Gettin’ Skunked

A slight breeze awoke me from my slumber one recent Saturday morning. Swaying in the hammock, I looked upward while the first sunshine of the day sprinkled through the branches all tangled high above. 

Following a wild and raucous night of live music and new friendships at the Albino Skunk Music Festival (Greer, South Carolina), a blissful smile graced my face. I emerged from the hammock into a peaceful silence that only exists within the short timeframe between when the last campfire pickin’-n-grinnin’ session ended and when the unknown adventures of today are soon to begin once some bacon, eggs and strong coffee are rustled up.

A legendary word-of-mouth gathering, Albino Skunk has been chugging along for 23 years. And as a long-time festival-goer, my first time at Albino Skunk this spring felt like coming home. The farm of festival creators Glynn & Susan Zeigler is a place of true communal spirit and vigor. Held twice-a-year (fall/spring), the property encompasses a devil-may-care attitude and welcoming presence I thought was long gone from this age of massive corporate festivals or folks simply not willing to put the blood, sweat and tears into pulling off something of this nature in their own backyards.

“Our goal is to introduce you to your next favorite band you’ve never heard of,” said Glynn (aka: “Zig”) backstage Friday night. “If you’ve ever heard of [past performers like] The Avett Brothers, Lake Street Dive, Steep Canyon Rangers, Infamous Stringdusters, Trampled By Turtles, The War and Treaty, and Molly Tuttle, you can see them here before they blow up.” 

When asked just how the beautiful madness of the festival came about, a wild-eyed look and an ear-to-ear grin rolled across Zig’s face, a visible feeling of childlike wonder and curious adventure that is seemingly reciprocated by any and all who cross paths with him—or anyone—throughout the weekend. 

“It was not planned. It was just something I decided to start doing. It was going to be a private party and I said ‘let’s call it a festival,’ then saw some white skunks on the property—albino skunks,” he chuckled. “It’s not something you can see at most festivals. We had New Riders of the Purple Sage in the fifteenth year, and David Nelson of New Riders and I were walking around here and he said, ‘This reminds me of several festivals back in the day.’ Our plan was to come out here—no politics, no corporate. We don’t care if you’re an Alabama or Clemson fan. Shut if off, shut it down, and come out to the farm and sit under the 200-year-old oak trees—if you don’t get it, you don’t get it.”

Atop the serene, welcoming nature of the farm, the stage itself is a constant beehive of activity. Attendees filled every space around the cozy platform, with many kickin’ up their heels on the dance floor strategically placed to the left of the musicians. Exiting the stage after a raucous performance Friday evening, Melody Walker, lead singer of San Francisco-based roots/bluegrass act Front County, has a special place in her heart for the Albino Skunk gathering. 

“It’s all the vibes—family vibes. They keep it fresh, but they have some of the same people come back and be part of the family. It really does feel like we’re part of the family, probably more so than other festivals simply because of that reason,” Walker said. “They treat musicians well, they pay musicians what they’re worth. But, it’s still this small atmosphere, and not about getting as many heads in the door, which keeps it intimate and friendly.”

Around midnight, with the stage silent until morning, folks meander into the surrounding woods. Dirt trails darting off in every direction. Small campfires in the distance like stars in the night sky—bright directional markers to somewhere, anywhere. Laughter heard and felt in the presence of several string instruments slung around shoulders of friends and strangers soon to become fast friends in the heat of a jam circle. 

“If you’re including both fall and spring, I’ve been to 22 Skunk fests. I started back in 2005, and I was single,” said festival attendee Chris Haddon of Greenville, South Carolina. “Since then, I’m now married with three children and a dog. Our children have literally grown up here, my oldest child having been to as many Skunk fests as I have,” he said. “Festivals like this don’t exist anymore because generally festivals are corporate and restrictive. Skunk fest is just a guy who has some land, likes music, and trusts people. You have trust in people, people trust you back—these are all good people out here.”