Running To Stand Still – November 20th, 2000

by Bing Futch

To everyone who reads this column, please forgive me for my irresponsible schedule of postings. I’m afraid that I’ve been partying my rear hindquarters away in some sub-tropic mental state where everyone is wearing the same shoes. It’s been nearly a month since my last entry and quite a lot has happened. But I’m still sane and we’re working on that so batting a thousand is completely possible. If you don’t follow me, that’s perfectly alright.

Whoa.

[[fsdulcimer]] The strains of Keoki’s “Space” are pouring out of my Cambridge Soundworks PC speaker system. My black Dayrunner sits on the subwoofer, its pages leaping in tempo with the pounding pulse. Yet the title of this particular column is taken from a U2 song. Quite a relief to know that the lads have gotten back to their roots with the new album. I might actually buy it. My personal U2 boycott began with the album after “Achtung Baby”, whatever it was called – “Zoomorphia”, something like it – Bono and crew had every artistic right to descend into literal cartoons of themselves (remember the video for their “Batman” tune?) but then came “Pop” which was absolutely painful to witness for this “October” fan. Strangely enough, U2 has gone on record saying that they felt their “Rattle and Hum” film and album chronicling the “Joshua Tree” tour was pretentious and that they were fairly embarrassed about it. Go figure. That, I thought, was genius.

[[fsconsole]] Oh, the highs and lows since the last column, recording, designing, gigging, celebrating anniversaries, divorcing, smoking the ganja, addressing each fork in the road and trying to bend them with mind power. The only place to go, to sink into, when there is no logic in the world around me, is into a musical place. That Holy Ground that is anointed by the sounds of instruments and voices, consecrated for the effort of bringing forth song. The Laughing Place. Lots of people in that Laughing Place too. They’re all there, single file and shuffling in, bags and amps slung this way and that. They mutter amongst themselves and discover they have parallel issues. One is destitute, another hates his job, a third escapes from an unhappy home life and still another has no life outside of music at all. They walk into the pubs, clubs and dives, set-up, plug-in and enter Their Laughing Place. Luckily, I’ve had many chances to dance madly and laugh with others over the past few weeks. Talented people with heart and passion and not a big regard for the status quo.

STOP THE VIOLENCE, FACE THE MUSIC

[[stvstage]] November 11th and 12th, long anticipated. After all of the drama that blossomed out of the cancellation of this event, I was quite eager to see if this two-day music fest would actually go off as planned. Mohave was still on the roster and it was while talking with Mac from Hoeck, also on the bill, that I developed some real doubts about the event. The backline providers were all still on alert as of a week before the show, but Mac couldn’t get in contact with anyone from the production offices, nor could I. We were completely prepared to arrive at the Central Florida Fairgrounds to find a bunch of wildflowers and a handful of Port-O-Lets but that was cheerfully not the case. However, the schedule of bands printed up in the November 10th Calendar section of The Orlando Sentinel was wildly different from the finalized production schedule sent to participating acts. This rude notification was the early morning wake-up call for a number of local acts who would be sharing the stage with big nationals like Bif Naked, Doubledrive, Marvelous 3 and others. [[stvhammock]]

Our call time was one hour before the start of our set on the North Stage; 11:35 a.m. After a relaxing breakfast at IHOP, we arrived to find no distinctive signage at the fairgrounds entrance and no sight of stages, lights or anything vaguely musical. A swap meet and a train show were also taking place apparently, the parking lot swarmed with SUV’s and station wagons filled with people jockying for position to load out. After skirting the fray and dodging carpet rolls lolling out of truck beds, we caught a glimpse of the stages on a clearing near the lake. Flagging down a ruddy older man in an “event staff” shirt, we discovered that there was a service road that would allow for backstage parking.

And the convoy moved on.

[[stvsoundscheck]] We quickly got set-up and prepared for soundcheck. The various booths and carts were being readied in anticipation of the hoped-for crush of attendees who would be shucking out better than $20 a pop for the two-day spree, 26 bands on the bill. By the time Oski Foundation hit the South Stage at around 12:40 p.m., only a handful of ticket-holders were present. They sat cross-legged or sprawled on the grass. A few had already partaken of the beer tent and stood or leaned against poles, sipping suds and eyeing the band. When the group finished their short set, Mohave was given the signal to start and I stepped to the microphone, beckoning the crowd. “Come over, come over–we’re gonna keep it going,” I cooed into the mic as the migration settled in front of the stage. [[stvset]]

We played a quick four-song set to make up for the late start, dodging documentary camera crews and enjoying a top-notch stage mix while a smattering of festival-goers politely applauded and one lady whom we dubbed “dancing girl” boogied in the middle of the field like it was Woodstock all over again. There may have been 100 people within hearing distance total, which is great for a local band but small potatoes to the nationals who were already beginning to show up and take shelter in the provided mobile dressing trailers. Ah well–with our part done, it was time to strike the gear and make a beeline for the beer.

But not before shooting a public service announcement that would be featured on the STV website (www.stv.net) and forwarded to MTV in a package featuring 29 or so other bands.

We discovered Melissa Foxx of Real Radio 104.1 FM backstage with the ever-lovin’ Mimi Mouse, her co-hort on the WWNZ “Get A Life!” show. Foxx was slightly peeved that representation at the event was limited to her posse’ of two, but figured that a number of other Real Radio folk were more than likely yukking it up at competing events like Beer Fest at Universal City Walk and WMMO’s Fall Music Fest 2000 among others. [[stvslack1]]

As time slipped towards dusk, the flow of people swelled and then slowed before becoming a trickle as the light faded from the sky and a razor-sharp chill descended upon the fairgrounds. By the time local rockers Slack Season hit the stage in the early evening, the crowd had been reduced to a cluster of die-hards who shivered and danced in the night to warm themselves.

[[stvbeergirls]] Apparently, Sunday’s turnout was no better. I was in bed recuperating from a triple crown of shows played in 26 hours and a steady diet of band beer from the day before, so I wasn’t going anywhere. Apparently the official police head count was somewhere in the neighborhood of 400. Even if the on-stage entertainment didn’t resonate with some folks, the prior night backstage activities turned out to be a real sideshow as late evening brought groupies, drunken trailer gropings and one band that dropped their pants during their taping of a STV public service announcement. [[stvslacklick]]

One of the groupies, a silver-sequinned blonde who had long passed the legal limit, was rumored to have slept with the lead singer of Mest before traipsing off with John Youngman of Slack Season to Barbarella later that night where Mohave was gigging with Bughead. Hah, John thought I wouldn’t. Number 53, Youngman. Busted. First Down.

All in all, the STV benefit seemed to suffer from a case of “jumping the gun.” The organizers struggled to reschedule quickly after the Lake Park snafu in order to maintain windows of opportunity for the national acts to make the bill. Then, their local efforts to promote the show seemed scattershot. Big sponsors like WJRR 101.1 and Real Radio furnished lots of airtime for advertising but print ads weren’t liberally sprinkled in some of the more mainstream newspapers. [[stvpsa]]

Even a banner visible from Colonial Drive would’ve helped walk-in numbers, but it seemed it was all STV could do just to get the show to go on. We had a chance to meet STV President John Karroll as he shuttled around with a camera-person behind him, making sure that each band had shot the video public service announcement. “Every band will get a copy of the PSA and the documentary,” he said. “Don’t forget to grab a t-shirt,” he said after talking with us for a bit. “Tell ‘em John told you it was okay.” It was nice to see the top guy running around backstage and front, toting bags and talking with musicians. His post-event take is a positive one and he believes that much was done, despite the low turn-out, to bring to light the problems of gun violence in the streets and schools of the country. “The documentary from this event will be offered to media broadcast outlets and will assist with the promotion of a national concert series for Stop the Violence,” he said.

For those that attended, there were plenty of unobscured views and great music throughout. For those that performed, it depends on where your bar level is set. Tell you something what–it was a hell of a lot better than your average club gig. Here’s to hoping that more Stop The Violence festivals will roll through Orlando–maybe word’ll catch on. Bad attendance does not a bad event make.

“bfsig”