Yes. It’s that time of year when Wrinkly Joe and myself take our lives in our hands and venture into pink-buckskin territory once more. That’s right: the Midlands Music Festival is upon us again and tomorrow we enter the fray.
Now, you might recall our adventures from last year, when we worshipped at the feet of the sublime Emmy-Lou Harris, enjoyed Loudon Wainwright, Tony-Joe White, Guy Clark and Lambchop. We did our bit for Credible Country when we abducted and killed Charlie Landsborough. We also attempted to kill Kenny Rodgers and Van Morrison, but they were too quick for us, though we did manage to inflict an ugly flesh wound on Kenny. I’m not saying Van Morrison represents the dark side of Country music, mind you: we attempted to kill him on the very valid grounds that he’s Van Morrison, a miserable, sour git.
I gave you a list of this year’s acts back in May, but it’s worth mentioning that on Saturday we have, among others, the following.
Tom Russell and
Oh, and I should mention Anjani, Leonard Cohen’s latest squeeze. We think Lenny might make a guest appearance, and for that alone, I’d attend.
On Sunday we have, inter alia,
The Be Good Tanyas
Blind Boys Of Alabama
Hothouse Flowers and
This time around, we have no intention of undergoing the misery that is camping in Irish weather. I know that in theory this is supposed to be summer, but considering we’ve had two solid months of fucking rain, the whole Summer concept is being re-evaluated by a panel of experts. And so this is why I implored the ever-patient Dickler and, decent man that he is, he kindly offered us the loan of his caravan. Woo-hoo!! Dry and warm!! Can you believe it?
So, just for this weekend, Wrinkly Joe and myself become honorary Pavees and as we speak, Joe is out collecting electric cable to set fire to when we set up camp. Now all we need is for kind friends to donate a couple of piebalds. Any offers?