Hey Music Lovers!

In my 40th birthday year I finally went to New Orlean's Jazz and Heritage Festival, otherwise known as Jazz Fest. I had been wanting to do it for years and decided the 40th year was a good time to realize the goal. Jazz Fest is a sensualist's dream: non-stop music of all kinds -- blues, rock, jazz, gospel, cajun, zydeco -- for four full days, lots of opportunities to dance, the best of Louisiana cooking, and people walking around scantily dressed (which isn't always a desirable thing, but work with me on the image I'm trying to create here). Friend Elisa has accompanied me each time (although at some point I think I began to accompany her) and we have evolved a delightful routine of music, rest, food, more music. I have been 4 or 5 times since, missing only due to unemployment or to attend a wedding. So even though it is hard to muster any sympathy as to why I missed it this year, I was a little nostalgic for it nonetheless.

Then I heard about the Southern Hemisphere's answer to New Orleans' Jazz Fest -- the East Coast Blues & Roots Music Festival -- four days of non-stop music, not as large as Jazz Fest, but certainly enough to keep anybody happy. I had first heard about it from an Aussie I met in an Auckland hostel and then went to the web to get more info. I planned my whole Australia itinerary around attending this event -- you have to know that I'm not kidding.

I bought my ticket as soon as I landed in Melbourne, Australia (which was a good thing because four day passes sold out shortly thereafter). I quickly went to work on finding cheap lodging in the very popular surfing beach town of Byron Bay, a tough task given that it was also Easter weekend, and lots of Aussies like to come there for the holiday. You can see why; it's a lovely beach. I came in a day earlier than planned so I could get lodging -- if you're there the rule of possession takes over and you've got a bed for as long as you want it.

The first day was started off with seeing an Aboriginal dance performance. Again, I wanted to join in. In addition to hearing good music, I spent part of the first day assessing the "scene," and on the second day, look who came with me:

That was the same day I was befriended by a dozen Aussie guys. You tell me -- coincidence?!

In case you are not a Deborahworld Calendar Reader (you should be, ya know, lots of important what-is-she-doing information there), I'll list (in no particular order) the highlights for me over the four days: Emmylou Harris, Joan Armatrading, Tony Joe White (who? remember "Pokesalad Annie"?!), Little Feat, Marva Wright and the BMWs (saw her 3 times -- she usually plays at Jazz Fest!), The Waifs (an Australia band sounding a bit like the Indigo Girls with more sass), Roy Rogers & the Delta Rhythm Kings, Ben Harper and the Innocent Criminals (the younger set went nuts over him, having no idea that his opening number was a very well done cover of Jimi Hendrix and that that was Led Zepplin at the end of the set. Frankly, I liked his ballads best -- sorta Richie Havens with more soul -- but his guitar playing was quite good, and his band very tight.), Dom Turner & Supro (an eclectic Australian band), Jack Johnson (think Donovan meets Dave Matthews), Janis Ian (who told great humorous stories between songs), Little Milton, and Australia's biggest rock band, Midnight Oil, below.

The festival was a wonderful break in the constant on-the-move travel I had been doing and it made me feel "normal." I spent several days in Byron Bay, ruing that I couldn't take surfing lessons because of -- altogether now! -- the broken toe! (I swear that eventually the toe heals and no future stories will bring it up), and enjoying the beach.

Some of you Calendar Readers have asked me why I felt I had to escape the town of Nimbin shortly after the festival. I had decided to go to Nimbin for the weekend, a hill town that had been described as Australia's alternative capital. Silly me, I thought they meant that it was alternative in an economic, governmental, community structure sense. Apparently I had the wrong brochure. The correct brochure would have told me it was POT CITY! And speaking of brochures, I chose my lodging based on a flyer that said the owners were distressed that the town had become a place where people just drove in to buy drugs and left, not really understanding what Nimbin was all about. This just fed my fantasy about experiencing a true alternative community. Yet, when we arrived, the owner -- while explaining to us that it was not a good idea to buy drugs in town (aw, he's concerned for our well-being, I thought) -- very matter of factly mentioned that he had organic marijuana available instead!

Then I met the other guests at the Rainbow Lodge, some of whom were even able to speak intelligible sentences. The next day, I took a brief tour of the town, declared it Loserville, and planned my escape -- which was tough due to the lack of buses on a weekend. Finally, I got a ride with a woman to Brisbane. Don't get me wrong, I'm no angel and I think marijuana should be legalized, but I found people who based their entire existence around pot to be very depressing. Thus, I left smoky Nimbin as soon as I could. But disturbed as I was, the happy memory of the Australian Blues Fest could not be diminished and it remains one of my Australian trip highlights.