Two weeks after returning from the 2011 Hangout Music Fest in Gulf Shores, Ala., and I'm still shaking sand outta my shit. Not that I mind, really, since every grain is a reminder of the spectacular time I had this past May — live music by some of my favorite artists who performed directly on the Gulf sands; a well-appointed condo on the water with a stunning panorama of the Gulf to wake up to every morning; and a solid group of friends to share the experience with and make it all the more enjoyable.
Our condo was situated roughly 0.8 miles away from the festival site, an easy 15-minute walk as we came to find out over the course of the weekend and thus perfect for taking a midday lunch break and refresher when someone was playing we didn't absolutely have to see.
By day, we soaked up the general sense of contentment and laid-back vibes that pervaded the place; you couldn't really hurry anywhere because of the crowds and sand, so the hectic race from stage to stage was replaced by a leisurely stroll and a blasé sort of attitude about actually making it on time. You couldn’t control the pace so why not eat an oversize corndog along the way? By night, we kicked it on the balcony, listening to the crash of waves on sand, and witnessing all-manner of ridiculous late-night beach shenanigans.
This is not to say there weren't issues in our little slice of paradise.
Three-day passes sold-out a few weeks before the fest, and the first and most apparent issue was that Hangout felt sold-out. Organizers seemed ill-prepared for the influx of people or how to properly direct and corral them. There was one main gate for general wristband holders (i.e., not press or VIP), which meant waiting in long lines to get into the fest, sometimes spending an hour or longer standing in the heat with several hundred other waiters. The entrance was also the exit, and at the end of the night, with the crowds, sand, necessary detours and frequent bottlenecks, it often took longer to maneuver out of the fest than it did to get back to our condo.
The two main beach stages were separated by a long stretch of mostly open sand, great for hanging out, not so great for quick (and non-exhausting) travel between stages, if you wanted to avoid the crowds of people on the paved midway. There was a definite lack of cool-down stations and few (if any) mist-tents (the Gulf was not accessible, likely for insurance purposes). The lesser of the two main stages didn't seem to have speaker towers spread out in the crowd; if you were too close to the stage, a mass of bodies blocked the cool breeze coming off the Gulf; too far, where the bodies were sparser, and it simply wasn't loud enough. I generally sacrificed sound for comfort, and grumbled about it the whole time.
However, Hangout is only in its second year, and none of these issues kept me and my crew from having a great time. Sustainable fests, as this one will hopefully prove to be, learn from and remedy any missteps year by year.
The performances themselves were solid, but Hangout wasn't the place to see Widespread Panic dish out the sickest two sets of their career (though they did jam out to the fireworks), nor is it the place where musical history would be made, though Cee Lo Green's surprise sit-in with the Foo Fighters was pretty unforgettable.
See, the musicians had caught the mellow vibe just like all the rest of us, and plenty of them made sure to remind us about how awesome the setting was — not just for us, but for them. Mostly, they all seemed to roll with it and a few sets even ended a tad early. All I could figure is that the musicians wanted to get some quality waterside time in before heading back to the regular grind of the road.
What follows is my list of highlights (and lowlights) from the fest, including the non-musical stuff that stood out most on my adventure…
Best Fest Kick-off: Umphrey's McGee
While they weren't the first band to perform on Friday, they were the first band I saw and they killed their afternoon set, ushering in my fest with their usual prog-jazz-funk-electro technical prowess, and delivering a setlist that included "Turn & Dub" (a dub remix of a track off 2009's Mantis) and a cover of Talking Heads' "Girlfriend Is Better."
Best Way to Ruin Your Day: Sun Worship
There were plenty of over-eager sun worshippers who didn't understand that baking in the rays for several hours paired with consuming mass amounts of alcohol isn't great preparation for going to a show, navigating crowds, watching music, and generally not making a fool out of yourself. I came across numerous crispy-fried zombies, the gone-beyond sect who were barely holding themselves up, but somehow managing to propel their bodies forward in a jerky stumble-trudge, blank and bleary-eyed stares screaming "BLACKED OUT, NO ONE'S HOME!" Not a pretty sight, folks. Not pretty at all.
Best Psychedelic Brunch: Medeski Martin and Wood
People were probably expecting a best-of set, it being noontime Saturday and all, but instead, MMW treated us to a freestyle funk-and-groove odyssey with lots of psyche-jazz out-thereness and things-are-falling-apart breakdowns. I couldn't tell you one song they played, but it was one of my favorite sets of the weekend.
Best Unexpected Moment: The Foo Fighters/Cee Lo Green Mash-up
When Foo Fighters hit the stage at 3:35 p.m. on Saturday to make up for Cee Lo Green's absence, it seemed like a nice save. But half-way through the band's set of covers, during their rendition of Prince's nasty little "Darlin Nikki," Mr. Green appeared and took over lead vocals with Foo backing him up. While Gnarls Barkley and Foo performed the same number during the 2008 VMA's, it was an unexpected treat to see it live, impromptu, and with thousands of sun-drenched people cheering the shit out of it.
Best Fashion Statement: Jim James, My Morning Jacket
Of course the MMJ set was good — great, even. Fans of the band don't need me to spell it out for you; they offered up old material ("One Big Holiday") and new ("Holdin on to Black Metal") with their usual dynamic high-energy delivery. But my favorite part of MMJ's ball-busting set wasn't so much the music as it was Jim James' fashion choice for a show on the beach: dark shirt, slacks and jacket (yes, you read jacket) accessorized by a bright white hippie scarf with red piping and big red flowers (they popped against his dark clothing), and blew around in the breeze as much as his wildly flying hair.
Best Use of Time: Cee Lo Green
Yes, he was 45 minutes late, but the howling hip hop artist made up for it with sincere apologies and a quickfire five-song set of shortened hits, which he hurried his all-woman band through so he could fit in as many as time dictated, "Crazy" and "Fuck You" among them.
Most Valuable Players: The Foo Fighters
In addition to an impromptu afternoon set, the Foos killed the stage later with their catalog of originals; a rad dark and jammed out "Monkey Wrench," as well as "Stacked Actors," "My Hero," "Learn to Fly," and others along with numbers off their seventh and latest album, 2011's Wasting Light, including the scorchin' stand-out "White Limo." Dave Grohl, who'd first impressed me more than 10 years before at a backwoods concert fest (98Rock's Livestock 10, what of it?), cemented his status in my heart as Bonafide Rock Star with his dynamic showmanship. He keeps your eyes glued for no other reason than his badassness and sheer force of personality, not to mention the dude fucking rocks, and plays guitar with as much head-banging passion as any of his younger peers. Thank you for keeping it real and making it fun, Dave, and for delivering one of the best and most heartfelt anecdotes of the evening. Check out video of his describing the turn of events that led him to declare Hangout as "perhaps the most fun fucking festival I've ever been to in my entire life … and I'm fucking old, okay?":
Best Place I Never Went: the Boom Boom Room
Every electronic artist I wanted to see — Pretty Lights, Bassnectar, Girl Talk — played the Boom Boom Room (the lone air conditioned tent), and every time I made my way there, a flood of people spilled out into the midway. And it wasn't a loose crowd, either, it was tight and thick and dancing together in a been-in-the-sun-all-day-sweaty sway, and I wasn't about to fight my way through that. So. No Boom Boom Room for Leilani.
Best Band To Play by the Rules (That Didn't Have To): Ween
Yes, they could have tastelessly opened with "Reggae Junkie Jew" a mere hour after Matisyau's performance on the same stage — and I wouldn't have thought any less of them (though I guess it could've been misconstrued). But even Gene and Dean Ween seemed to be riding the mellow vibes. Though we got the usual nasty goodness — "You Fucked Up," "Spinal Meningitis (Got Me Down)," "Stroker Ace" — they actually played some songs that fit with the setting, like the steel drum-island bounce of "Bananas and Blow" and three tracks off their very loosely ocean-themed album, The Mollusk; the title track, "The Golden Eel," and set-closer, "Ocean Man." They even played a cover of David Bowie's "Let's Dance." Overall, they rocked the brown out of that beach and provided two of the best quotes of the weekend, both courtesy of Gene. First, his one-sided conversation with a lone boater who'd anchored in the Gulf near the fest: "Hey, you! You in the boat out there! Yeah, you — can you hear me?!? Can you hear me?? FUCK YOU!!!"; and his flippant comment as he left the stage: "I'm gonna go smoke a joint with Paul Simon."
Most Flagrant Display of Kleptomania: A Woman Stealing a Light Toy During the Black Keys
She was a leathery-skinned woman at least a few decades older than everyone around her, smoking generic menthols, the only one sitting in the sand during the Black Keys set and surrounded by a group of mostly drug-happy kids who'd sectioned off their area with yellow police tape looped around lightstick poles that probably weren't expensive, but were pretty dang cool. These kids were so blissed-out, they probably would've given the lady one, had she asked. She didn't. Instead, she looked all around (not well enough, both me and my friend Shannon were watching her and looking at each other pointedly), worked one free of the sand (broke the bottom off it, too, Shannon and I took note), and dropped the stupid thing into her giant purse. Ugly. We reported her to the light owners as we beat a hasty retreat (it was overcrowded anyway), not so they could call her out, but just so they'd be aware and not leave anything lying around that was really valuable.
Most Uplifting (and Appropos) Performance: Michael Franti & Spearhead
The dude is radiant with positive energy. Just sitting back in the sand, sipping an icy Cordina Daiq-GO-Ri (soo tasty and perfect in this setting), and hearing Spearhead's upbeat mix of reggae, rock, hip-hop and funk made me feel so happy and satisfied, while Franti's excitement about watching Hangout grow from small to sold-out in only a year was infectious and intoxicating. Franti usually sings about loving your brother, your mother, your friends, your fellow humans. About making a positive difference in your life and in your world. About taking control of your destiny and going after your dreams. Yes, it's hippy dippy stuff, but it's hopeful and honest and it always feels heartfelt coming from Franti. On this Sunday, it came across like Gulfside gospel, but it didn't feel preachy at all. He believes in what he's saying and he forces you to believe in it as well, at least for the time he's on stage convincing you to.
And finally, the award for Most Inconsistent Nostalgia Inducer of the Weekend goes to Mr. Paul Simon.
He came onto the stage quietly in his dapper hat with his well-rehearsed multi-ethnic backing band, and they launched directly into "Crazy Love." He didn't adjust his set to fit the setting or to win over a crowd that likely included some of the youngest people he's played for in years. He did very little talking overall, though he did stop to comment on his nice view of the giant lighted Ferris wheel, which gave the festival a surreal carnival quality at night. He had the chance to really impress, to make some young folks fall in love with him, to re-enforce the love that us not-so-young folks already had for him … and he did. Sometimes. The moments of wonderfully blissful nostalgia, buoyant melodies and dance party Afro-pop wonderfulness were inconsistent and usually sandwiched in between plodding or ill-fitting moments. One minute, I was getting all teary-eyed, the next yawning, checking the time, caught up in the many loud conversations going on all around me, then dancing away again, kicking up my heels, carefree.
"That Was Your Mother," "Slip Slidin' Away," and "50 Ways to Leave Your Lover" got enthusiastic responses, but he lost streams of people when he launched into anything off 2011's So Beautiful or So What or 2006's Surprise (few here knew Paul Simon well enough to know his newer material). Though his island-flecked cover of Jimmy Cliff's "Vietnam" was nice enough, his other cover choices — the Americana-blues of "Mystery Train" (Little Junior's Blue Flames) and "Wheels" (Chet Atkins) — didn't work here, and while it's lovely, "The Only Living Boy in New York" isn't really the sort of song to get the crowd amped. But at least he closed the set strong with "Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes" and "You Can Call Me Al" before leaving for his first encore break. He returned alone and played a slowed-down version of "Sounds of Silence," stunning, but not quite the energy-quencher needed to get us to the end. The band filtered out when he was through and burst out of the quiet into the 1973 bounce of "Kodachrome" … and then they left for a second encore break, came back and dished out "Still Crazy After All These Years" (miss) and then "The Boy in the Bubble," very nice and well-received, but not what folks who remained seemed to want or expect. I heard the mutters; I felt their pain.
Paul Simon and Co. left the stage a few minutes before 11 p.m., and when it seemed like there just might be a third encore, that he just might come back and give us that "Graceland," the final fireworks show of the weekend were launched and it was official: the fest was over. Just like that. Paul Simon was gone and I didn't even remember him saying goodbye…
This article appears in Jun 2-8, 2011.