Jul 31

Jul 31 An AVLFest Odyssey: Day 4

SUNDAY

The fourth and final day of AVLFest felt like the last day of camp: you don’t want it to end, but it’d be good to get some laundry done. So, it seemed fitting that the first show I sought out that Sunday was at Burial Forestry Camp, another cool beer campus, this one with a private boarding school curb appeal perched on the edge of Biltmore Village. I had come to see another of my favorite bands, Santiago y Los Gatos, a group that I have seen so many times that I could be considered an honorary Gato. I knew them way back when they went by their former full name, Jeff Santiago y Los Gatos Negros.

They may be a local band, but that is not how they land. Learning that Santiago grew up in New York and then lived in LA made perfect sense because there is a polish and professionalism to his songs and their sound. The question as to why many of the featured musicians have not broken through can be broken down to a tight bundle of reasons, but main among them is songwriting. Santiago knows how to write good songs, songs with feeling, songs that sound full. Even live on stage, Los Gatos songs sound well produced. It certainly doesn’t hurt that the handsome showman Santiago is singing and playing guitar on these songs, a veteran indie rock Richie Valens. And with a sense for showbiz, Santiago knows to surround himself with talent to fulfill that full sound he seeks, from a similar musical palette as Stone Temple Pilots.

My lazy Sunday afternoon quickly became hectic when I realized I had misread or misremembered the schedule, so I was scrambling to reach Burial Camp before Santiago y Los Gatos’ set started. I was late, but luckily so were they, thanks to some early afternoon rain showers (weather: the one acceptable reason for falling behind the festival schedule). They took the stage just as I took my place among their patient supporters, sipping a delicious frozen drink called the “painkiller” (recommended to me so now I do the same for you).

There was Jeff at the front with some other familiar faces from the Gatos gang: Josh Chassner on lead guitar, Lee White on bass, and Springs Wade on drums. But one of these things was not like other shows — it was Stephanie Barcelona from Krave Amiko on vocals and other accompaniment, still in her floppy Alexis sun hat. While I was sad to discover that the delightful Lisa Scivolete, who held that position previously, had moved on to pursue another project, I was happy to see Barcelona sitting in with the band and giving me my mulligan. No, the ubiquitous sax man, Jacob Rodriguez, did not join them, but I did see him walking out as I was walking in, having played the opening slot with one of his other incarnations, Coconut Cake.

As was true many times before, the Santiago y Los Gatos set was outstanding, if a little short for my taste. They shared a few heartfelt songs off their forthcoming album, Gaslight, that let us in on some loss he had recently endured, with the beautiful ballad “Brother,” and the affirming ”Aura,” about Santiago’s late mother. But he also reminded us of his Brooklyn upbringing with ready-to-rumble rocker, “Let’s Go,” and how estos Gatos were built to blast their way through songs as they ripped right through their encore, “Ripple.” To outwit and outlast in the Survivor series of the music scene, bands must overcome name changes and lineup changes and life challenges. But talent is the ultimate immunity, and Santiago and crew clearly possess that and persevere.

All I wished from the remainder of my Sunday was to sweep back over to The Outpost to be there for the series of sets on the side stage that was the WTF (Women to the Front) showcase. I did so because it seemed unthinkable to be inside on such a bright sunny day to see music. I did so because it was a snapshot preview of their own awesome music festival celebrating the women of Asheville, scheduled for mid-September, organized by the remarkable Melissa McKinney (of Mama and The Ruckus and more). And I did so because they were featuring fantastically talented female singer songwriters like Frances Eliza, Laura Boswell, and Lillie Syracuse (whose full set I got to see).

This was not a big tent show, but more of a camping chairs off to the side in the shade kind of show, watching the songbirds on the barely-raised stage quietly hold court in the way acoustic music can do. Syracuse was somewhat soft-spoken, but well worth the lean in to hear her poetic personal lyrics and harp-like guitar playing. So lovely. Other mighty women who make music like Kathryn O’Shea, Laura Blackley, and Hannah Kaminer might have been featured as well if they weren’t already playing earlier or elsewhere.

But I also did so because my friend, the ridiculously talented Rebecca O’Quinn, aka Fancy Marie (often joined onstage by The Gentleman), was hosting and playing the closing set. She is always worth showing up for, even to see her say other artists' names. Never mind that she is also an accomplished choreographer, dancer, and performer (part of the cast of the excellent local live Rocky Horror Picture Show production spearheaded by Courtney Cahill) — she is the consummate ambassador for music. It’s who she is, it’s how she is. It’s what she does.

Her chosen genre is honky tonk with a touch of alt-country. Her voice is unbelievable, the classic country yodel we all wish we could do, like if you paired Patsy Cline’s and Hank Williams’ vocal chords in a petri dish. But it’s not just genetics — you have to fully feel the music to make those sounds come out of your mouth, and she must. Fancy Marie recently got to play her songs and share her voice, along with The Gentlemen, in front of the Asheville Symphony Orchestra — a truly inspired collaboration that rightly confirmed her time is coming.

And that is why I gave what time I had left of my Sunday to hear her host and whom she hosted before heading home to greet my mate when she returned. Yes, I left opportunity on the table, with the always fun and funky The Fritz still to play, the rumored sighting of rare but righteous hip-hop from Spaceman Jones & The Motherships, and of course the official mascot of this music fest, Jacob Rodriguez and his Quartet to close out the festivities. That’s alright. I thought maybe next time. I’m quite happy that there’s going to be a next time.

I was very glad that AVLFest, on the whole, went well. I know a lot of people worked pretty hard to pull that off, including my friend Richard Barrett, whom I met when he was helping book bands (and comedy groups) at The Altamont, the short-lived downtown listening room that saw many great shows before it was fully converted to luxury condos.

I am not a veteran of the festival circuit, but I have attended enough to know that just because there are gobs of good music amassed and a slew of good venues, that by no means guarantees those elements will be easily parlayed into a good festival. Some music fests can go bad quicker than a sliced avocado left out on a counter. The AVLFest organizers had plenty of good ingredients to work with, but they still knew to employ the right recipe: preparation, complimentary flavors, and not leaving anything on the stove for too long.

Sure, there are a few things that could have been done differently: the parking issue, the proximity of venues (everything at Big Ears in Knoxville is wearing-the-right-shoes walkable), and pre-ordering more festival merch. Speaking of, there was one major missed opportunity:I saw a shirt that read “FestAVL,” or so I thought, which would have been a cool alternate name for the Fest. But then on closer inspection, I saw that the shirt actually read FestiAVL which made no sense whatsoever and bothered me so much that my brain almost exploded.

But even more than that, I was happy for all the quality local bands who’ve been at it a long time getting the VIP treatment. Much deserved. Many of these bands have entertained me and many others numerous times, often without significant compensation. It was awesome to see many of them have their moment.

Outside another cool local music venue, Isis Music Hall, that unfortunately recently closed after a decade of doing good shows while serving good dinners and drinks, the marquee reads “THANK FOR A GREAT TEN YEARS ASHEVILLE.” I feel like, for many of the featured bands that have been busting and busking for a decade or more, this festival was a nod of recognition, a note of appreciation that seemed to add a comma and an implied “signed” to that sign, ‘THANKS FOR A GREAT TEN YEARS, (signed) ASHEVILLE.”

(Photo of Santiago y Los Gatos by Justin Bowman)