An AVLFest Odyssey: Day 1

Over the first extended weekend of August 2023, Worthwhile Sounds, in association with Wicked Weed Brewing, brought together over 100 musical acts at over 20 Asheville venues to present the first incarnation of AVLFest. 

“Brought together,” however, might be a bit of a misnomer. While many festivals will pull in acts from all over, what the AVLFest did was shine a spotlight on the ridiculously rich bounty of music and entertainment that can be found here in Asheville on almost any given weekend. That was the plan of organizer Jeff Whitworth for the first year (as he shared in a WLOS interview), “...a heavy emphasis on local talent, because we do have so much of it and we want to showcase that, introduce the world to that, if they haven’t already discovered it.” 

And that was my plan as well in how I approached the surplus of possible shows to see in that formidable four-day lineup. I intentionally chose to stand before bands and artists and friends that I had seen before, in some cases multiple times, so I could write about them for others, from here or elsewhere. who may have not been as fortunate — to sing the praises of how well these performers sing and play their songs. 

I also largely chose Asheville-based acts as an opportunity to brag on my city, not just its amazing music scene but how that scene extends to other areas; how the accompanist for the local comedy troupe is not just their cousin who happens to play piano but actually an incredible keyboardist in several cool bands; how the music education teacher in your kid’s class can also be found on the Billboard Americana/Folk chart; and how the man who tactfully manages one — make it two — of the major music venues downtown is as talented, if not more, than many of the touring bands who take the stage there (as is evident whenever he gets to do so himself).

Now, in order to fully embrace AVLFest, I had to get past two possible stumbling blocks. No, it’s not Bele Chere. For those who remember, Bele Chere was the free downtown music festival that happened in Asheville on the last weekend in July for 35 years, running from 1979 until it was given its reprieve in 2013. I’m not gonna lie: I had some good times at Bele Chere in the late aughts and early 2010s. Seeing Southern Culture On the Skids toss fried chicken into the crowd from the Biltmore stage was one of a bucketful of fun moments I found at the city-sponsored street festival. 

But that was the snag: it happened on the streets, not in the venues; in front of The Orange Peel, not in The Orange Peel. Vendors took over downtown, effectively closing many of the businesses for the weekend, instead of bringing them a boost in business. And since it was funded by the city’s Parks & Recreation Department, it became clear that municipal monies might be more wisely spent on better things than the extensive cleanup after the festival whose name meant “beautiful living” but whose impact was leaving downtown looking like a trashed parking lot after an epic tailgate party. 

And then there’s the question as to why you would pay $100 for a weekend pass to see some bands and artists that you very likely could see for free the next weekend at places like Sierra Nevada Brewing Co.’s amphitheater or the French Broad Outfitters outdoor stage at Hominy Creek. Not that I paid, but I’d say it’s because it’s all the bands, back to back, over four days at many of the venues that do cost money. It’s Asheville and most of these bands and artists are really good and deserve whatever they can get until they finally break through — if they ever break through. And so do the Asheville venues that somehow survived the COVID-19 pandemic-induced shutdown or emerged from those ashes. Venues that, yes, do well when the right band is on the bill, but that also have plenty of nights when there’s not many people there, or nights when the people that are there are not what you would call considerate houseguests.    

THURSDAY

For my first show of the first night of the first AVLFest, I passed up some good music possibilities and went to see the Poetry Showcase, hosted by Caleb Beisert with musical support from pianist Aaron Price. I went because, along with lots of excellent music, Asheville has an active poetry scene, a dynamic improv and stand-up comedy scene, a slew of super fun drag shows, and a bunch of other cool stuff that should be celebrated along with all the quality craft beer that the city’s bevy of brewers produce.

Right down the hill from where the Asheville Tourists play, just across from Smile Starters and Frannie’s Pharmacy is Sovereign Kava, which they claim is North Carolina’s first and best kava bar. They have kava cocktails and kombucha and CBD edibles, but they also have a poetry open mic that is much better than you might imagine — at least based on its AVLFest showcase. That’s because the host is not just somebody who stepped out from behind the kava bar to call off names from a list. Beisert is a legit poet,a personable performer, and he clearly cared about what he was showcasing. He set things in motion well with his opening offering about a man who walks into a bar and proceeds to cover himself head-to-toe in honey. When I eventually left, I imagined myself walking in his words, “wandering off into the night / glistening, anointed, / leaving honey footprints behind.”

And just to the side of the stage that sits beneath a towering earth wall, underscoring the poems in progress was Price, one of those comedy accompanists I mentioned. He’s an integral part of the popular improv troupe, Reasonably Priced Babies, and also plays in the Wham Bam Bowie Band!, the idiosyncratic cabaret act, Vendetta Creme, plus a host of solo projects. He knew just what sonic element to add to elevate the pieces that might otherwise have felt sparse.

The lineup of showcased performers was endearing and diverse in who they were and what they chose to read, including published animal poems from Mildred Barya; Justin Evans evoking Timothy Leary with a reverential reading of his surreal court docket; and the artist formerly known as Trash Chameleon skillfully shifting colors from likable to lacerating, proving that some poems were meant to be shouted. I was glad I started there because I’m glad that it is here. It may not be for everyone but with all that Asheville has to offer, it doesn’t have to be. 

Mildred Barya (Photo by Fiasco Media)

Then I did a quick walk up the street to The Orange Peel, Asheville’s awesome big small venue. The entrance to the brick landmark building is lined with template posters of many of the outstanding shows that have come through there, some that I was lucky enough to have been at, including Smashing Pumpkins, Jack White, and Beastie Boys. I was just in time to see a longtime favorite and one of AVLFest’s few local hip-hop acts, Free Radio. I remember seeing them open up for Ice Cube here back in 2011 when they were still known as the Ville Boyz. That was a great show from start to finish. I didn’t love the name change to Free Radio but they are a whole different group now with original members, Austin Haynes and Johnny Reynolds, maintaining enough forward progress through the years to eventually welcome the soulful and sought-after Datrian Johnson and Grammy-nominated vocalist Debrissa McKinney of Empire Strikes Brass). Debrissa is awesome. If you don’t have a Debrissa where you are, I feel sad for your city. 

That's a ton of talent on that stage. I remember meeting Johnny back in the early days doing a community project. He remembered me when he was working the door at a downtown club, waved me over, and handed me a copy of their first album, The Powers That Be, which is still in steady rotation in my car more than 10 years later with the lyric from ‘Something In the Water” — “Life’s worth living even as a dying man. Don't be stuck in the past, Peter Pan” — embedded in my brain. 

Their set at AVLFest did not disappoint, even if they only played one song off that staple CD. But they did play plenty of quality cuts like “Well Wishes (Wishing Well)” and “Astral Plane” that showed off their versatile vocal styles, delivering lyrics that speak to a life worth living or one in need of righteous repair. And this is hip-hop, so it all happens on top of tracks that make singers and audience alike sway and mark the beat with a bouncing hand above their head. I don’t know why this group hasn’t reached the hip-hop heights, but it’s not because it isn’t deserved. 

I decided to forgo one of the big outside bands the fest had brought in — Watchhouse at The Outpost — and instead headed to The Grey Eagle, another great Asheville venue, this one in the RAD. It’s a genuine music hall with a low wood-beam ceiling and corresponding low stage that kneels in front of hung curtains that hold whatever color projected upon them, anchored by a hoisted round sign at the center that bears the Grey Eagle emblem. With a tasty taqueria in front, a sweet outdoor patio off to the side, and stunning somewhat abstract musician murals by local artist Nathaniel Roney along the interior wall, The Grey Eagle is just a cool place to come to, whatever is playing. But thanks to Whitworth, who books the music here the rest of the year, whatever is playing is very often well with hearing.

I was there to see The Squealers, an Asheville-based blues-punk rockabilly band. I didn’t know this band, at least not yet, but I really like rockabilly and I really like that there is a bit of a rockabilly scene in Asheville, with shows here and at Fleetwood’s (just up the way in West Asheville), and other area outlets. The Squealers were well cast as the rockabilly representative, with Johnny Caucasian and his mighty mutton chops on upright bass, Matt Daniels with his stylish western shirt and pared-down pompadour tearing through surf riffs on his trusty telecaster, totally adorable Taylor Olin driving the steady center of the songs on drums in her righteous head-to-toe red sports outfit, and Jesse Harman as the essential enigmatic lead singer. 

Harman pivoted between entertaining and annoying as he spent most of the set trying to patch back together his bullhorn with handheld speaker setup that he apparently likes to strap to the harmonica mic he uses for vocals for double enhanced distortion. When the duct tape finally held, it was a cool effect, though not so much that it justified his divided attention for much of the show. But I got the feeling from his restless energy, his bandmates' reactions, and a description of the group from a previous show that promoted his “unpredictable antics” that he probably finds some source of distraction whenever they take the stage. Whatever the recipe, the result was really likable rock'n'roll. The Squealers romped their way through the rowdy and rhythmic set, solid musicians serving their genre well behind a frenetic frontman who was having fun, whether for us or in front of us, on stage or off, whirling in circles among us.

I was also there to see the next band, Harriers of Discord, whom I’d seen before, but was excited to see again as ambassadors of the punk rock scene in Asheville, which does exist and thrives in places like the downtown venues Static Age Records and The 27 Club. When I saw HoD previously, I remember being struck by how solid they were, tight and on target, me making the mistake of thinking that punk bands, because of their break-the-rules brand, don’t really practice but rather just plug in and pound their instruments. 

Not the case with Harriers of Discord. Originally from Los Angeles, this band in various forms, founded and fronted by Aimee Jacob Oliver, has been doing this for close to a decade. For the festival, they took the stage as a trio, with Duane Discord on bass and Marcus Trujillo on drums behind Olivers’ guitar and vocals. They are a punk band so, as you might expect, they played songs with titles like “The Sale of Indulgence'' and “Under the Father’s Gun,” but they were not just screaming protest lyrics over distorted power chords. Their songs certainly featured fuzzy guitar, muffled Morse-code bass, and a steady diet of snare-and-hi-hat drums, but tightly wrapped in pop-punk parcels like you might hear on a Buzzcocks or Undertones album. 

And Oliver’s vocals when singing lyrics from songs like “Velvet Tongue”  — A real rat race. With little tiny bits of poverty impregnating the place — may not have been velvety smooth but were more sweetly sung than I would’ve suspected, yet still strident, like a pissed off Dusty Springfield. Their set was not sloppy, but tailored to deliver a sound that was both intense and intentional. Because they took themselves and their set seriously, I had a whole bunch of fun banging my head and pumping my fist to their polished punk-pop outpouring.

I wanted to stay to see the next band, Daikaiju, a surf punk band originally from Alabama that performs wearing kabuki masks and offers even more theatrics, but I knew they would receive ample coverage. I had been in the same spot for too long for a music festival, and I had other favorite Asheville bands to focus on. Off to the Asheville Music Hall!

I have a soft spot for the Music Hall, the former Stella Blue, which is not quite the traditional music hall that The Grey Eagle is. It’s more of a converted storefront with the stage just to the left of the entrance as you enter the long rectangular room that stretches all the way back to the bathrooms. And below is The One Stop, their second stage, that has the opposite setup with the stage all the way back from the alternate street entrance, passing through a kitchen and cafe on the way. 

Asheville Music Hall may not be a lauded listening room but it is a downtown club that does the work to keep the various pockets of Asheville’s music scene in the mix. It’s not uncommon to come there on a Friday night to find a packed electronica show complete with sweeping projections across the DJ’s dais on the main floor, and then wander downstairs to find a jam band from Virginia Beach seriously shredding for a smaller crowd of their tribe and friends who made the trip down. The Music Hall has plenty of headliners and high-profile shows, but they also serve their community by carrying quality weekly shows like the Tuesday Night Funk Jam and Shakedown Sunday, along with an interesting rotation of bands (from gypsy rock to R&B to jamgrass) and DJs (house, hip-hop, and dubstep) that you just don't find at many other places.

I stopped in to see Supatight, another Asheville-based band that has been around for about a decade. We are spoiled in Asheville to have a Noah’s Ark of musical acts —at least two excellent examples of almost every kind of band. For groovy, somewhat psychedelic alternative funk rock, we have Supatight and The Snozzberries. 

On this night, Supatight was supafun, with some of the members donning matching Royal Tenenbaums-style Adidas tracksuits. They were undeniably impressive on their instruments, but they were more focused on creating a fun party-band energy than crafting perfect notes. They delighted the crowd with groovy originals and funky dance versions of choice covers like Dead or Alive’s “Spin Me Right Round.” And they did. Plus, they had another comedy keyboard accompanist. Zack Knox, who played for “What's In the Box?” monthly improv series. Sure, no kabuki masks, but this show was a genuine good time — a feeling I’m quite familiar with at The Music Hall.

To close out the first night, I headed back to The Orange Peel for Asheville musical royalty Empire Strikes Brass, a funk brass rock band that lifts up an audience and lands them in that energy and enjoyment that New Orleans is known for. On Asheville’s musical ark, for hard-not-to-like horns-infused rhythm rock, there is ESB and Yo Mama's Big Fat Booty Band, and any good New Year’s Eve party or summer stage celebration is going to feature one of those two bands. 

ESB boasts many of the best musicians in Asheville: the aforementioned McKinney featured on vocals and saxophone; the captain of the keyboards, Lenny Pettinelli; Nik Hope artfully hammering the drums; additional keyboards and percussion served by Sean Donnelly; JP Furnas burning up the bass; Chris Porter delivering guitar riffs; and a heavenly chorus of horns from Tim Morgan on trumpet, Jacob Bruner on trombone, and Pauly Juhl on saxophone. 

They were without their other trumpet player, Alex Bradley, which was too bad because he is fantastic — a friend and a former student of mine. That’s another cool thing about Asheville: the brash kid you taught at theater camp more than 10 years ago is now touring the world with The Marcus King Band. Despite Alex’s absence, their set did not suffer as they got the good times rolling with originals like “Pile Em Up,” “Pounding the Pavement,” and my favorite, “Mr. Fatty McNasty.”  And then they found that filthy fifth gear by closing with rousing covers of Metallica’s “For Whom The Bell Tolls” and Chicago’s “25 to 6 to 4.” Not too shabby for a Thursday night. Not entirely uncommon for a Thursday night in Asheville.

(Empire Strikes Brass photo by Fiasco Media)