PHOTOS: ELENA HIBBS | It is my entirely biased opinion that the South has the country’s best music festivals. Austin has SXSW & ACL, Tennessee is host to behemoth Bonnaroo (along with the jorts-ridden CMA Fest), and New Orleans stages the grandaddy of all modern music fêtes, the Jazz & Heritage Festival. Slowly, steadily, and with a confidence born of experienced execution, Louisville’s annual Forecastle Festival has risen to join the ranks of these elite gatherings.
Founded eleven years ago by John Kelly “J.K.” McKnight, from the start, Forecastle emphasized “music, art and activism,” as their slogan declares. The festival grew naturally and received a major boost when McKnight persuaded Bonnaroo founder Ashley Capps to partner with him and bring the organizational strength of Capps’ AC Entertainment to the Louisville event. Though it is tempting to call Forecastle a “mini-Bonnaroo,” it has its own distinct personality, reflecting the charm of its host city.
Located in a Waterfront Park along the Ohio River, Forecastle’s nautical theme blends naturally with its surroundings. With plenty of adjacent parking, hotels and easy Interstate access, it is an ideal setting for music connoisseurs wanting maximum enjoyment with minimum hassle. For three days, artists from a plethora of genres appeared on the site’s four stages and delivered a joyful noise that even Mother Nature couldn’t drown out. Being Kentucky, there was also bourbon. Barrels and barrels of bourbon.
DAY ONE | Florida’s Roadkill Ghost Choir did double duty, treating the media attendees to an acoustic set at the opening press conference and then plugging in for the first performance on the (second-to-biggest) Boom Stage. Their haunting, Radiohead-y sounds had some festival officials predicting they would soon follow hometown deities My Morning Jacket to headliner status. Bob Mould roared onto the Boom Stage next and enveloped the crowd with his trademark sonic assault. Performing songs from across his career, it was a joy to hear Hüsker Dü, Sugar, and solo material brought to full-volume life with the help of bassist Jason Narducy and drummer Jon Wurster. Mould noted that they were “his second longest-serving band” and would soon be his longest. Agile as they are, I still couldn’t help but miss Grant Hart. Ah, faded youth.
As the last chord of “Makes No Sense At All” decayed slowly, we made our way to the Mast Stage, home of the festival’s headliners. Indiana’s Houndmouth were three-quarters of their way through their set, making us wish we’d arrived a little earlier. That sadness was quickly erased as the mason jars were lit and Nashville’s Old Crow Medicine Show rolled on. An instrument-swapping seven-piece string band, they delivered old-timey music with the ferocity of a heavy metal band, and the audience responded in kind. The crowd singalong during blues standard “C.C. Rider” almost drowned out the band, even with the help of the mega-watt P.A. With each band member given the chance to take the frontman role for a song or two, it’s hard to imagine a more democratic combo.
Pulling away from the OCMS orbit was difficult, but we dashed to the (third biggest) Port Stage to watch Nashville’s rapidly ascending Moon Taxi. Prepped for a new album release in September, Mountains Beaches Cities, the band already displays the command of a veteran ensemble. Following Moon Taxi and a delightfully weird encounter with a 12-foot tall Hunter S. Thompson puppet (he was a Louisville native, you see), it was back to Boom for Young The Giant.
YTG have been studio-bound recently, and this was a rare live outing, at least until their new album is completed, tentatively scheduled for a January release. They used this opportunity to debut two new songs, “Firelight” and “Anagram,” which were received rapturously. Midway through their performance, a fireworks display erupted over the river, adding an exclamation point to a wonderful day of music. After YTG, we walked to the Mast Stage area and caught part of The String Cheese Incident’s performance, standing near the back of the crowd so to take in fully their enormous light show. Wowza, that’s a lot of LEDs!
DAY TWO | Sarah Jarosz got things started in a fine acoustic fashion on the Boom Stage. We then took a festival break to chat with Wayne Coyne of the Flaming Lips on their bus, parked right next to the cresting Ohio River. (Full interview coming soon!) When we emerged, we found the site being evacuated due to a pending thunderstorm. We waited out the delay in an adjacent parking garage while the festival’s extremely well-executed phone app kept us apprised of the situation. The downtime was brief, not quite an hour, and the stages were back up and running quickly.
Dawes helmed the Mast Stage, happy that their appearance had not been washed away. Back at the Boom Stage, Kurt Vile tore into his catalog with a vengeance. Dressed all in white, he resembled a deviant angel, spreading six-string sacraments with abandon. Again, we found it hard to leave, but we strolled to the Mast Stage to catch fleeting glimpses of the Alabama Shakes through the huge crowd. With not a hope of getting anywhere close to the stage, we listened from the sidelines while savoring some delicious bourbon-soaked brats. Good one, Kentucky!
Speaking of the Commonwealth, Louisville’s favorite son, My Morning Jacket’s Jim James, was due next on the Mast.Weaving our way through blanket-land to the front (“HEY! Don’t step on that!”), we positioned ourselves directly in front of James. The good vibes flowing from the crowd gave James such a lift that at points he seemed to levitate as he turned in a flawless performance.
Moving quickly to the Boom Stage, we found an overflowing audience ready for the Flaming Lips. The rain had not washed away their colorful costumes, nor had it dampened their enthusiasm in the least. Wayne Coyne ascended his throne-like platform as a conquering hero, delivering declarations via microphone and bullhorn while he shone his self-described “pot light” on various individuals. Yes, they did realize. Thanks for asking.
The Mast stage atmosphere, so peaceful for James, turned aggro as The Black Keys emerged. The capacity crowd was ready to rock from the downbeat, causing arms and elbows to swing with abandon. We got a few pics and then retreated to safety as the audience undulated wildly. Ah, testosterone.
DAY THREE | Nashville’s The Wild Feathers kicked open the festival’s third day with a brief, brisk set on the Port Stage. They won’t be openers for long. Strolling around the park, we saw parts of Bombino and Toro Y Moi on the Mast Stage, bringing a welcome world music flavor to the rock-heavy lineup. Likewise, El-P & Killer Mike broke the EDM hegemony on the Ocean Stage, slinging hard rap and heavy beats to energize the afternoon.
Defying their band name, Grace Potter and the Nocturnals emerged in the merciless afternoon sun and made it even hotter with their incendiary set. Dressed in a self-described “glittery bathrobe,” Potter owned the stage as several of her contemporaries watched from the wings. Mid-set, Grace grabbed the mic and, unprompted, asked, “Who out there loves vinyl? There’s something about vinyl that just feels so much better!” Ah, Grace, you had us at “glittery bathrobe.” Flying Vs forever!
As the crowd swelled at the Mast Stage in anticipation of Robert Plant’s performance, so did some ominous clouds on the horizon. Plant entered with his latest band, The Sensational Shape Shifters, and opened with “Babe I’m Gonna Leave You.” So much for ignoring the legacy! It was quickly followed by a spirited rendition of his solo hit “In The Mood,” which saw Grace Potter dancing with abandon stage side. Plant paused to address the adoring throng, planting his tongue firmly in his cheek as he said, “Welcome to a nostalgic ‘70s afternoon. We bring you a program of soft rock and R.E.O. Speedwagon tributes.” More solo songs along with reworked Zeppelin tunes followed, including Charlie Patton’s “Spoonful,” an African-flavored “Black Dog” and a note perfect “Going to California.” Resplendent in his black suit and strong voice, Plant was every inch the rock god. About an hour into the show, the clouds grew too threatening to ignore and Robert was given the “wrap it up” signal. He insisted on performing one more song, the Led Zep classic “What Is and What Never Should Be,” which ended abruptly as the skies opened up.
Running for the shelter of the highway overpass, we were thoroughly soaked. Once the storm passed, the festival crew worked feverishly to dry the stages and resume programming. Meanwhile, we bore witness to a time-honored tradition: the belly flop festival mudslide. In fact, our brat order was delayed due to the booth’s chefs competing for “longest slide” honors. Thankfully, once it finally arrived, my brat was completely mud-free.
Miraculously, the last scheduled set of the festival by The Avett Brothers began only 15 minutes later than originally planned. By now, you know what to expect from the A-Bros: ringing acoustic guitars, rousing choruses, banjos, walking celloman. They delivered all that in spades, with an additional dollop of “We’re going home!” glee as this was their final show of this tour leg. The waterlogged crowd hung on every word and were considerably mellower than the Black Keys’ congregation. Maybe it was the music or maybe it was the large presence of self-medicating herbal enthusiasts, but whatever the reason, this bunch was full o’ peace, love and understanding.
Wrapping it up around 11:30 PM, the Avetts took a final bow, and with that, Forecastle 2013 was in the books. My advice would be to start clearing your July 2014 schedule now and bookmarking the Forecastle site for ticket information. It’s a show you don’t want to miss. Plus, there will be bourbon.
