REPORTING LIVE: CAMP BISCO 2011 DAY II
Mad-hatted Raja Ram joins his partner in crime Simon Posford for the first live Shpongle performance in the U.S., generating an electric storm on Day II at Camp Bisco X.
An army of black clouds amassed above Camp Bisco X around 6:45 p.m. on Friday, Day II.
“Quick, we have to run back to the car and get hoodies before Shpongle!” I shout to my Attorney through the gathering wind.
Everyone is running towards their camp sites, and those who don’t bother to look up or don’t care are running in all directions to get to other shows.
“Rain!” “It’s going to rain!” “AHHHHH!” “Storm’s a-brewin’!” Shouts, cheers, and claps accumulate as fast as the clouds.
"IT'S GOING TO RAIN. LET'S RAGE!!!!"
...one kid’s voice rises above the rest as he challenges the storm to try and stop him from seeing the awesome acts of Friday at Camp Bisco.
The day started out sunny and cool. After stepping, shivering but clean out of the ice cold shower because I had to do interviews that day and didn’t want to look like the dirty hippie I actually was, I wandered unstably, creeped slowly into an empty media tent and unleashed Day I stream of consciousness onto my laptop.
As I typed furiously, the Bisco Avengers stumbled one by one into the tent, until at 9:30 a.m. I looked up to meet the four sets of eyes that belonged to my bleary-eyed comrades. By that time I was almost finished writing, slightly mad by this point.
“ARE YOU GETTING THE INTERNET?”
The rest of the press people all seemed kind of scared when I throttled them with this, which leads me to believe I must have looked unhinged: defeated shrugs, terrified head shakes and confused “no’s” were all I heard.
We were simply in another world. No matter how many media managers reported the problem into their walkie talkies, and how many girls in the media trailer tried to help me (which one time led to them completely deleting my airport), Camp Bisco seemed to be in both a time warp and a black hole that blocked out the World Wide Web.
Around noon the head media guy held an impromptu meeting about the Internet problems. He told us the Internet would be up in five (it never was) and then announced that as of 6 p.m. on Thursday, Camp Bisco X was officially sold out at 22,000. We all cheered.
Some kid wearing a bright green shirt and suspenders with unregular curly hair poking out from under a backwards baseball cap strolled into the tent. He would later become one of my best friends at the festival, introducing me to Jon Gutwillig and the bassist of Lettuce and starting my friendship with Zebbler. He texted me this photo he took from backstage and got us into any part of the festival we wanted. Wearing the same shirt and suspenders for three days straight, he exists in mine and my attorney’s phones only as “Dex Motha Fuckin Ter” of UNRegular Radio.
“WHAT’S UPPPP EVERYBODY?” he says as he enters the media tent, as a Joker-like smile spreads across his face.
In a flash, he swivels to face me: “You’re cool.” He says, pointing at me, then plops into a chair with his boys and starts rolling a j. The rest of the media people stare at him with disbelief as I laugh loudly, interrupted by a text from my iPhone.
“Hi, Lauren. This is Anne Cole. Would you still like to interview the bassist of the Easy Star All-Stars?I can set it up before their show.”
“YES!!!!!!” I scream as everyone in the media tent looks at me like I just keep confirming how nuts I am.
The Easy Stars are on at 2:15 and it’s around 12:30 now, so that gives me a good amount of time to think of the best things to ask them. Unfortunately, the interview is right now.
“AHHHHH!!!!!!” I unleash a blood-curdling scream.
I didn't have anything prepared, but I figured I'd take on the attitude I've had the entire festival and wing it, assuming it would work out for the best.
When Ras I Ray walked jovially into the media tent with sunglasses and the hat he later called his “crown,” I knew it was going to be great. I gave him the biggest hug and told him how much fun I had at his show. You can read the interview here, but Ray had a lot of insight and was laughing the whole time.
He said all he wants is for his music to move the crowd, to make them want to dance, and for everyone to “feel the love”—that dynamic of shared bliss I was talking about earlier, how everyone at festivals is so happy to be here that we all get along.
Ray on winging jam seshes on stage: “You know, where you just POOF and it just happens, nothing predicted,” Ray explained. “And I love it. I love the spontaneity, it makes things fresh.”
After telling him how I loved the Easy Stars and had a blast when I saw them play their Beatles tribute album two years ago in Philly, Ray's response let me in on the reason he loves playing music:
“To hear that coming from you, that makes it all worthwhile,” he says, leaning closer and pointing at me with an earnest expression on his face.
“They don’t have to pay me to do this, because I love it.”
An hour later, I demand to know why the Internet is still not working before grabbing my attorney and sprinting to the huge field in front of Main Stage A for the Easy Star set at 2:15.
Everyone is dancing and “feeling the love” that the Easy Stars are spreading like wildfire—a wildfire caused by a joint dropped in the grass. The merriment is contagious, I hear joyful exclamations when they cover “Time” by Pink Floyd (how cool is it that Easy Stars AND Pretty Lights manage to take the same song and do two polar opposite things with it, both equally good?).
Easy Star All-Stars - Time.mp3 by zergut
We all bounce and sway and the smell of dankness fills the air as the Easy Stars flow seamlessly from “Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Dub Band” into “I Get By with a Little Help From My Friends,” surely an anthem of Camp Bisco X. We’re all so exhausted from Day I that a laid back reggae show is just what we need.
“For a minute, I lost myself… I lost myself….” we sing as Ray fulfills his promise of playing “Karma Police.” This is true, though we probably lost ourselves yesterday for a much longer period of time. Or found ourselves.
As Das Racist brings Brooklyn beats to upstate New York and pumps up the crowd, more off his feet than on them, turning us into a mass of jumping hip-hoppers, I almost lose my shit when a kid walks by wearing a chicken head. I spin around and a full chicken is walking towards me. Perplexed, all I can do is embrace him.
To everyone’s disappointment (if any shred of disappointment can possibly exist at Camp Bisco X) Red Man is MIA, but the drummer of Break Science seriously destroys their set as he fuels RJD2’s sinister space ship synth.
“Everybody keep your hands up there!” the synth player of Break Science shouts and raises his free hand, pumping it up and down with us to the sick beats. I understand why they call them “Break Science,” because their percussive talent defies all physical laws.
One of the best parts of their show is when RJD2 thanks the guys of Break Science for their awesome beats, to which the Adam Deitch responds:
“Yo that’s a legend right there, you all say thanks to RJD2.” The crowd cheers.
Shpongle Live was my favorite show at Camp Bisco X; it was pretty unbelievable. The only thing I could think of from the moment they took the stage at 7:15 was: how the hell are they DOING that?
Photo by Zebbler of the Zebbler Encanti Experience
The show was a total sensory experience, an expansive performance: complete with cello, violin, laptop, synths, dancers, male and female vocals and spoken bits, acrobats in yellow and black checkered pants and masks, outrageous costumes, lights, all mixed together … the group hits all the senses in all the right spots. Multi-layered sounds, multi-dimensional feel. Shpongle Live is a melting pot of musical genres from all influences.
Together, the talented Simon Posford (dazzling us with his expertise as he played the guitar, two synths, and his laptop all at the same time with ease), accompanied for the first time in the U.S. with his partner in crime, Mad-hatted Raja Ram (dancing animatedly whiled playing his flute like a mystical minstrel or court jester), as well as Joe Russo (drums), Pete Callard (guitar), Harry Escott in his glittering silver shirt (cello), Janey Choi in a zebra-striped dress (violin), Jonathan Shaw (bass), the two enchanting vocalists Abigail Gordon and Michele Adamson, and special guest Encanti (on stage behind the mixing board) orchestrate a symphony of magical psychedelic sounds and classical and jazz instruments. The music has a downtempo, chill out flow, but is so layered that as jammy as it is, it carries a surreal power. It doesn’t matter how far you are from the stage, because Shpongle’s music is so all-encompassing that it fills the sky. (Photo by Zebbler of the Zebbler Encanti Experience)
Photo by Zebbler of the Zebbler Encanti Experience
It’s as if the peacock feather in Simon Posford’s hat is magic, bending as he swerves between instruments, controlling the weather. As the music filled all of Camp Bisco likethe dense smoke rising and floating out over the crowd, a storm gathered above us, and Shpongle Live brought rain. The scene was gorgeous: a subtler-than-usual light display, soft blues, lime greens, and hot pinks reflected off the rain drops, and twenty minutes into the set I realized it was pouring, but it didn’t matter: the rain was absorbed into the squishy muddy field without disturbing the music. Plus, the lightning they generated created a natural light show that transcended the stage.
Opening the show with “Divine Moment of Truth,” the band also played "I Am You" and “Around the World in a Tea Daze” with Ram playing spacey, flitting flute that match echoing vocals and smooth dances, undercut with darker violin lines. Ross brought us all together with his deep, steady beats as we swayed in unison.
“You’ll remember this song,” Posford told us, and I imagined him winking as he picked up his guitar and started ”Dorset Perception.”
I was elated, becoming a dancing gypsy during my favorite song of the set, as my hands floated to a cacophony of sirens’ voices, Middle Eastern guitar riffs, trippy synth sounds driven by light-speed drum rolls between a deep, steady beat, catapulting us into another dimension of sound.
Out in the crowd, beach balls bounced around blow-up turtles on sticks and balloons floated lazily before being propelled back up by smacking hands. Raja Ram entertained us all with his alien instruments, running around the set and making ridiculous faces while mouthing some of the weirder sounds, and sharing the stage with a huge contorting rainbow slinky.
When the set ended I had no idea what just happened, but knew that performance was going to be nearly impossible to beat. I squelched into the artist lounge, soaking wet with that exhilarating feeling you get after one of the best shows you’ve ever seen, even running into my friend Brian, as we released our excited comments about the show.
“Seeing him DJ in Boston was cool, okay, but seeing them live truly showed Simon Posford’s musical talent,” Brian said with sincere respect.
Then Simon Posford walked in and I lost my shit yet again. Stuttering like an idiot, all I could manage to say was that their show was my favorite, and could I please have a picture?
The rest of the time I hung out with Dex, Zebbler, and Encanti, doing silly things and talking to them about how the Zebbler Encanti Experience has been touring with Shpongle Live. They’re heading to Canada now (OH, CANADA!), but Zebbler couldn’t get his passport in time, so Encanti’s going to fly solo for this one—but Zebbler is excited to meet back up with the band on the west coast in Portland, OR on July 15th.
Shpongle Live, we shall meet again at the music festival that puts all others to shame: Burning Man (fellow performers include EOTO, Infected Mushroom, Random Rab, and the Zebbler Encanti Experience!!).
As it rains harder people start going nuts. The ground has now turned to goop, and with every step I have to use all my strength to rip my flip flops out of the mud. Camp Bisco has become a huge slip and slide, and I run onto the grass so I can take off my shoes. Thick layers of wet mud squeeze between my toes. I am going to be so disgusting tomorrow, but after that Shpongle show I don’t really care what happens from this point on.
Kids are running and sliding around me, playing like we’re all ten again. Ratatat was phenomenal, though squished between yet another two Bisco sets like the mud between my toes. Everyone is wearing ponchos and playing "slap the bag," chugging wine. I turn to the kid next to me: "I don't know how they're doing that, I feel like if I tried I'd just drop dead."
“PAGING DOCTOR FAGGOT!” a shirtless, muddy kid with a crazed look in his eye says in the goofiest voice into an invisible mic as he walks by, after which my attorney and I burst into a fit of laughter.
Yes, I would like a vegan burrito with extra hot sauce. Wait, no, I can’t really manage to eat that. Playing with glowsticks, standing for entirely too long in front of the string-lights booth. Trying and failing to convince people to let us buy food with Canadian money and talking to a kid about Sherwood Forest at Rothbury. I look over and everyone is sliding and rolling with a river of mud down the hill next to the Silent Disco stage. One kid puts his palm against the back of his unsuspecting friend’s head and throws him down into the mud, then gasps as his friend grabs his foot and pulls him down with him into a fit of laughter.
Late night mud party? I think so.
Check back for the epic Day III at Camp Bisco X Thursday.
