Over nearly two decades, the Rhythm & Roots Music and Dance festival down at Ninigret Park in Charlestown has steadily built a brand and a growing fan base. In that time, the event itself has expanded exponentially, from a scruffy, honky-tonk affair scored by unfamiliar but talented Louisiana musicians to a more, well, blockbuster experience headlined by the likes of the Mavericks and Keb Mo’ (this year’s headliners).
During that ballooning, Chuck Wentworth and his team of festival producers have tried not to leave their bread and butter audience — the graying, intensely loyal cadre of two-stepping zydeco dancers — behind.
Indeed, a reliable highlight of the festival is the dance tent, where Louisiana music folks come to town, laden with fiddles, spoons and accordions. These bands keep the festival’s original heart beating with a relentless rhythm designed to keep the dancers happy. And happy they are. While the fans of the music on the main stage often remain placid and seated and bathed in darkness most of the time, the dancers still feel, after all these years, the raison d’etre of Rhythm & Roots. The happier the dance tent, the better the festival.
Anyway, it’s fun to watch the Cajuns and the creoles and the bayou boys take the stage, group by group. Each one puts a unique wrinkle into the local vernacular. Some spin the strands of zydeco into rock, some into funk, some into soul, and some even manage to work within the genre’s traditions. Thank you Steve Riley.
It’s About the Music
In general, though, I would rate the overall music experience, including the main stage acts, the small stage and the dance tent performances, as a little below standard. Typically, I have found the music at Ninigret absolutely inspired. Hell, it’s why I go, seeing as I’m no dancer.
On Friday night, the crowd was sparse and the air was chilly. The program starts late on Fridays, around 5pm, so there wasn’t as much to take in. The main stage was headlined by Lake Street Dive, a much ballyhooed band that had a really crisp, slightly off-center groove barroom. It sounded good, but the songs felt a little sterile, in a way that, like, Steely Dan did during their Aja sessions. The big discovery Friday came in the form of LA-based act the Dustbowl Revival, which stormed the main stage with a plentiful potluck of gospel, blues, bluegrass, jazz, Dixieland, R&B and old-time country. Eilen Jewel proved worthy of her big stage slot too, with great pipes and a solid set of gritty songs.
The main stage on Saturday did not disappoint either, with a characteristically energetic set by Marcia Ball, an OK performance by Los Lobos, who I have to say sounded good but felt were going through the motions, and the Mavericks, who were sublime and sounded bigger than life to close Saturday night.
Sunday night the revelation was the Royal Southern Brotherhood, a virtuosic quintet (formerly led by Devon Allman and featuring Cyril Neville) that fused super-tight blues, funk, rock, soul and blues-rock. In fact, it got me thinking, when the musicianship is that outstanding, it almost doesn’t matter what the songs sound like. Fortunately, the songs were skin tight.
Elsewhere, Kitty, Daisy & Lewis are a UK quartet with a weird look, some odd hooks and three women dressed in cat suits. One actually had a pantsuit on. I don’t mind the curve balls; sometimes it’s what we end up talking about after the festival’s over.
My Back Pages
In the years R&R has taken place, I’ve attended a dozen times or more. I’ve watched the scene grow; I’ve taken the kids and done the family thing. I’ve partied with friends and left the kids behind. I’ve befriended some of the loyal food vendors and even spent some money on the henna tattoos and Native American jewelry. I’ve discovered there’s typically something for everyone, and the ticket prices allow the kiddos in free and this year teens were admitted half-price.
Going each year allows me to observe the format tinkering that happens every year — the way the tents move, how the layout reconfigures. There’s constant fine-tuning. This year, there were many changes.
Things that made me go, “Uhhh … huh.”
The sound system kicked ass.
The weather made being there feel like a gift.
Cash made a comeback and bye-bye Bayou bucks.
The chairs for the old folks only covered half the Heritage tent floor and gave standers and chance to get in on the action.
Things that made me go, “Hmmm.”
What was that smell?
The sound bled from tent to tent way more than usual this year and interrupted more than a few performers on the smaller stage.
The ticket prices were high.
The beer/wine lines were interminable. Goose Island Beer Company, owned by Budweiser, supplied the products. Didn’t feel right. How about a local beer vendor?
There were tighter restrictions on campers, including a hefty fee for guests of campers.
The main stage field got really dark after sundown! If you didn’t have a flashlight on your phone, you could easily have ended up in someone’s lap.
The main stage dance tent disappeared, and we lost its light/space.
The dance tent lineups lacked buzz. Did we need to hear Corey Ledet every night?
Yes, we love the talented Sarah Potenza, but she played high profile slots every day.
It seemed fewer acts appeared in more places this year.
All in all, R&R grayed a little in 2016. The jeans didn’t fit quite as well. They sagged in the seat a little; didn’t feel snug enough in the right places. The audience seems to be aging along with the festival, which means it needs an infusion of youth. Newport has done it fabulously. Now it’s Ninigret’s turn.
All I can say is that it was, uh, revealing when over the PA at the dance tent someone announced that “a hearing aid had been found. Please report to the stage area if you’ve lost a hearing aid.” Now that’s something you don’t hear all that often at festivals.