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Fest Diary: Oct 29th-Nov 3rd, by Dan Bivins

Red Clay left with our friends, The Wading Girl,  on Wednesday October 29th. We were headed out for a quick jaunt to end in Gainesville, Florida with stops on the way in Chapel Hill, North Carolina and Birmingham, Alabama.

This is the seventh year of the Fest in Gainesville, which brings together over 250 bands and a few thousand spectators held over 3 days. Most bands are punk rock, indie, hardcore, metal or some variation thereof. This makes sense being that the originator of the event, No Idea Records, is an established underground record label in Gainesville. They do, however, have two "Americana"-esque showcases over the weekend that are mostly "alt-country" or "folk-punk". And since most of us grew up in and still run in the "punk rock/indie" crowds, we felt right at home...

Rambling on towards Gainesville from our Birmingham show, we took turns at the wheel. We decided the previous night to leave after the show and ball the jack all night.  I ended up with the last shift and crossed the Florida line as the sun was rising above the horizon. Something about a long drive and seeing the sun rise over the horizon and warm my weary face always gets me going.

Another cup of coffee and a few hours later we pulled into a surprisingly cheap Super 8 in Gainesville, not far from the Fest headquarters. The six of us collapsed on available beds and floor space for a quick nap before the band check-in.

And after a reviving breakfast at Waffle House, it was off to the Holiday Inn that was rented out for the weekend for the Fest organizers and attendees. We parked the van and wandered to the front door while 30 or so punk kids were hanging around outside looking listless in the morning sun. After coming out of the registration, the first thing I saw was a kid passed out in the mulch with a forty tucked comfortingly under his arm. I thought, "Man, this is going to be ridiculous."

The Fest is held in about 10 different venues, varying in size, but mostly within walking distance of each other.  Most bands have around 30 minutes and there's a 20 minute breakdown time between each, so everything moves very quickly. Most people shift venues sometimes hourly and catch a bite to eat at one of the many ethnic restaurants, pizza joints, or pubs in between sets.

We had several hours before our show, so we all set out to see some other bands.  As our time to play neared arrival, I began to get nervous as usual. After 10 years of playing in bands, I still get nervous every single time I play. We were set to play in an Irish pub called Durty Nelly's that is right on the main strip of things. I checked out a few of the bands before us and knew we'd have to work hard to keep people's attention in the noisy bar. But when we got going I knew it felt right.

After a song or two, we hit the pocket and connected with the crowd. They sang along proudly with our cover of "Paradise," by John Prine. We were bought shots of whiskey and sang the better with it. A couple of songs later we finished strong with our Socialist/Anarchistic anthem, "Hammer the Chains". I had a feeling that  it would go over particularly well with our  counter-culture comrades. And too soon, it was over and we were hauling our gear off stage in a rush of sweat, smiles and barroom smoke.

To have our set over with for the weekend meant we had the next two days to watch as many other bands as we could. The next morning we went to a house show that the Wading Girl was playing with several other acts. But a few of us only had time for a few beers and then it was back to Fest headquarters for the punk rock flea market.

Labels, bands, artists, record dealers, etc.  were set up with all their goodies to sell or give away. Marcus (Hodges -- ed.) and I were helping to run Billy's (Wallace -- ed.) new label's (Uneasy Records -- ed.) table while he was playing at that house show. We met wonderful people from all over the world. One was a fellow from L.A. who already had one of Red Clay's CD's and was getting on us about touring the West Coast soon.

The rest of the weekend I lost all track of time except for the importance of time in relation to what band was playing where, at what moment. So I ran around hoping to catch as many of the 20 or so bands I wanted to see that weekend. Two of my favorites, Cloak/Dagger and The Riot Before, both from Richmond, just blew my mind. I had seen them before but everything this weekend was on another level.

As the night progressed, the music still blared and bottles broke and people fell asleep standing up. Most of our group headed back to the hotel "early" Satruday night to fill the trash can with ice and beer, put our feet up and wait till morning.

The next day was The Wading Girl's showcase. They had played the previous year at the Fest and had garnered a very good spot in the weekend. As anxious as they were beforehand, once they had a few beers in them and started playing, they settled in and did it right. It was a great night of exposure for them. We celebrated with free beer and watched the remainder of their showcase.

Around 10pm, we packed all our gear up and headed out on the road (I had consciously sobered up hours earlier), headed to the Georgia line. Our goal was to get a couple of hours driving done so that the next day wouldn't be such a long haul.

After a little sleep in another cheap motel we were on our way home. Crossing through Georgia, South Carolina, North Carolina and into Virginia, I don't think any of us were ready to end the trip but so it goes. Tired and achy from sleeping on floors, I pulled the van into town just as the sun was falling once again.