The morning of Saturday, July 5 started a little later than the past two days had due to a very late Friday night/Saturday morning. We awoke feeling fine, but a little funky, so we all dispersed in different directions to determine which showers had the shortest line. We were camped a short distance from one bank of showers, but these were the busiest of the bunch. After cleansing ourselves of the toxins we'd taken in over the past couple of days and enjoying a chompdown of our own, we decided to make the short trek past the monkeys (although not running during the day time, they were still rather psychedelic) into the main grounds for our third day of excitement. Unfortunately, our grand plans to wake up early and catch Dead Confederate and Trampled By Turtles didn't pan out, but we guess that's to be expected when you hit the pillow at 5am the night before. Nevertheless, the day had plenty in store for us.

Continue reading 'Rothbury Festival 2008 - Saturday Review' after the jump

On our way into the festival grounds, our attention was grabbed by the MASS/Earth Harp Interactive Performance taking place at the Tripolee Domes. We immediately noticed the strings of a large-scale harp attached to one of the domes and walked over to join the gathered crowd. We learned that this was the Earth Harp, the world's largest stringed instrument. It was designed and created by the group's artistic director with the intention of creating a unique interactive environment. With your hand gripping one of the dome's metal bars, you could feel the vibrations from plucked strings. During the next song, an aerial dancer exhibited her talents while suspended from a long swath of white cloth attached to the top of one of the domes.

During our slow journey in the direction of the media tent, we walked by Sherwood Court, where the Emmitt-Nershi Band was performing. We again found ourselves sidetracked. We were only able to catch a small slice of their show, but from what we heard, it seemed to be a good ol' time with some laid-back bluegrass. We were there long enough to hear a few great tunes, including String Cheese Incident's "Texas". The band mentioned that they would be playing a set in the Sherwood Forest later (if that actually happened, we weren't fortunate enough to be present). Reluctantly, we peeled ourselves away to split up and get to work. Toast headed out to catch one of his most anticipated acts of the weekend, State Radio, while Eggs and Cereal checked out the Secret Machines, with an eventual rendezvous planned at the media tent afterward. Jumping out of chronological order a little bit, during our meeting in the tent, we caught wind of an interview with the Emmitt-Nershi Band that would be taking place soon. Moments later, the band appeared a few feet away from us, instruments in tow. They answered some questions for Earphoria and played a few tunes for us all. It was quite the experience, and the acoustic bluegrass being sent our way made it even harder to leave the shaded area.

The Secret Machines, a psychedelic space rock trio based in New York by way of Dallas, had mesmerized Cereal and Eggs at the Voodoo Experience in 2006, so their set came highly anticipated. Their progressive stylings made for a hypnotic show. They don't attempt to dazzle the audience with stage theatrics or antics; they just deliver intensely solid, hard-driving rock with a simple bass-guitar-drums ensemble. Elaborate guitar manipulations, vocal distortions, and dissonant chords lent themselves to a heavier sound, and they often stretched their songs into coruscating experimental jams. "Alone, Jealous and Stoned" from the Machines' 2006 release Ten Silver Drops was a definite highlight of the set, building to a climax with majestic proportions. Dancing music it's not - the lyrics err on the side of melancholy and the music itself is simply too heavy for any sort of light-hearted hip swaying. But if you're in the mood for loud, spellbinding psych rock that draws out your past mistakes and then somehow makes them melt away, the Secret Machines are the band for you.

State Radio were next up at the Odeum, and Toast headed over to check them out. After a short delay, the Boston, MA-based trio made their way to the stage and wasted no time getting down to business. Compared with their set at Wakarusa last month, this one seemed a bit heavier, but in a good way. As the crowd began to steadily grow, lead singer Chad Urmston proclaimed that this was easily the largest crowd for which they'd ever played (Urmston, on the other hand, has played to much larger crowds; he sold out Madison Square Garden three nights in a row with his other band, Dispatch). The band ran through several songs off of both of their albums, including "People to People" and "Guantanamo." Urmston's catchy guitar riffs blended exquisitely with bassist Chuck Fey's reggae rhythms. With only a one hour time slot (which was further shortened by the delay), State Radio ended much earlier than anyone present wanted them to. With the addition of a trumpeter and a saxophonist as their brass section, State Radio ended their show with "Man in the Hall," announcing that they would have to omit the politically motivated "Sudan" due to time restraints.

Citizen Cope was next to play on Rothbury's main stage, so Cereal headed over to take it in. The band sounded pleasant enough, and Clarence Greenwood's voice was on point, but the thing about Cope is that their live show gives you a sense of déjà vu...and not necessarily in a good way. All the usual suspects from their catalog were brought out on display - "Son's Gonna Rise," "Sideways," "Let the Drummer Kick," and "Hurricane Waters" all got some amp time, as expected. This would be great for someone seeing Cope for the first time, but after a few too-similar shows it becomes a little tedious. Combine that with Greenwood's tendency toward repetitive lyrics, and you quickly begin to feel like you're trapped in a Groundhog Day-type situation and you're going to be stuck listening to "Bullet and a Target" every day for the rest of your life. Sure, there are plenty worse things you could be listening to, but it would be nice if Greenwood & co. would change up their shows just a little. One bright spot was "Brother Lee" from 2006's Every Waking Moment - it was more uptempo and broke the audience out of their awkward sways and got them dancing.

The Black Keys have been making waves in both the jam and indie worlds recently. This drum and guitar duo from Akron, OH made more noise than any other act we caught all weekend. Their high-energy set saw drummer Patrick Carney and guitarist Dan Auerbach twisting and turning through a blues-filled guitar-heavy set of mostly originals with the odd cover thrown in for good measure, including one from Captain Beefheart. At times crunchy, at times smooth, these guys made a statement at the Ranch Arena stage. Their stage presence added so much to their overall show, and they seemed happy to be playing at Rothbury. Of all the new acts we saw over the weekend, The Black Keys rank up there towards the top. We hope to catch more of them later this year when they make stops at Houston's Meridian as well as the Austin City Limits Festival in September.

While The Black Keys were delivering a heavy blues assault, Medeski, Martin and Wood were busy turning the Sherwood Court into an experimental jazz hall. John Medeski's organ filled the little spaces that weren't already occupied by Billy Martin's drums and Chris Wood's bass. Though we've seen them numerous times, their brand of acid-funk has never lost its flair. Aside from the headliners, their crowd might have been the most excited and energy filled of the weekend. The festival-goers packed into the front row of Sherwood Court were all absorbing every moment of the extended set as MMW tore through many of their classics. The setlist drew heavily from 2000's The Dropper and 2004's End of the World Party (Just in Case). You only need to listen to a few minutes of their show to understand why this group is one of the most respected and sought after bands in New York's experimental jazz scene. Unfortunately a few songs were all we could stay for, as we had to rush to catch Spearhead's main stage set.

Michael Franti & Spearhead are one of those festival acts that we never plan on seeing, but always end up catching. Franti's brand of reggae-tinged world rock usually has no problems filling the audience with energy. For us, however, Franti & Spearhead's stage show has become a bit stale over the years. He does make an effort to add new and different songs to his repertoire, but doesn't ever seem to change the formula or pace of his live show. As with Citizen Cope, this approach is great news for fans who haven't yet seen them perform live, but might not be the best strategy for attracting returning fans. He kicked off his set with two songs from 2006's Yell Fire!. Presently, he began working the crowd, treating them to continuous chants of his signature "How ya feeeeelin'!" while he danced around the stage. Highlights of the set were a rowdy "Stay Human" and the bass-heavy "Everybody Ona Move," which served as an exit point for us. We made our way over to the Ranch Arena stage just before Slightly Stoopid began their set.

Toast was able to catch Ocean Beach, CA's Slightly Stoopid a few months prior at a small club in Omaha, NE, and was blown away. Their set at Rothbury, while still good, was just no match for his previous experience with the smokin' act. They played several tracks from their new album Chronicitis, including "Digital" and "The Ocean," and it was great to watch them transition through myriad genres of music, including anything from punk, reggae, thrash, rock and even some hip-hop here and there. All the same, BOT was left feeling underwhelmed by this showing. We'd still recommend checking them out in a festival setting, but we think that they might be better suited to playing smaller venues (and turning them into mass smoke out sessions).

Meanwhile, over at the Tripolee Domes, LA-based MC Busdriver (also known as Regan Farquhar) was bombarding a microphone with rapid-fire wordplays often too quick for your ears to keep up with. The only real prior knowledge we'd had of Busdriver was through a brilliant guest spot on indie-rock heroes Islands' "Where There's a Will There's a Whalebone." We arrived at the domes during "Befriend the Friendless Friendster" and were quickly entranced by his delivery style. Bus Driver tosses off sarcastic metaphors at a rate that makes absorption virtually impossible - and then he moves on before you realize that he's making fun of hippies, hipsters, yuppies and probably you. But if you do manage to catch his caustic witticisms, it's hard to hold it against him because you can't help but gawk at him onstage.

Clad in a form-fitting pink t-shirt, a sparkly gold birthday hat, and a yellow and orange lei, Busdriver wriggled and twitched, sending his arms flying in all directions while producing lyrics at an astonishing speed. His brainy wit brings to mind fellow Los Angeleno rapper Pigeon John, while his backing beats at times garner comparisons to the electro dance rap of Philadelphians Spank Rock. Indeed, parts of the hippie-bashing track "Kill Your Employer (Recreational Paranoia Is the Sport of Now)" veered close to parallel with Spank Rock's "Bump." It seemed as though Busdriver was determined to prove that he can rap over just about anything; at Rothbury, he demonstrated his talent by performing material with influences as diverse as house, jazz, breakbeats, reggae - he even juxtaposed his vocals with a classical flute (on "Imaginary Places"). The results were often odd, but in a compelling - not dispelling - way. We weren't the only ones so fully taken in by Bus Driver that day; at the end of his set, the audience persistently called for an encore, prompting him to return to the stage. Looking a little bewildered, he addressed the crowd, saying, "We don't have anymore songs. We're fresh out. We'll come back. We'll be better. I did it enough."

Dave Matthews Band is the cause of much controversy in the BOT camp. Eggs has been a huge fan for many years, and views DMB as a sort of point of origination for his now wide-ranging listening habits. Toast once was big fan of Dave & co., but has slowly but surely shifted his interests elsewhere as they have experimented with different sounds. Cereal has a longstanding (14 years, to be exact) dislike of all things Dave related. Fortunately for DMB and their fans, Eggs is taking care of this portion of the review.

Recently hit with the loss of their keyboard player Butch Taylor and an injury to their saxophone player Leroi Moore, no one was quite sure what to expect from the band's roster at Rothbury. Filling the void left by Taylor, Tim Reynolds brought along his electric guitar and unleashed his skill on awestruck onlookers. Replacement saxophone duty for the evening fell in the capable hands of Jeff Coffin (Bela Fleck & the Flecktones); he had to read sheet music onstage, but still did wonders for their sound. I hate to say it, but he managed to build upon Moore's work with the band and make it even better. It was quite a treat to hear this difference with both Coffin and Reynolds, as DMB's shows have grown a little old-hat the past few times we've caught them.

Dave seemed genuinely happy to be taking the stage, judging by the wide smile on his face as he entered. He was up to his usual antics, filling his interactions with the crowd with humorous mumblings and nonsensical stories. They opened their set with a stunning fifteen minute version of "Seek Up," which Eggs had only witnessed once before. "Eh Hee," a tribal South African-influenced song released by Matthews last year, ran smoothly into fan favorite "Grey Street." "Proudest Monkey" proved an early highlight as the crowd became silenced by the quiet acoustic number. After renditions of "Satellite" and new song "Corn Bread," DMB took a stab at "So Damn Lucky," which was popularized by Matthews' solo effort Some Devil. The first time that Coffin's horn solo really stood out was during a version of "#41" that included a break into Bela Fleck & The Flecktones' "Sojourn of Ajourna." "You Might Die Trying," one of only two songs on the setlist from their latest album Stand Up, featured an impressive solo from Reynolds, and was closely followed by our highlight of the night, a cover of Peter Gabriel's "Sledgehammer" which found Matthews' voice sounding much like Gabriel himself. The rest of the show featured their heavy hitters with "Tripping Billies," "Jimi Thing," "So Much To Say," "Too Much" and "Ants Marching" closing out the set.

On Friday night, Widespread Panic didn't return for an encore, but that probably had something to do with the post-show fireworks. Because of this, we were unsure whether DMB would return to the stage. To Eggs' delight (and Cereal's utter irritation), the band returned with the notion of playing at least one more song. "Gravedigger," a song that at one time was featured only as an acoustic first encore song but later was recorded for Some Devil, was brought back to life by the whole band. Especially noteworthy were drummer Carter Beauford's amazing licks. "Louisiana Bayou," the other song from Stand Up played that night, came next and we feared that it would be the closing song. Our appreciation for "LB" quickly wore off during the last few tours (during which the band played it at almost every show), so we were hoping for at least one more song. They delivered by tearing through an on-point version of Sly & The Family Stone's "Thank You (Falettinme Be Mice Elf Agin)" to close out Saturday's festivities at the Odeum. While we had already heard Dave Matthews and Friends perform this cover before, this energy-filled sing-a-long is always a great way to close a show. After DMB finished and left the stage, the crowd took off towards the several choices of late-night acts such as A3, DJ Harry and STS9. Our plan was to hit up camp before returning to the main grounds and Sherwood Forest for the rest of the late-night festivities.

After equipping ourselves with cold-weather clothing and other necessities for the night ahead, we headed back to the grounds to decide where we should take our party train. Prior to the festival, we designated the late-night Saturday sets as time off so that we could have a little fun rather than just take pictures of people having fun. We walked by the Ranch Arena, where STS9 were busy taking their audience to the moon, but found ourselves drawn instead to the forest. It's an entirely different beast at night, and we'd spent the majority of our time running through it from stage to stage, rather than taking the time to enjoy what it had to offer. It was a nice change of pace to have ample time to explore the magical area.

A bit of a distance from the main path, we stumbled across a hidden stage, where a DJ (Harry, we were told) was laying down the grooves for all manner of after-midnight freaks. We spent 30 minutes leaning against tree trunks and just taking in the scene. We got a hankering to spend some time in one of the gourd-like structures scattered amongst the trees, so we scampered across the forest. Soon after seating ourselves, we forged a few new festy friendships and shared some conversation inside the gourd.

Crazy things happen at night in those woods, and even a sober person might think they're hallucinating. In the space of 20 minutes we spotted a guy dressed in a full-on dog costume closely followed by a walking skeleton, a lady frantically searching for batteries, many lost wooks, The Secret Machines, a woman with a huge spider contraption attached to her head, and a pelvic-thrusting poster hawker. But perhaps the most bizarre incident we witnessed that night stemmed from an act of apparent goodwill. A gentleman wearing a huge grin walked through the gourd behind one of our newfound friends, stretched his arm out, and with a purposeful flourish of the hand, dropped a mushroom onto the guy's lap. Unsure whether the transaction was imaginary or real, Eggs, Toast and Cereal immediately turned to look at each other. Hysterical laughter ensued, and we were unable to regain our composure for several minutes. When we finally calmed down enough to relate the story of the Fungus Fairy (no one else had seen it, not even the 'victim'), all of our circle-mates looked at us like we were nutbags and quickly departed. Apparently we were too much to handle. Meh - easy come, easy go, right?

We left our gourd in search of a non-brimming port-o-john and wound up at the Sherwood Court enjoying the sounds of The Crystal Method while getting some much needed relief. After a few minutes of dancing in the cold, we quickly decided to head back to the forest where the temperature was a tad warmer. We found a suitable tree to post up at as more and more night wanderers made their way into and through the woods. It was impossible to look anywhere without being greeted by visual stimuli. We thought we had seen some bizarre things earlier in the gourd, but those were mild compared with what we observed as the night progressed. While we were sitting there staring off into the night, one of the gourds suddenly erupted with a cacophony of voices: twenty or so people were all screaming for a guy named Carl. Moments later the whole forest had joined in the search for this elusive Carl character. It became a cycle of sorts: the hollers would eventually die down, ten minutes would pass, and from the distance we would again hear random shouts for Carl, prompting the rest of the forest join in the rallying cry. His name quickly became the most uttered word of the weekend, and after reading through a few threads on Infobury, it seems as though everyone had a story about Carl. There are even reports that a 'Where's Carl?' t-shirt was spotted at All Good Festival the next weekend. As for us, we felt a bit sorry for Carl (if indeed he was a real person). What if he was lost and in an altered state of mind, then suddenly heard a whole forest screaming his name? Hope you made it out alright, buddy.

On our way back home, we wandered by Roots of Creation, who were (still) playing a set in the campgrounds. Cereal had stuck around for a couple of songs near the beginning of their show as she walked (haltingly) in the direction of Dave Matthews Band. This means they must have started playing at 9:30-ish; it was 3 when we saw them the second time, and we heard them from our tent until about 6am. Jebus. Props to them for having that kind of stamina.

Saturday turned out to be pretty amazing musically and exhibited just as much diversity as the two days prior had. From the Secret Machines to Medeski, Martin and Wood, and The Black Keys to Crystal Method, Saturday offered a little of everything. Dave Matthews Band demonstrated why they deserve headlining spots by bringing in the largest, most die-hard audience of the weekend. People camped out front row throughout the whole day, just for a chance to get close to Mr. Matthews. Exhausted from the eventful day, we went back to camp, and fell asleep as the sun was slowly rising. It was our latest night by far, but we were on the final stretch with only a few sets of music to follow on Sunday.


Check out our other Rothbury coverage:
Thursday
Review
In Photos
In Videos

Friday
Review
In Photos
In Videos

Saturday
Review
In Photos
In Videos

Sunday
Review
In Photos
In Videos

-Breakfast On Tour