Paddlefest. It is supposed to be New Brunswick’s first music festival of the Summer — not in any official capacity; it’s not mentioned anywhere in their brochure, and the calendar year would disagree with that point by more than a full month. But there is an unspoken collective acknowledgement that we will be outside, on the third week of May, enjoying the beautiful seaside town of St. Andrews, live music and the fact that we are no longer knee-deep in snow.
Still, the sight of flurries falling over Minister’s Island while Mama’s Broke played within the stone keep of the island’s bath house managed to perpetuate the question I had been asking myself all that week: how are we going to pull this off?
The answer is to work in layers. Lord Baden-Powell had a lot of sagely wisdom to offer on the matter — not specifically on the subject of music festivals, but much of it still applies. Layers, my friends, that’s the key. Pack as many sweaters as you can and accept that in a single afternoon, it is possible, and even likely, that you’ll transition from sandals to snowsuits.
And, to be fair, every festival on Canada’s east coast should come with a disclaimer that says “weather may vary.” Every cloud is a harbinger of treachery looming on the horizon, every gust of wind an insult threatening to ruin your day, and every raindrop a betrayal.
Inevitably, it almost doesn’t matter. Festival-goers, desperate for their first glimpses of green grass and positive temperatures, will show up in droves. The streets could be lined with the last lingering salt-crusted remnants of snow banks and it wouldn’t deter them.
With such a late spring, this over-abundance of weather comes into play at Paddlefest in two ways.
First, those people adventurous enough to get out on the Passamaquoddy Bay to put the “paddle” into “Paddlefest” might be certifiable. It’s a unique sort of person that enjoys late night festivaling and intense physical exertion first thing in the morning in near-freezing conditions. This is not an experience I’d be easily coerced into, let alone volunteer for.
Secondly, Paddlefest has become a victim of its own success. The mainstay venues of the Bath House on Minister’s Island, The Red Herring, and the Kennedy Inn lack the capacity to accommodate all of Paddlefest’s ticket holders. Two or three years ago those same locations were cozy and intimate, but now they’re packed tighter than a tin of kippered snacks. While the mainstage tent can host a healthy-sized audience, the smaller venues might leave you, literally, out in the cold.
Which brings me back to the Bath House, and our first performance of the season. As I watched those flurries dare to mar my day (completely oblivious to the fact that the thermometer read +4 C) Mama’s Broke plucked away to a room bursting at the seems. Fans hovered on the precipice – or at least anyone who had lacked the foresight to solidly claim a chair – and were left perpetually shuffling for a position like a loose glaring of cats left on the wrong side of the door. The combination of venue capacity, the allure of the duo’s folky harmonies, and weather that was just favourable enough to be encouraging, all made for a major theme for the weekend.
The Herring, which has traditionally been party central for Paddlefest, stacked the crowd in at standing-room-only. In many cases, it meant a choice between “how much do you enjoy this band?” and “how much do you enjoy your ribcage?” When the evening lines up a triple-threat of Carinae, New Brunswick’s favourite Massachusetts wizardcore 5-piece, along with Bleum and Saxsyndrum, only the hardiest, most determined fans can hold their ground on the dance floor. Never mind leaving a little space for the holy ghost, a few extra molecules of oxygen wouldn’t have gone amiss. Making your way through the crowd at any time required employing nothing less than the extremes of the social spectrum – you’re getting close one way or another. The Kennedy Inn suffered a similar fate, but with the added challenge of seeing around corners – with great music to be found around every one of them.
The festival over-delivered on a lineup while challenging festival-goers’ abilities to practice omnipresence. It made for a busy little hive of activity as everyone bounced between the three main evening stages – all, thankfully, within close proximity of one another.
The festival’s main stage tent provided a far more accommodating space for anyone less inclined to break out the elbows. Able to open directly onto the waterfront during the daytime, and airy enough to nearly require an evening toque, it still seemed a luxury to have a lofty roof over our heads with plenty of room. It also provided some of the best surprises of the festival. Gordie Mackeeman and his Rhythm Boys showed themselves as veteran entertainers during an afternoon in the tent. Later on Hannah Georgas indulged us in a Eurythmics cover and Newfoundland’s Ouroboros continued to impress with a mighty display of horns. We caught the bittersweet set of one of The Barrowdown’s final farewell shows. Saskatoon’s The Deep Dark Woods provided for the folky folks, Paper Lions packed the tent, and Force Fields engaged in a show that was deemed very exciting for fans of Force Fields.
But, for us, two bands, in particular, stole the show at Paddlefest.
Skye Wallace came out of left field (or what you might refer to as “Ontario”) with an electric stage presence and songs to match. We were completely blindsided when she joined the lineup, but obviously the organizers knew something we didn’t. Wallace has since gone on to tour Europe and will be returning to the east coast this fall with Matt Mays.
Then there was the surprise we knew about. Spoutnique, who could have been playing at a cabin in the middle of nowhere, and we would have driven/hiked/paddled out to see them. This alt-disco band from Edmunston has been taking New Brunswick by storm this year, but not all at once. The low-key infectious sleeze of disco has a surefire hook buried in an off the wall sound you’d expect in a synth party, with a visible slowburn. It’s become a personal pleasure watching the inevitable shift of an audience who doesn’t quite get it, turn into an enthusiastic full blown dance party. It happens like a clockwork timebomb at every festival, and I have yet to tire of it.
Of course, by Sunday, the inevitable happened, and the weather that had been threatening throughout the week finally manifested. It wasn’t snow, but it maybe wasn’t far off either. The chilled rain had its effect, and an already chilled crowd at the KIRA Amphitheatre proved to be a show too far. Joel & Bill Plaskett fell victim to a long weekend, getting the short end of opportunity cost and drenched socks.
And maybe that says something in itself: when a festival has booked a lineup so solid that you can reflect on the time spent there and declare, “you know what? I’m good,” before sloshing off into the mist, just ahead of a headliner.
Paddlefest has nailed down what it is they do best: it’s a beautiful festival in a beautiful town. But, like goldfish, they’ve slowly crept up on the walls of their tank without realizing that maybe it’s time for something a little bigger – or at least warmer and dryer.
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