So I went to the Walnut Valley Bluegrass Festival yesterday.
I got to Winfield around noon, and parked in the day parking. My instructions on how to get to the campsite (Camp Swankville, the swankiest campsite in all of Pecan Grove) were lovingly written by Justin, and thus very bad instructions. I wandered around the nearest part of Pecan Grove (if you haven’t been there, picture acres and acres of cars, tents, campfires, and laid-back people) asking if anyone knew what part of the campgrounds Pecan Grove is in. No real luck. I wandered back to the entrance and asked the guy there where it might be, and he was pointing me towards the areas that had filled up last weekend, which would have been the best help I’d gotten that far. Then I hear, “Hey, KATIE!”
Rob, Zach, and Hickson came up behind us, on their way back from a trip into town. Thank god.
So I walked with them back to Swankville. I’d met Rob and Hickson before, and Zach introduced himself as “Son of the Soil, Ambassador of Porn.” Along the way, Rob explained the finer points of festival culture.
When we reached the now famous Swankville…well, let’s say I did not realize the extent of its swankiness immediately. A circle of tents, a fire ring, and a bunch of friends hanging around. (For those who know him, Cody Swartz’s tent was on the southern border of Swankville, so I talked to him for a bit that afternoon.)
After a bit, Justin, James, Ella, Rob, and I went to see Spontaneous Combustion on Stage 1. Basically, they take old rock tunes, bluegrassify them, and claim them as their own. They lead into each song saying, “And here’s another song we wrote….” Everything from Mozart to Beatles to the Flintstones theme. Fun stuff, yo.
Later at camp, Sam suggests a game of Catch. Simple enough, right? Well, it wouldn’t be swanky if they didn’t add a twist. So he picks up a bowling ball. A fourteen pound bowling ball. As he explained, it was a lot like an egg toss, “but instead the egg getting broken, you get broken!”
Sure enough, several of the guys were willing to give it a shot. In the end, a dozen other campers gathered near to watch, laugh, and mutter “those guys are crazy,” while Justin, Rob, Sam, and Andy played until their arms were sore (which took an amazingly long time).
A kid with neon green curly hair and his friends came up after a bit, and he filmed the last round of Catch while his friend interviewed us. They approved of Swankville’s new national pastime, declared the camp the swankiest they’d seen, and vowed to return.
That night, we saw a couple more shows and then returned for some singing around the campfire. It proved impossible to beat the previous night’s hit song, “God Loves to Rain on James,” but “Piece of Shit” (for which Rob was the original inspiration) was the best of Saturday’s efforts. I’m sure both songs would definitely crack the Top 40 if released as singles. Riiiight.
And as everyone headed off for the first-ever bluegrass opera, I had to leave. Sad, but true. Justin told me that he and his friends performed “Asshole,” followed by their own tunes later that night.
Next year, I’ll get to be there for that. I can’t wait.
Posted: 3:37 pm ·
Category: Music ·
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