The Good old Fashioned – Cliff Compton
I went to the Good old Fashioned Bluegrass Festival again this year. It’s become a good habit. One of them happy habits. One of those day’s circled on the calendar. One of those good reasons to be alive.
I remember the first time I went, to the old campground. It was dry and dusty, and hotter than any place had a right to be, and I parked in a bad spot, where the air never moved and the sun shone directly into the back window of my van at exactly the time of day that I took my nap, and I’d wake up dripping, having hallucinogenic dreams like a resident in an Indian sweat lodge, and though the jamming was wondrous and liberating, I wasn’t sure I would return.
Ah but, you know how that goes. I came back. Again and again and I found cooler spots, and great people, and of course all that fine music.
And I loved the main stage, with the tweener stage on an L to the side, and I loved the variety and the headliners and the fact that you never knew what kind of wonder would grace the tweener stage.
And over time I began to feel like part of that family, falling in love with Bean Creek and Side Saddle and Houston jones.
And then there was the first stage…Out there between the R.V.’ s and the last year, I saw Regina Bartlett as I joined her, to help back her up with a motley group of her friends, all glad to see her shining, as she gave us the best she could give. I thought to myself at the time; there’s something special about this performance…and there truly was. She died later that year, and I’ve got her hat hanging on my wall to remind me of what I’m missing.
I M.C.’d a couple of times and after I lost a ton of weight, I danced myself silly feeling like a new man, and I sang my heart out at some late Saturday night party jams, and yes, I almost forgot the heat and the dry air and the brown semi dead grass.
But this year the good old fashioned moved. Just a little way down the road to the San Benito Historical society grounds, and ohhhhh my. What a difference! The music was still wonderful. The people were still more fun than a hat full of Mexican jumping beans, but now…
The first thing I noticed coming in was that it was noticeably cooler than the old fairgrounds, and there were trees every where. I saw green grass and old farm implements and split rail fencing. There was a series of restored old town buildings and a great wooden stage that reminded one of the old west back when banjos were backless and Martin guitars were not even a gleam in a luthiers eye.
As it was the first year there, a few issues needed a bit more time to resolve. Potable water was not available, but the historical society had an ample supply of bottled water, and I’m sure if someone was determined to find fault they could probably find something to complain about, but they’d have to work at it.
My band played Sunday and it felt good. It felt sort of like some bodies large living room.
And I’ll be back, every time I can. My guess is you’d be glad that you came…if you come next year.
