Hayes Carll at the Jackson Terminal in Knoxville.
Photo by Garret K. Woodward
Despite uncharacteristically freezing temperatures rolling through Eastern Tennessee this past weekend, the Rhythm N’ Blooms Music Festival proved yet again its place as one of the “must see” events of its kind in Southern Appalachia.
A three-day melodic extravaganza, RNB overtakes The Old City section of the rapidly growing Marble City. Several venues of varying size dot the district, all packed with a slew of artists you either are obsessed with or have never heard of. And that’s a big part of the magic of RNB, where you find yourself stumbling into a random venue, only to bear witness to your new favorite band, never hearing of them once before this encounter, and yet now you’re a lifelong fan.
Come Saturday afternoon, I finally found myself at the intersection of Jackson and Central (the epicenter of The Old City). A cold wind and slight drizzle hung heavy overhead. But, no matter, my musical choices lay in the coziness of the nearby Boyd’s Jig & Reel, Pilot Light and Jackson Terminal stages.
Stepping into the Jackson Terminal, beloved Texas troubadour Hayes Carll was headlong into his solo set. There’s something to be said about the beautiful simplicity of just a musician and their guitar, completely vulnerable to the audience — with nothing to hide, but everything to prove, something Carll justifies each time he steps onstage.
Braving the weather, hundreds descended down underneath a highway overpass for Dr. Dog at the Cripple Creek stage. The breath of the psychedelic-rock quintet could be seen atop the band’s microphones. The raucous crowd gyrated themselves in a oblivion of warmth and gratitude, having one of the premier national acts right here in their own backyard, a stone’s throw from much of what is familiar and cherished in the lives of Knoxville folks.
En route to Boyd’s Jig & Reel for singer-songwriter Dori Freeman, I strolled by the Pilot Light and immediately stopped when I heard the razor-sharp sounds of self-proclaimed “cosmic country” guitarist Daniel Donato. I had no idea who Donato was, let alone had him on my “to do” list for RNB. And there I was, mesmerized by his wild and untamed stage aura, pushing my way as close to the stage in the sardine can venue, packed to the gills in what could only be described as a “down home hoedown.”
Situating myself against the wall of Boyd’s Jig & Reel, I tucked myself between rows of onlookers during the Freeman set. Like a mother lovingly lulling her child into a peaceful state-of-mind, the Virginia songbird quieted the normally chaotic barroom noise of Boyd’s — a musical crossroads for national and international performers whose stage is happily tied to the hip of numerous memorable performances hosted there by the legendary WDVX radio station just around the corner.
And as I readied myself to leave Boyd’s and head back to my friend’s abode, I noticed and recognized a face unpacking her guitar. It was the next act, an up-and-coming force to be reckoned with — Lilly Hiatt. Daughter of American songwriting guru John Hiatt, Lilly is raw and real, a bolt of indie/lo-fi lightning, a blend of roots-rock and Americana swagger, where her catchy-yet-elusive tone spills onto the floor, ultimately splashing all over anything or anyone within earshot, without a care in the world.
What sets RNB apart from other — perhaps larger and more mainstream — festivals is how unique it is in a regional scene that includes southern powerhouse music cities like Nashville, Asheville and Chattanooga. Whereas one might find themselves physically and emotionally (and economically) burned out by huge over-the-top events across the country that eerily resemble more of a cattle call than joyous occasion, RNB aims to remain completely accessible and attainable — a place where the adventure lies in the unknown, a soothing sound swirling around in the air that conjures you into the curious depths of The Old City.
Editor’s Note: For more information on the Rhythm N’ Blooms Music Festival, click on www.rhythmnbloomsfest.com.