I laughed with joy.  I dare to dream it in a sports car that's tuned for that kind of thing.  I imagine it would be spectacular.  We were buffeted by an older Subaru from a particularly angry pickup truck who appeared to flick chewing tobacco at us as he later passed.  Hilarious.

The BSFR was first marked with a small sign "300 feet" before the otherwise not-terribly characterized turn-off.  There was a small sign, though, and we were able to navigate it, bringing 2 others from the "main road" with us, including the older Subaru.  We climbed a narrow "this has to be the wrong" road, bore left at a "Y" which was marked with a simple arrow on a cardboard box onto a gravel road.  Holding Hapy at a 5mph lumber, we eventually happened upon a gate with a troupe of hippies hanging around.  "This must be it," Boo mused.  We were greeted with a chorus of "nice bus" comments, and a vague direction about continuing down the road to the next gate.

Camping the Glade

View of stage from bonfire

A few more turns and road dip/climbs and we suddenly were upon the festival camping.  We asked a Vanagon driver what we were supposed to do and he said "get out and join us for a beer".  LOL.  We ended up doing that later, actually, but first we met with the next clump of hippies running the place to get a camping spot.  At that second gate, we were waved to the side so the older Subaru could get by.  Turns out, the driver was the drummer for one the Friday bands (KrazyFingers, I think).  We later thanked him for running interference on the pickup, and we had a good laugh about it.  Once the Subaru was past, we were pointed to the grassy area just to our left.  "Just don't mess with my cones," he said.  We rolled over to where we were pointed and Kenny, a blonde-haired, beaded fella with a huge smile, waved us in, and helped us get level.  The rest of the weekend was spent making friends with that group of festers.  We even found Justice, a friend we made at Horning's Hideout Hootenanny over memorial Day weekend (See: So Starts Camping Season 2014).  Between acoustic guitars, bubble-making equipment and a soccer ball, the grassy glade had activity most of the weekend.

Events, Art, Food, Crafts

Black Sheep Circus

Once the pop-top was up, and the camp-couch pulled out, Boo and I grabbed a couple of beers and headed for the stage.  The main bowl was lined with craft vendors along "house-left" (left side facing the stage), food vendors at the back, circus acts practicing on "house-right" and a large installation art piece at the very front of "house-left".  There were multiple artists working on that large piece all weekend.  In the circus space, there were a variety of events happening.  Sometimes, there were jugglers or tumblers.  Other times, Kevin (neighbor from the Glade) would bring down his bubble-stuff and create massive bubbles that would float across the front of the stage.  The mixture of performance art and music was really fantastic.  I didn't know what to expect of the performance stuff, so I expected little; we were well rewarded.  The fire dancers on Saturday night (Black Sheep Circus) were really great, and, though we missed them, we heard that Circus Luminescence stole the show later that night with an interpretive performance about technology and how it's over-use is creating barriers between us rather than connecting as FB, etc promise to be.

Hiking
The venue offered more than just a stage and booths.  Being located in the middle of the coastal mountains, there were many acres of trails.  Boo and I went exploring with some of our new-found friends on Saturday, missing the early acts.  Mary Sue pulled us together and gave us a walking history of the festival while Doug and Paul played botanist, identifying plants for medicinal, recreational or food purposes.  We found a second venue where another festival stage could be used.  We saw old-growth forest, small one-tent dug-out camp spots sprinkled along the trails, deep ravines.  As much as the festival was a break from day-to-day work, the exposure to deep nature was especially unexpected and resonated deeply for the next week.

Abbreviated Music Review

Jug Dealers

No music festival attendance is without some form of music review.  We honestly didn't see many of the bands.  Some were really good, like Candelaria whose lead singer gave all she had wiggling on stage and belting out in Spanish to a well-kept backing band.  Jim Lewin was a festival highlight, getting called back for an encore while the Smirkin' Merkins were a definite must-miss.  Frankly, they were just awful.  Weird, poorly executed and for an afternoon festival crowd, their lyrics were highly not kid appropriate.  If they come back next year, I'll make a point of being far far away during their performance.  Late that evening, McTuff was dialed so loud that it hurt my ears, but they were so well mixed that we could hear them perfectly back at the bus.  We sat in the dark staring at stars while their music washed over us.  They were really good.  Just loud :)

The Jug Dealers were a band in need of direction: songs arranged with the female vocal as a lead were great.  Any tunes where the guitarist led, and she was supposed to be backing vocal didn't work as well (she just overpowered the lead, making the vocal line confusing).  Last, they had an older guy on house-right either painting a picture or joining on vocals.  He simply created chaos, honestly, and made them appear more amateurish than they really are.

Drive Home

Kevin and Mary Sue bus

Boo had to work Monday morning at 8:AM, so staying for the Sunday afternoon performances wasn't really practical.  Unfortunately, that meant we were going to miss Scott Law, Ducky Pig and Brothers and Sister; three bands we were aiming for.  Ah well.  The first year is to see if the festival is a fit.  Next year, we'll get more time off so we can do it start to finish.  Our new friends lamented our early departure nearly as much as we did, and we agreed to camp the same spot next year... for the full festival.  Hapy fired up on the first try, though we drove out of the festival grounds in limp-mode.  We stopped at a siding along the Alsea River and stood in the cool water to offset the increasing heat of the day.  By the time we hit Philomath, we figured we had pushed our luck on fuel, so we stopped.  We got over 38mpg on that partial tank.  yeah, that's right.  38mpg in a VW bus.  That's more than double what I used to typically get with the old 1700.  We stopped again at the Charbonneau District rest area to cool our heels, before the final push into Portland area traffic.  Because of some driving mis-arrangements, we collected T&C on our way through the southern end of the metro area.  While a wise use of time, it didn't create the buffer between our festival mental space and our parenting one.  That transition was especially hard.

That's it for today.  Lots of things going on, so lots of material for future posts.  As always, thanks for following along,

Scarlet Fire Department :-)