Tuesday, August 8-- With the urge to consume aquatic life-forms swelling relentlessly within me, I mosied to Tokyo Rose, planted myself at the bar and began guzzling expensive vodka and chowing down fresh sushi. Sushi, that magical food. Ahh... sushi. Ahh vodka. Sushodka. Vodkushi. It'd been a while since I'd assimilated that much protein in one sitting, having subscribed to "fresh game-etarianism" (--the rule is "if you or someone you actually know kills it, I'll eat it") after finding out that one of Sara Lee's meat processing facilities recently spread a viscous strain of listeria, offing somewhere in the neighborhood of 40 pregnant and elderly before finally alerting the affected region via full-page newspaper ads to the seriousness of the massive recall they had been discreetly advertising. The FDA knew about it for months and issued recommendations, but was otherwise powerless to act, having been handily legislated out of any real policing authority (by a Republican--wannna bet?). America the Beautiful. Anyway, as the two alien substances battled for dominance in my bloodstream Jaco Kazu set up his rig and began a set of solo electric bass works. Talk about your infrequently explored mediums. His set derived primarily from a workbook--the Mel Bay kind--but it sure was entertaining. Let's see... there was "America the Beautiful," "It's a Small World," "Greensleeves," a bunch of classical stuff, a Hendrix medley, and even a stab at that other famous bass-playing Jaco's Weather Report classic "Birdland" (written, of course, by Joe Zawinul). 'Twas fun indeed. I think the sushodka helped some. + Saturday came and I lucked into free admittance to the Oak Grove Music Festival through my old buddy Barndoor Cowlegs. As it turns out, the Cowlegs family has a history with Oak Grove, having been instrumental in its formation over twenty years ago. Little did they know that there, on that lovely hill in Verona, Va., little Barndoor was gestating his insidious anarcho-cellist philosophy, preparing to subvert MODERN CULTURE. (The deranged lad subscribes to the obscure doctrine of anarcho-cellism: anarchy through cello playing--powerful stuff, you can imagine.) So Oak Grove is kind of a family affair for Barndoor. At one point, while he stood contemplating keying the paint of his father's car, I recommended he just challenge the old man to fisticuffs and was corrected by a relative's contention that serious family fracases are best reserved for church.--They're a tough crew. The festival itself was a real Virginia hoot with a stage and raised theater seating built into a hill amidst a stand of old oak trees (hence the name), making for a lovely outdoor performance environ. Kay Buchanan opened the evening with a few of her sing-along folk tunes--really matronly sweet and...well, American. Lots of "working-frontier-women" kinda stuff. She closed with a rendition of "Waltzing Matilda," pausing to decipher some of the tune's Aussie colloquialisms before leading the audience through it, stumbling over the strange lyrics but solid on that classic melody. You try singing about swagmen and billabongs with a straight face. honkin' von ronk Following Buchanan came folk-artistry icon Dave Von Ronk. Legend holds that Von Ronk's New York apartment was a weighstation for the fledgling Bob Dylan back when, in the spirit of Woody Guthrie, Dylan was still playing at hayseed and passing himself off as an anti-intellectual gentile. ("In those days, if you got to sleep on somebody's floor after the show, it was a big deal. We used to call it the 'at your mercy' circuit,"--Von Ronk.) He saw the whole thing from a brotherly perspective, and although Dylan became the archetype for late 20th century cool, Von Ronk remained in relative obscurity, a legend's legend touring the folk circuit with tales of superheroes like his mentor Rev. Gary Davis, Jr. Now in his sixties, he pulled off a distinguished set of fingerstyle blues with his smokey caricature of a voice, seasoning the show with amusing digressions. git along, little doggees Later in the evening Skip Gorman, outfitted in leather chaps and a beat-up 10 gallon hat, took the stage with his Waddie Pals for some cowboy revivalism. Did you know that real cowboys didn't yodel? Apparently real cowboys yipped--something more akin to the "high lonesome" that later became Bill Monroe's trademark. Gorman nicely illustrated the campfire and trailsong lifestyle with a series of night-herding tunes and cowboy camp ditties. Finally, Robin and Linda Williams and their Fine Group, one of the first acts to perform in the oak grove twenty two years ago, laid out their fine country-folk for the happy crowd. Lovely arrangements and lush harmonies ensued. At one point they played their "hot new country" protest song, pointing out that real country music used to be about honest stuff like cheating and beer and momma and prisons, performed by guys named Loretta and Merle and Boxcar and Hank and Buck and Conway and now it's played by people named Mindy and Bryan with a "Y." the future of old-school country "Frankly folks, these are fine names for figure skaters, but..." explained Robin. The show peaked with a chilling dirge-like rendition of Hank Williams, Sr.'s "Cold Cold Heart," and then young Barndoor's request, a Robin and Linda original about the life of Hank Williams, "Rollin' and Ramblin'." No feuding words were uttered. --Cripsy Duck TOP - LAST - NEXT - INDEX