Eclectic Sounds, Friendly People Found At Utopia Fest

An old, rusty water tower shines as a beacon to rural America on Highway 29 north-west of San Marcos.


By, Andrew Blanton | Exclusive To Corridor News

 

I must have passed ten small town barbecue joints and more family ranches than I can count. The cool air blows through my open windows as the speed limits constantly change though single-stoplight towns.

Bubbles float through the air at the stage grounds of the Utopia Festival, a colorfully dressed girl filling the air with a plastic bottle of soap and a wand. There’s a man admiring the shiny-reflective balls while they burst into the campers. His jester style Cat-in-the-Hat headwear nods along as the music begins.

“This is a song about coming home to Texas,” Kelsey Wilson, lead singer of Wild Child, said, and a ukelele plucks a gentle lullaby. “I wanna come home,” the band sings together. It’s tough being on the road for musicians in today’s climate. Certainly would be nice to see a brightly-lit Buckee’s in the distance.

Stress from today’s travel may have me feeling homesick but certainly not at this moment. Wild Child screams sounds of children playing brass on Dumaine St. in New Orleans. It’s dreamy.

There’s a man wearing silver-chrome antennas that swing along on springs inches above his head as he dances. Halloween lasts well past October 31st at Reveille Peak Ranch; I should have brought a costume.

Keller Williams pleases the crowd with Petty Grass, his bluegrass band that plays hippie versions of Tom Petty. Everyone knows the lyrics, but nobody expected the versions. Williams dances around the stage in typical barefoot form. He often crisscrosses the nation playing smoke-filled solo performances at nightclubs and festivals.

Keller Williams performs with Petty Grass. Photo by Andrew Blanton

Lukas Nelson draws the largest crowd so far on the first evening. He tells the audience about growing up in Spicewood less than an hour away. His father, Willie, owns a golf course in the sleepy Hill Country town.

Most songs were from Nelson’s latest self-titled album with backing band Promise of the Real. Nelson swears the entire band isn’t currently in a psychedelic mushroom-induced trip as the audience laughs but promises some of them surely are. Nelson would need a roadside billboard to hide his intoxicated grin.

Lukas Nelson performs with Promise of the Real. Photo by Andrew Blanton

The Big ‘Ol Nasty Getdown closes out the evening with an intense showcase of some of the nation’s finest musicians. Founder and bassist John Heintz came up with the concept after jamming with multiple musicians at music festivals. The band now has a roster of almost two hundred musicians around the world, and each performance is unique.

“It’s become a thing where I’m now getting people reaching out and wanting to be a part of it that I never in a million years would have expected that I’d even have contact with in the first place,” Heintz said. “It’s been a really interesting evolution just watching it grow.”

A pineapple bobs on a stick during the Big ‘Ol Nasty Getdown. Photo by Andrew Blanton

Grammy Award Winner Cyril Neville keeps the band jamming with his expert percussion and vocals, giving it that Louisiana feel that keeps the crowd dancing into the night.

I get lost in the night on my way back to the sprawling campsite. The ranch surrounds a deep pond set in an abandoned quarry with hundreds of tents and RVs along the pathways through wooded hillsides. A giant tower gleams with neon lights high above the pond, the calm water perfectly reflecting its view. There’s plenty of starlight to lead me through the rocky paths, and eventually to my tent beside a giant teepee.

The Utopia Tower shines in a pond. Photo by Andrew Blanton

I shiver myself to sleep in our tent. The ordeal to erect it nearly ended my years-long friendship with my camping partner. It reminds me of my frustrated father directing three fighting boys through the chaotic process of determining which pole goes where. It’s time for me to eat crow it seems. I may be wearing everything I packed, and I’m still in agony. The sun couldn’t rise any sooner.

There’s a food court of trailers on the main grounds to keep the campers happy. I grab a headlamp at the general store to avoid getting lost again and warm coffee to ease the pain from the freezing sleep.

Artwork near the food court at Utopia Festival. Photo by Andrew Blanton

Trouble in the Streets is on to start the final day. Lead singer and keyboardist Nnedi Nebula Agbaroji promises to bring their best, and they truly deliver. The weather is beyond perfect. Morning Tatooine-style sandstorms have faded into calmness and the sunbeams in a crystal-clear sky.

Agbaroji’s sunglasses are a long-black rectangle straight from a science fiction movie in the 1950s. She switches between singing and rapping like a young Zach De La Rocha, and every bit as energetic as she jumps around the stage.

“It’s high energy,” bass and synth player Andy Leonard said. “We like to break people out of their normal life experience and give them a new perspective.”

Adoring fans wave hand-painted flags through the air as they erupt in applause. The band’s message is more than just a call to action; it’s a potential revolution.

There’s a little George Clinton Starchild in Agbaroji’s effects-driven microphone. Leonard’s gold shirt shines like a gleaming disco ball from behind his Apple laptop as the sounds morph into Skrillex. I don’t know much about electronica, but I’m certain Leonard would cringe at the comparison. Some funky 90’s arcade style evil voices scream from his altered microphone.

“You can have a good time if you wanna,” Agbaroji chants. The crowd seems to agree. It’s beyond intense and impossible to look away.

I walk around the campgrounds after a barbecue brisket sandwich and join up with some friends at the Music Bus a gutted out school bus with a constant cast of rotating musicians jamming. There’s plenty of unplugged stages throughout the ranch waiting to offer after-hours performances.

Musicians jam at the Music Bus. Photo by Andrew Blanton

A man in a turquoise mermaid costume sets the scene for the evening dance party. He has a multi-colored-neon headdress that holds back his dreadlocks and drapes down over his well-glittered body.

Valerie June is the happiest performer I’ve ever seen, and her Tennessee draw sucks you in like a plastic-drive-thru bank tube flying a hundred miles an hour at the building.

A thousand fans’ feet stomp furiously while June sings a speedy get-down after telling a few stories.

“I rolled, and I tumbled, cried the whole night long,” June borrows from Muddy Waters. “I woke up this morning, and all I had was gone.”

Valerie June performs at Utopia Festival. Photo by Andrew Blanton.

A girl in the audience shakes a clear-plastic umbrella decorated with long strips of ribbon and Christmas lights. It pops up and down over the crowd like a bobber in a pond being nibbled.

“I just want to send some energy to the people at the yoga studio right now who ran upon hard times and to the people in Pittsburg,” June said to the audience, the nation’s latest shooting incidents fresh on everyone’s mind. “I want to send some energy to them because you don’t expect to go somewhere and not be able to enjoy yourself. We want to live in joy.”

June tells stories of escaping a boyfriends trailer, desperately trying to jam the furniture through the tiny front door before he returned home.

“He came home in the middle of me throwing the stuff out,” June said. “I just had to do what I had to do. It was the love I made. Be grateful for every love you’ve had, even the bad ones.”

June’s songs are beautifully sweet and honest — a genuine feel that warms the hearts of the audience.

“We just need to remember to put soul in everything we do,” June said, “If we do that, we’ll pick up a paintbrush before we pick up a gun.”

There’s a pineapple on top of a broomstick wading through the audience. It’s wrapped with flashing yellow lights. A perfect prop for Calliope Musicals, a party style band that is set to perform next.

Each song is an ode to the current music festival scene. Giant blue-and-red monsters take the stage beside the band, a sea of confetti rains down upon them as they take the position of mascot backup dancers.

Lead singer Carrie Fussell energizes the crowd as hundreds of balloons float into the air. Rainbow hula hoops twirl around dancers as another monsoon of confetti attacks the fans. I fear for the cleanup crew.

Sound Tribe Sector Nine closes down the festival with instrumental electronica and a spectacular light show. They are the victim of a late-night rainstorm that cleanses the campgrounds, like a baptism for the tenth anniversary of Utopia.

As we drive back into Austin, I can’t remember a nicer time of eclectic sounds and friendly people. Travis Sutherland sure has a good thing going that should be around for many years to come.


 

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