Check out all the action from Day 3 HERE
Is it possible to ruin a great weekend in five minutes? Probably not, but it was a fair question after the muddled main stage conclusion to a Womad festival that had largely been a triumph in the face of considerable opposition from the forces of nature.
All the usual heat adjectives have been rapidly exhausted describing what it was like to live in Adelaide over the weekend, and the addition of Botanic Park’s drought-affected surface made for a Sunday dust bowl that saw thousands of patrons take breathing refuge in masks and handkerchiefs. But that was nothing next to the fumbled non-encore that added just a hint of bitterness to the dust already in everybody’s mouth.
More on the off-key finale later. First though to the final day’s music, which was equal parts local and exotic, familiar and mysterious. In mid-afternoon a strategically placed listener could hear Bob Evans rendering a fine cover of Lucinda Williams’ Car Wheels On A Gravel Road, while at the same time bobbing along to the Mariachi stylings of Victor Valdes and occasionally being forced into spontaneous dance revelry by Watussi. The heat of course was decent cause to seek shade somewhere, and one of the day’s delights was to recline beneath the canopy around the Zoo stage to hear Cambodian maestro Kong Nay. Using his Cambodian variant of the lute to good effect, Nay showed why he has been endearingly dubbed the “ Cambodian Ray Charles ” while preserving a brand of music and song that was all but wiped out by the brutalities of the Khmer Rouge.
Less delicate but equally skillful was the much-anticipated appearance of Billy Cobham’s jazz-fusion septet on stage two. Cobham was a dominant presence in 2007 as an ideal director of the traditional all-star jam, and here his drumming provided the perfect platform for a crack team of musicians to deal in grooves that were both intricate and danceable, if a little under-rehearsed. A particular highlight was Obliquely Speaking, which allowed saxophonist Ernie Watts to play up pleasingly to the crowd. Australian guitarist Frank Gambale also made his presence felt.
Across on stage three Sarah Blasko wound up her second performance of the weekend with a fresh round of hypnotic, literate pop, which still managed to exude a beautifully cool and detached air despite heat that kept her face decidedly pink. At one point Blasko poured cold water on her head, remarking, “I did that quite gracefully I thought, but I’ll probably get electrocuted now.” Quick as a flash, one admiring male in the audience responded with “I’ll drive you to hospital Sarah!”, a cue for giggles all round.
A sizable cloud of dust formed over the main stage around 5.30pm, caused by another enthusiastic set by Romanian gypsies Taraf De Haidouks, and at six the kids’ Samba parade gave those sitting down the feeling they were about to be stampeded by a musical army.
Military discipline was one thing conspicuously lacking from the All-Star gala on stage two, which provided a subtle but significant change from the jam of previous years. Most of the artists present offered an individual number on their own, and sound problems robbed many from enjoying the full range on offer. As always the powerful Japanese percussion work of the Joji Hirota trio was able to cut through the murk, but a hesitant take on Hunters and Collectors’ Throw Your Arms Around Me by the Australian contingent, including Evans and Blasko, could have been better.
White boy reggae exponents the Beautiful Girls drew a big crowd to stage three, but for the most part their work was quite literally a pale imitation of the trailblazing work of Marley, Toots, Cliff and others. They did succeed in keeping the crowd on its feet, and to the left of the stage could be seen the slightly incongruous but very Womad sight of four very dreadlocked black guys grooving to the music being produced by a band of Anglos from Sydney.
The main stage now filled for the performance of widely lauded Israeli singer David D’Or, whose marriage of pop, folk, operatic drama and considerable spiritual intensity made for a tremendous show. Over the course of his performance D’Or was able to get the crowd dancing in unison then keeping perfectly silent as they listened intently to his emotive readings of Jewish prayers in song.
Closing with an ever popular – and ever relevant – call for peace in his region, D’Or provided compelling evidence that the war-torn nature of the Middle East has allowed its artists to reach for emotions and sounds impossible to find in more stable parts of the world.
It was now time for the event finale, which had originally been reserved for “barefoot diva” Cesaria Evora. Sadly Evora was unable even to reach Adelaide after suffering a mild stroke on the east coast, and so the subsequent artist re-shuffle had deep funk exponents Sharon Jones and the Dap-Kings deputising on stage one. It quickly became clear that sonically it was a good move, for Jones’ energy and the pounding backing of the Dap-Kings was more than enough to have a crowd of thousands dancing tirelessly at the end of an exhausting weekend.
It was no overstatement to say their Brooklyn ghetto funk channeled James Brown. Jones provided one moment of inspiration when she summoned “Nathan” from the side of the stage for some lessons on the language of love, and otherwise provided a tremendous finish to the event.
That was until her exit. Jones left the stage to allow the Dap-Kings some of their own time in the spotlight, which band spokesman Binky took as an opportunity to crassly spruik the Daptone Records label with not one but two plugs for their website and merchandise. The band exited to an appreciative roar that quickly turned into loud exhortations for an encore, drowning out the stage compere in the process.
As she battled to contain a crowd that dearly wanted to hear more, a member of stage management shuffled out with a thumbs up signal that suggested there would indeed be an encore, much as Mavis Staples had delivered on opening night.
However a minute passed, and the compere returned with the sad tidings that there would be no more music; setting off a chorus of boos. Backs were turned to the event organisers as they gave a brief concluding address, something entirely out of character for the famously well-behaved and intentioned Womad crowd. Maybe it was the heat, and perhaps Jones was simply too exhausted after giving her all for more than an hour, but it was still a most unsatisfying way to end three days of brilliance.
