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July 13th, 2018 was yet another instalment in Ottawa’s annual summer treat, Bluesfest. 2018 had been shaping up to be a surprise hit as far as I was concerned; I had found little I was interested in and went to the festival grounds only and exactly to catch those things, and while I didn’t put in as many hours onsite as I had in past years I felt like I had seen a series of high-quality arena rock shows rather than the usual smattering of partial festival sets.
And Bluesfest’s final Friday night offering was no exception, with Beck headlining the main stage.
Beck is one of those guys that I respect whilst knowing little of his oeuvre. I had seen him before and remember Beck delivering a good, honest rock concert and I guess I remembered right because he did it again. I only recognized two originals over the course of the evening (the obvious ones: Loser and Where It’s At) plus of course their cover of Prince’s Raspberry Beret, but regardless of not knowing the material the whole show was fun.
And visually stunning. The backscreen and sizeable riser were outfitted with seamless high-definition LED screens that supplied wonderful eye-candy throughout the whole show. At times the entire band – horn section, backup singers and all – were in the most perfect black-out silhouette; it looked great.
Of special mention was the band’s solo sections. When each of the fine, fine players was given their turn to shine, rather than playing the standard flashy extended solo each musician led the band in a snippet of the cover song of their choice, and all of it in a grand, extended medley. The guitar player picked Miss You by The Stones, the drummer went with In The Air Tonight, there was Once In A Lifetime, Cars by Gary Numan and a few others. What a fun way to show off the band.
But the surprise of the evening – nay, the surprise of the festival – was opening act Sturgill Simpson. Clearly the great hope of new old country, or the birth-mother of neo-Southern rock, Sturgill was the perfect fit for my annual find-of-the-festival. He was balls-to-the-walls rock and roll with a Southern twang and a cowboy hat, and he played a searing guitar, something I hear he had only been at for a short while. Well, he seems to be picking it up rather quickly.
I decided to sit out the next (and penultimate) night of the festival; Colin James was just not enough to get a concert-weary guy like me out of my own backyard. In effect this was the end of Bluesfest 2018 for me, with only my own set pulling me out to LeBreton Flats on the final day of Bluesfest.
But heck, I wrote a ticket story about that day too.
Todd Man Out 