I’ll start this article off by saying that I am extremely biased when it comes to one of the festivals I am going to reference a bunch in this piece. I am lucky to film and engineer the artist sessions for Green Mountain Bluegrass & Roots and have had the honor of doing so since the festival’s first year. I’ve also had the pleasure of becoming dear friends with the founders and have my hands in the party mix of some of the other aspects of the fest as well. That aside, fests like GMBR, Ossipee Valley, Freshgrass (in its earlier years), Otis Mountain and Tweed River (RIP) (or even 1 day events like Seagrass Music Fest in Maine) always appealed more to me than your Bonnaroo‘s or even Grey Fox.
Newport Folk held a very special place in my heart for a long time (and it still does), but in more recent years coverage has defaulted to Ken for Fort Adams. I suppose I have kind of moved toward that 10,000 attendee mark as being a certain juncture point in my old, curmudgeonly late 30s. 1,000-4,000 is my sweet spot…the less folks the better. Maybe its my anti-social behavior patterns or the way that a smaller audience allows you to connect more with the experience, at least in my own mind. This is just one music lover’s opinion: But, it’s the little guys that shine the biggest and brightest for me and I’ll tell you why…
- Choices can be a difficult thing – Something that GMBR and Tweed River have done so well, and set out to do as part of their festival mantra, is limited stages and non-overlapping sets. Ken wrote in his recent article about how tackle Newport “You will not see and hear every magical moment” and I think in a lot of ways that’s part of the fabric of NFF. You could just be wandering around and come across something brilliant, but at the same time may be missing something else you really want to see. Its curated in a way that no two people’s experience is the exact same. Which, honestly, is pretty damn special in its own right. But with smaller fests, the very nature of the size may only allow there to be one stage. Or a main stage for the majority of day time performances, an evening dance tent and in the case of GMBR, the Lamplighter Stage that goes, well, until musicians feel like it. It gives you the opportunity to see the festival in the very specific way that the promoters have curated it. It gives the artists the kind of attention, from the whole audience, that each of their sets truly deserve. Both sides of the coin have their merits. But in the case of a lot of smaller fests, you get to see everything and be fully immersed in the experience that has been finely tuned and crafted for this specific event.
- The intimacy factor – There is no getting around the fact that less is more when it comes to an intimate concert experience. Particularly the special, quiet moments that can happen. Say what you will about him (or me), but I always wanted to see John Mayer trio in the basement glow of the Lizard Lounge in Cambridge, MA with like, 30 people in attendance. The dude can play blues guitar. That is all. There is just something more human and connected when you are one of the few experiencing something. Seeing the same strangers over and over again and giving that little “this is freaking incredible” smile and nod. Whether its a main stage performer wandering around the campground and stopping in at a random late night jam (or your own special late night jam with friends), the late night and dance tent stage moments or standing next to you favorite artist taking in whatever is unfolding on stage (next bullet point) there is just something so much more cozy about a smaller fest experience. I’ve been to Bonnaroo in its earlier years and some other larger fests, while it (and they) were a certain type of experience, you just feel like one in a million people in a crowd. It’s not better and it’s not worse, it’s just different.
- The Artist/Audience line is blurred – At some of the bigger festivals you look up at the stage and see artists (or special folks with special wristbands) on the immediate side of the stage. Taking in the tunes from the best possible vantage point. I get it. Artists of a certain career level are celebrities. If they were mixing in the crowd they may be overtaken with selfie requests or a barrage of “your first record meant so much to me” comments, which is all good and kind, but they are there to enjoy the music and events as well. I find myself at smaller fests taking a break from the constant photographing or getting golf cart rides for musicians to video shoot locations and seeing myself standing alongside the artists who just performed or will be later on in the weekend. Just enjoying the music. The setting and atmosphere at a smaller fest tends to create a sense of ease. Its like a big family reunion with a totally kick ass live soundtrack. Audience members know to not bug the artists and it creates this magical blending of where the artist and audience converge. Its where the most special moments tend to live
- The Camping Experience – When its 500 people, or 1,000 people camping in a field its a whole lot different than 75,000. The campground can remain cleaner. You connect more to the folks in your immediate area. There may be a stream flowing through the grounds that is clean and inviting and an early morning cold dip is just the thing to wake you up from the lack of sleep and caffeine you are just barely running on. Plus, lets face it, less people = less poop. The porta-potties are much easier for the clean up crew to keep up with (bless them with every piece of my being). The field still looks like a vast landscape of humanity, but things are more manageable. It’s more of a community and less of a calamity. Strength in Numbers…but not TOO many numbers.
- Smaller, local, central – We live in a world where everything should be moving in the way of being more localized. We should be moving to a way of living where people live in small pockets or communities. People barter for goods or services. There’s your local mechanic, your local farm (or farms), people who are good with technology, etc. Community. People helping each other and living in a more sustainable way. Being a smaller festival can allow for that in ways that larger scale can’t compete with. There are certainly mid to larger size festivals doing incredible things for sustainability, but being able to source vendors, services and everything from within 50 or 100 miles of a festival. That’s something to aim for. Bringing commerce to those working and living in a specific region. It also can (and should) be applied to artists. A strong focus on great local musicians and giving them a platform to share their art. That’s special.
I’m not saying you should stop attending larger festivals. I have had the time of my life at larger fests and made incredible, lasting memories at them. There is 100% a place for them in this world and people should experience music in a multitude of different ways. Larger fests do give up and coming acts platforms for a potential larger audience (that said, go see the side stages and check those acts out at a larger music festival). I just think there is a certain hype for those with larger footprints and larger budgets. And there are, of course, limitations when you are of a certain smaller size with budget and ‘artist fishing’ capabilities. When Machine Gun Kelly or Metallica or Drake are your top billing at a festival that also happen to feature smaller roots and rock acts, its going to be a much different experience than your festival with say, more local billings and folks with less than 1 million followers on their social accounts.
Red Line Roots started as a primarily folk/roots/bluegrass/songwriter kind of a publication. We are extremely rich and spoiled with the fact that within that genre umbrella artists tend to be truly humble and open/available with their fans. I think that the smaller festival community contributes to and fosters that special notion.
So, give a small fest a chance when you are planning your next year of music. Wait online for those tickets that sell out in 5 minutes, live those special moments each year but also consider the special moments that the smaller scale folks can give you. I am telling you from the bottom of my heart, its where magic lives and breeds.