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On August 3rd, 1996 I arrived onsite at the Blue Skies Music Festival for a couple of days and nights of music, camping, and very sincere post-hippiedom voluntary indoctrination. It’s odd that I would have arrived at a weekend-long festival on the Saturday rather than the Friday, but that’s what my ticket book seems to be telling me. And really, this would have been only my second (or possibly third*) Blue Skies, so I would have been too cocky and/or naive to know how special Blue Skies is and how precious Blue Skies minutes are.
I sure hope I didn’t miss much.
What I didn’t miss were workshops on everything from bluegrass to yoga, from hands-on jazz with Roddy Elias to ethereal woodwinds with Cathy Rollins, and from the benefits of bioenergetic exercise to the healing power of singing. There was a mainstage solo set from Stephen Fearing that came so early in his career that he played at three o’clock in the afternoon, opening for the square dance. Fat Man Waving was there too (remember them?), and so was Alex Houghton, Tamarack, Georgette Fry, and a ton of others.
And oh, the campfire jams!!!! I’m sure the omnipresent never-ending campfire jams at those first few Blue Skies were probably the closest I’ve ever sat to such astoundingly good talent. There is little question in my mind that each and every campfire offered me an unprecedented opportunity to learn and/or play with a calibre of musicians so astronomically ahead of me, and always with such patience. What an incredible learning experience. I can’t imagine what life would be like if I had been going to Blue Skies since I was a kid.
And the crazy thing is: I could have (theoretically). Sure, this was only my second or third weekend out there on Oscar Graf’s land, but Blue Skies has been there a fair shot longer than that. Though I’ve imparted much confusion as to the beginning of my own journey with Blue Skies there’s no question about the festival itself, for written boldly across the front page of the program for this year is this incredible truth: “23rd Annual”. Yes, Blue Skies has been running since 1974, the summer that I turned six-and-a-half years old. At that age I had yet to have ever seen a musical instrument played live in front of me and I thought learning to play one was akin to learning to fly, or to being rich; ie: it was impossible. Blue Skies would have changed my life.
“Would have”?!? What am I saying? Blue Skies did change my life. Just not the first bit.
*Okay, I’ll try to put this confusion to rest right now, not that I’m actually solving the mystery. For the record: Along with 1995, this is the second Blue Skies Music Festival that I mention in my (generally rather comprehensive) ticket binders, and I have programs and Weekend Pass ticket stubs corresponding to both of them. Thing is, my crew and I snuck into my first Blue Skies without paying (sorry) and I can’t see how I would have acquired a stub or a program for that one. Logic leads me to conclude that I must have let my inaugural Blue Skies experience go unrecorded in my ticket binders, and a little sleuthing through my other concert tickets puts me within plausible distance of the festival on the appropriate dates to have possibly attended for the first time in either 1993 or 1994.
But truthfully, at this point I’m willing to admit that the world might never really know for certain.
Todd Man Out 