We rode the gale
Ran ahead of the storm
Never fearing
The rain that might catch us

We drank the deeps
Probing the within
Always curious
For what was concealed

We grasped the candle
Illuminating each page
Devouring knowledge
Ignoring wisdom until dawn

We brandished the blades
Of well honed rhetoric
Clashing arms
Ruling our small, small world

We laughed at the fools
Ate of their feasts
Never realizing
They were ourselves

Friday starts off (as every day) with regional act, Whiskey Tango on the Rhino Deck. These guys are a fun loving band with a large following who are excellent at getting the party started. I have to admit, I don’t envy having to wake up and prepare for a noon show, but WT takes it all in stride and throws down the exact kind of set needed to wake and warm the crowd for the coming day’s entertainment.

At 5 PM, Scarlet Haze took the main stage, throwing down some grooving metal tunes, they are fronted by a singer dressed, well, for the summer weather. It makes the combination of sound and sight a pleasing one indeed, and they deliver the goods with solid playing matched to excellent vocals. Scarlet Haze is a band out of the Twin Cities on the cusp of big things, and they certainly demonstrate that here.

They are followed at 7 PM by veteran band, Slaughter. They take the stage and pour out a massively entertaining show, bringing the crowd together and whipping them up for the post-sunset entertainment. Backstage they seem to truly enjoy and respect their fans, eager to take pics and mix with them, as well as giving a wonderful interview. Mark Slaughter himself is a hilarious man, and always ready with a smile and a bit of mischief.

At 9 PM, Lita Ford took the stage. Lita is one of the true queens of rock, and hasn’t slowed a step in putting on a fantastic show. She commands a huge stage presence and demonstrated just how well she works a crowd to the Halfway Jam audience. With a mixture of her classic and current hits, she put together an incredible display of good old fashioned rock and roll. Backstage, Lita was, despite her status, a truly genuine and down-to-earth personality, willing to show her fans what they mean to her as well as listen to what she meant to them.

Capping off Friday night at 11 PM was Cinderella. There are few front men in the business who can put on the caliber of show that Tom Kiefer can, and he demonstrated it once again here. Playing lead guitar, piano, lap guitar and even saxophone, Tom demonstrated a rare musical genius. Whether you are a Cinderella fan or not, seeing them live is an experience. Rarely do bands play with such passion, each note coming with an almost painful fervor. It would be hard to think of a better band to cap off the night at a festival geared towards the 80’s metal scene. Cinderella fit the bill perfectly.

Saturday kicked off on the main stage at 5 PM with Minnesota homeboys Hericane Alice. Coming into the ‘Strip scene at the tail end of the 80’s, Hericane Alice are no strangers to the uphill climb bands of that era had to overcome to achieve success. With a blend of high energy, personality and even a few unique takes on covers, they were a perfect choice to get the crowd rocking, despite overcast skies and patches of rain.

The sunset show at 7 PM was headed by Stephen Pearcy of Ratt. With a different backing band, Stephen still brought out the tracks that he built his career on. However, without the 2-guitar attack that Ratt had as a signature sound, one couldn’t help but feel something was a bit amiss with the show. Still, it was solid entertainment.

After Pearcy, the 9 PM show on the main stage was Kix. For those who have not seen a Kix concert, Steven Whitehead is an amazing and tireless frontman. He is constantly moving, constantly interacting with the crowd, and high energy both on and off stage. The band follows suit and their show was non-stop from beginning to end, leaving the crowd breathless and enthusiastic for more. Kix is a band the gives it’s all, every show, and this was once again demonstrated at Halfway Jam 2011.

The big guns were yet to come, however. Capping off the main stage shows at this years Jam was Skid Row. Blistering out of the gate with an assembly of huge hits, Skid Row threw down some serious rock in a straightforward no-nonsense style. Their show is about the music, as loud and proud as possible. They took the crowd to its limit and left them exhausted and happy.

That is exactly how we left Halfway Jam ourselves. We retired to the hotel room at the end of our 2 week adventure in the Minnesota festival circuit, our rock cravings satisfied for the moment, and with plenty of memories and new friends to follow up with.

Overall, the Halfway Jam lineup was an absolute pleasure to watch. The good-old-party attitude and rock atmosphere contributed to an enthusiastic festival, the quality of which is easily apparent. With the tireless work of the Henry family and Rockhouse Productions, this festival is only going to grow, and will keep turning more heads each year. Plan a trip to Minnesota in July, and take in this kickass festival.

Under the warm July sun, in an open field nestled between the crops just outside of the sleepy town of Royalton, MN, a transformation is taking place. A stage is erected, and speaker arrays are hung from lifts, where they will stay over the course of a week. Barrels are placed out for trash and vendors move trailers in with hopes of profit from the event to come. The grass is littered with giant empty wire spools to serve as makeshift tables, and an electricity begins to permeate the air. The Henry farm is about to play host to 3 days of rock and roll, focused on bringing back a bygone era of screaming guitars and carefree attitudes.

Halfway Jam is a young festival, having just completed it’s 7th year. The lineup, however, has become rich and full of talent. People are noticing, and numbers of attendees are increasing yearly. What once was a party for a few hundred friends has grown, and now attendance runs into 5 figures. It is a magical time for the festival, seeing it “turn the corner” from a small regional collection and hit that sweet spot between size and talent; keeping the close-to-home feel while bringing in nationally known acts.

Driving into the festival, it’s hard not to be struck by it’s certain charms when compared to the “big festivals” occurring elsewhere. The same faces attend the gates, and recognize yours. The entire setup is easily viewable and provides quick access to what the festival has to offer. The blue collar sensibilities of central Minnesota dominate, making for a mix of practicality and hospitality for everyone who comes. The production may not as yet be on the grand scale of the national fests, but it has a grass roots feel. Rock is the thing, as much of it as can be packed into each of the 3 days, and it is good.

The drive up to Halfway Jam (complete with an emergency recorder purchase in a Guitar Center and a share of traffic scares) ends pulling into the understated entrance off Highway 10 and parking in the traditional grass festival lots. Upon piling out of the vehicles, it’s immediately apparent that the party is in full swing. When Halfway Jam packs the schedule, they mean business. Two stages are alternating at all times, the Main Stage and the Rhino Deck. From noon until after midnight the sound never stops in the main areas, and is quickly picked up in the various campsites tucked into the woods behind the fest until the small hours. The stages stand opposite each other across a center clearing, and the audience merely has to turn and walk a short distance to continue their entertainment. For those who want as much music as they can get, it’s hard to beat this setup.

Around the main area are scattered various vendors selling their assortment of food and drinks, as well as a central beer tent to provide shade and libations for the festival crowd. Our group hustles backstage behind the main stage to begin trying to catch interviews and photos immediately, while still being able to listen quite well to the Rhino Deck bands. Backstage is already buzzing as well, with food and refreshments for staff and bands both, hemmed in by the trailers reserved for performers’ use during their stay at the fest.

The main stage acts on Thursday are scheduled to be heavy metal pioneers, Quiet Riot, followed by the closer, Firehouse. Thursday itself is new to Halfway Jam in 2011, the festival having previously been 2 days instead of 3. Even as an added day, the crowds are already gathering in force to hear one of the original kings of metal perform. Looking at the crowd, I can’t help but notice the increase in size even on a “new day”, as well as the enthusiasm. It’s a good sign for this weekend, and the festival as a whole.

Quiet Riot delivers. Their new singer, Mark Huff, belts out powerful vocals hitting the entire register of Kevin DuBrow. Mark is a humble man, overjoyed at the opportunity to play with one of the bands that were his musical heroes. You can tell in his actions during the performance that he relishes being on stage and is determined to give the fans their money’s worth. During the performance, Frank Banali delivers a short, but stirring tribute to DuBrow, calling for a moment of silence. Afterwards, the band crushes out some of their classics, finishing with passion and emotion.

The night ends with Firehouse. I am, admittedly, on the fence about Firehouse… rather I was. Backstage, they are an incredibly friendly and hospitable band with guitarist Bill Leverty more than willing to take pictures, interact and even interview. On stage they change my mind completely. This is not a band cashing in on previous stardom. These are hard working, dedicated performers who still roll out their tunes with gusto and power. Everything is high energy and filled with drive and zeal. Firehouse pulls the crowd into one enthusiastic roar after another, capping the night with a brilliant performance.

Afterwards, like every night, the woods behind the stage are filled with revelers who haven’t gotten enough out of their night as of yet. It seems everywhere one walks, there is one camp or another free with music and drinks for those walking by. The atmosphere is very non-exclusive, everyone seems a brother in rock, and all are willing to share in the good times. With the upcoming bands on days 2 and 3, this festival will only get better.

While the vibe at Moondance Jam is definitely a huge draw and a big factor of its appeal, music festivals are still about music. This being the 20th Anniversary of Moondance Jam, I had the opportunity to peruse various adverts and information detailing the bands that have played the festival throughout its history. In doing so, I was stunned by how many true rock legends had played here over the years. Their history reads like a who’s-who of rock itself, and this year was no exception.

In the last few years as the legends of classic rock have departed, Moondance has turned its eye towards more modern acts, mixing them into the fold and gradually transforming the festival while maintaining its true spirit. Thursday started off with Cracker on the main stage, showing old audiences and new their easy-to-listen to mix of clever tunes to get the crowd warmed up and grooving.

At 5 PM, Candlebox took the stage in what was, at least to me, one of the biggest surprises of the Jam. They came out all guns blazing with a high energy set, working the crowd and definitely setting the bar for acts to follow. Their frontman, Kevin Martin, did a masterful job interacting with the crowd and getting everyone into the show.

Following Candlebox were rock veterans, Great White. Initially, I was behind the stage when their show began, and thought Jack Russell was in fine form. Imagine my surprise when I came out front and saw that it was not Jack singing, as he is recovering from surgery, but Terry Ilous of XYZ. His vocals were dead on, and the band’s performance as a whole was tight, well played and excellent, making for an enjoyable show.

As night settled and the crowd kept growing, .38 Special brought their own special blend of southern rock to the stage. With a vigorous and driven performance, they pushed out their host of hits and had the crowd right along with them. These guys are masters of their craft, and demonstrated it once again at Moondance Jam.

The night ended with a bit of a surprise in 3 Doors Down; surprising moreso because of the choice in a closer than their actual show. While 3 Doors Down may be a top-selling national act, their show turned out to be a bit slower paced and mellow compared to the previous shows.

Friday opened with the Belfast Cowboys, a Van Morrison tribute. They played well and sounded good, but sadly I was away from the stage for most of the show.

Following them, however, was a shocker of a set from the Outlaws. They threw down a 3 guitar attack of southern rock that actually pulled people from out in the campsites in to see just who it was playing. Tight, high energy and utterly enthusiastic, it was a killer show. The best part was the band was going all-in for it, throwing themselves into the music with abandon. There’s nothing like passion in a band to make a show special.

One of the all time classics took the stage next in Eddie Money. Eddie has been a working man’s rocker for years, with plenty of hits to back up his repertoire. He nailed them all in this show, and even earned a round of applause from the backstage crew while walking back to the bus.

Paul Rodgers followed, one of the true legends of rock. The man behind Free, Bad Company and The Firm hasn’t lost a step with his singing and performing. The set he threw down at Moondance was heavy on Bad Co. due to the American audience, but also included a wonderful Jimi Hendrix tribute with a rendition of “Little Wing”. The audience was captivated, and Rodgers proved why he is a legend in rock & roll.

Friday closed with a contradiction to the subtle and amazing stylings of Paul Rodgers by bringing out another troupe of legends in KISS. The energy for this show had been building all day amongst the crowd, with plenty of face paint and costumes from the KISS Army popping up amongst the milling crowds. When the show finally arrived it did not disappoint. Kiss brought out their army of effects and host of radio anthems, and fired off enough pyrotechnics to almost be mistaken for a small-scale tank war. For 2 solid hours, the crowd was rocked by pure spectacle underpinned with a multi-decade catalogue of favorites.

Saturday came around, bringing some sun and heat to the festival grounds, and promising another day of great entertainment. Overall it did not disappoint.

It started with Thundherstruck, an all-female AC/DC tribute band. They were a surprisingly fun and entertaining show, with each member of the band crafting an excellent version of their inspiration. The vocals by Dyna Shirasaki put a female twist on both Bon Scott and Brian Johnson’s vocals, but were still immediately recognizable and powerful. Tina Wood had the Angus Young routine nailed, down to the one-handed guitar solos. They were a pleasant surprise and an awful lot of fun to see.

Burton Cummings, known better as the voice behind The Guess Who, took the stage at 5 PM. One could tell the audience may not have been familiar with him by name, but were definitely familiar with his bevy of hits. For a guy now in his 60’s, Burton’s voice has not lost a step, and he kept audiences enthralled for over an hour.

Fuel followed Burton on the main stage, putting up a good mix of fast and slow songs, creating a solid show. Much like Candlebox, they threw in a Led Zeppelin cover to mix things up and keep the audience fresh with something unexpected.

To see Joan Jett backstage, one would get the impression of someone who is shy, perhaps even a bit afraid of crowds. To see Joan Jett on stage you see the essence of a rocker in her diminutive form. On stage she let’s it all out, rocking with passion and fervor, and bringing the audience right along with her. Covering all of her hits, she gave the crowd exactly what it wanted from one of the original chick-rockers.

Closing the night, and the festival, was Stone Temple Pilots. They were perhaps the only real disappointment of the festival, playing a fairly flat 50 minute set with a 2 song encore. I had hoped for more energy rather than just volume to hallmark their show and put a brilliant finish on the festival (like the one Lynyrd Skynyrd put on last year), but it seemed a rather unremarkable, if not loud, performance.

Overall, the entertainment was top notch once again at Moondance Jam this year. Rock legends mixed with future legends to create an amazing show, and it was hard to find a low point anywhere. The crowds were huge and spectacular. With the Moondance energy in the air, the parties continued all through the night. From what I witnessed, everyone left happy and satisfied.

One note must be made here. With the passing of Bill Bieloh, the future of Moondance Jam was somewhat in doubt. Thanks to you, the crowd that makes this festival happen, it appears Moondance 21 will be happening! Your outpouring of love and support for the Bieloh family and staff during his tribute on Friday, and continued support for this festival makes a ton of difference. Keep checking out on www.moondancejam.com for the latest details, information and to read the wonderful thank you from the Moondance folks.

For shuffling on the bended knees
The middling seeker begs for ease
A secret kept the stars may cede
Who knows but where this path will lead?

This comes with the caveat of how the music is obtained. Like it or not, people have space to fill with music, and they will find a way to do so within their means. Most pay, albeit at cheaper rates than traditional, shiny discs. Some download everything they can get without worrying about cost. Others use aformentioned listening services to get their fix for free and legally. All of it seems to point to a depression in music sales and somehow to “starving artists”.

Is this necessarily the case? To buy into this scenario, we have to imagine a world wherein the artist is only rewarded by the sale of a physical good, an album. While this has long been the standard of the publishers of said albums, is it really the truth?

I bring this up not to engender the debate about piracy versus exposure and create an economic comparison, but for another reason entirely. I am suggesting that this model to which artists, publishers and consumers have become used to has left behind the most important piece of the music industry… the social experience.

In an increasingly fragmented, digital society we’ve become accustomed to solitary consumerism. We listen to what we want, when we want, and in private. We take in our entertainment via distance-distribution channels, for the most part digitally. While we may engage in passionate discourse about the music that inspires us (or repulses), we do it in a remote fashion. To put it bluntly, we make music a commodity that is consumed, digested, and discarded. This alone may account for why so much music today is manufactured crap.

Music, from it’s very origins, has always been about the social experience. Whether cavemen beating on rocks in unison or a monk humming a solitary hymn while they worked, it has been a communication, a communion. It is something that has occurred in every society in all the world without exception, no matter how remote and disparate the society might be. Music is almost mythical in its ability to bring us to a point of identification, and thus share that identification with others.

With the focus on the consumption of music, we find ourselves increasingly ignoring the experience of music. For any who have attended a concert with thousands moving, screaming and jumping in unison, the effects are obvious and powerful. There is an unspoken energy at such an event, a bonding that occurs between people who may not even see each other. Most of all, a memory is created, a single point in time shared by many with music as its common bond.

Yes, with a large enough collection we can experience all the sweet notes we wish whenever we wish, but I daresay it carries far less power than one night of seeing such a thing live. Why else would thousands congregate to hear something they have heard a hundred or a thousand times before? It’s the experience, etched firmly into our minds by the music… the memory and all the nostalgia to follow that creates a moment greater than the sum of its parts.

The music industry, the artists especially, should focus on this. Theirs is the crafting of experience. If one thing has been proven ad-nauseum in the modern day it’s that anyone can create a song with enough auto tune. The focus should be less on the milktoast that sells and more on the variety of dishes that not everyone will like, but rather on the creation of the social phenomenon; the identification of the crowd with the music itself. Those who identify with the artist sufficiently will buy the album the 8th time in its new special edition format with the neon day-glo CD and band-themed, stuffed farm animal. Otherwise, they’ll listen and forget soon enough.

I used to believe in death.

I used to believe in many things. Before the sea change in all I could perceive overtook me, sweeping me away like the current in an ocean far vaster than a mind could encompass. I did not realize how long I’d stood on it’s edge, waiting at the brink of creation for the the inevitable.

Things change.

Are we truly alive? Or are we but concepts… eternal sine waves rolling out into the ether, seeking harmony against which to resonate… There were so many things I believed then, before bit by bit they were broken down for me; crumbled in hands which grasped for those old securities… tried to retain a fragment, a grain of sand in all the earth upon which I could stand. But it, too, was swept away.

We don’t realize how easy it all is. There is a mother, a father. There are friends and romances and moments. Oh, such sweet moments. Bit by bit they build upon each other, forging us in the crucible of shared experience. Green is green, the sky lasts forever, there is nothing beyond the stars except meager theory. And time… that old grognard standing watch over us all, counting each minute and each moment from beginning to end, each passionate glance, each whispered secret… leaving echoes for only his ears to remember. He, too, fades away.

All memories… all moments, reflected in pieces of the mirror self, now broken, tumbling into the void. Now meaningless. There is the void, and there is you… that single, perpetual tone, vibration, energy. We keep it trapped within us always, covering it with layer upon layer of our meaning. But the time always comes when we must face it, enter it, and see what is there.

Before, it was death.

I used to believe in death.

She was young. Hindsight calls her ethereal. A pale creature, drawn inward through every external act. Eyes that looked about nervously and yet could not see what was there. Hair so light it seemed an illusion. Memory fades, the colors are washed away, her previous self the shadow of her reality.

She is a goddess, my goddess.

I remember her shadow. I remember the disdain for it. We are born creatures of dimension. Light reveals, we collect and categorize. Automatons within our reality, moving object A to object B. Trading object C for more of A. The board is fixed and we only rearrange the pieces. We disdain the flawed pawns, thinking ourselves the knight. She moved among us, only brushing against our board. Our objects held no meaning.

Nostalgia and regret blend. Memory dithers and becomes a collection of old, paper photographs. Scenes are acted out across flickering analogue screens behind our eyes and the colors never become clear. We wonder if they were ever real. Even our emotions, once so strong, now ring hollow like footsteps in a deserted hall. There is no thinking like we used to, for we are reborn each instant, every experience teaching us whether or not we are willing. The sweet memory turns and is now the faint ease of an old book. It is only alive insomuch as we will it.

Her shadow, my regret. Her ascension, my salvation. Reality is and is. Things change. There is no death.

There, you nodded
Confirming every memory
Your hand in mine, as before
A gentle squeeze with what strength remained
The past bridging the future in your gaze
Life to love to eternity

You held it, for as long as you could
Knowing there were none after

Seeking but one more moment here, with me
Your pain fled, your soul beckoned
To what lay beyond

And there, that final look
The peace cutting through pain
As we both knew, we both felt
The time, dragging away from us

Your gaze never leaving mine
A small shudder

Exhale

Your life spun out in crystalline motes
That danced in the morning sun
So much like your life
Once here, now gone in an instant
Settling upon my lips
Your final kiss
Your final gift to me
And it too, like your breath
Soon did fade

It was a late fall day

I stood and looked and listened light
To hear again that note
So clear, so soft within the night
Within each darkened mote

And followed I into the moon
That wond’rous voice so fair
That for a time I might commune
Within her midnight lair

Driven was I to find the name
Of what could give such voice
A light to kindle heart to flame
To make the soul rejoice

Through the darkness of moonlight
I ran without a care
Until the sun did break the night
And I did find you there

A new wonder mine eye was shown
Such warmth and beauty and light
My soul now cleansed and not alone
Now banished was the night

And laid aside is memory
Under your heart sublime
This new love does call to me
And forgotten is all time

Though between all worlds may be
That the dark will always lie
So will love as mine for thee
And the sun shall always rise

When you hop into a shower, you carefully adjust the temperature to your liking before climbing in. Nobody loves that initial shock of the cold water emptying from the pipes before the warmth begins, nor the feeling of wondering if someone has replaced your previously trusty shower with an active volcano. We get the temperature just right to ease on into it.

If you’re prone to soaking in the shower, something strange happens. The previously toasty water becomes tepid so you inch the knob up a bit and bring it back to that satisfyingly hot level. After a bit, another tweak, and another. Soon the water is at the volcano levels you would normally avoid when first getting in, but you have adjusted gradually. Of course, the next day you’ll wonder who keeps sneaking in and messing with your shower knobs.

The advent of rock into the music world was much akin to flushing the toilet on someone while they’re enjoying a nice, warm soak. The heat was suddenly turned up unexpectedly, and those basking in their comfortable music reacted with outrage. Something new, rebellious and even a bit scary had come bursting into the limelight, guitars roaring, singers screaming and all the thunder of hell in it’s magnetic beats.

It all seems so quaint when we look back on it from the modern perspective.

We peek back at some of the early legends of rock, the ones who broke away from the constraints of being “crossover” artists (no disrespect to the King intended), and even they were by our modern view rather folksy, perhaps bluesy, and certainly not what we in our enlightened state would call “offensive”. We must remember, however, to the crowds that had never heard overdriven chords in those heavy, blues notes alongside vaguely tribal rhythms, it must have been a shock indeed.

The youth latched on. It became the voice they did not have. All the rebellious spirit and coursing hormones and need to let it out suddenly was there in a tapestry they could use as expression and share with one another. Rock came, rock conquered, and rock rolled onward. Bands experimented with sound, creating a thousand sub genres from folk to new wave to progressive rock. It burgeoned from counter-culture to mainstream, one thing uniting it all… the undying spirit of freedom, emotion and expression.

During the transitions of rock’s early decades, something else began to happen. Much like our adventures in the shower, listeners adjusted to it. The musical water grew tepid to each succeeding generation seeking the same thing, something to shock them awake and make them feel alive. Just as their parents shocked their grandparents with this sudden burst of emotion and rebellion, so these new listeners would shock theirs. Like the layers one can witness on a canyon wall, another layer of rock was laid down, and the whole became heavier.

Another generation came, another window from which they could express and shock was due. Now there was more rock to lay down, the foundation heavier yet. To achieve the same effect, the musical waters had to be turned up yet more. A divergence towards darkness began, some bands experimenting with sounds none had heard before. Dark, thunderous, heavily distorted riffs alongside lyrics as black as night. Rebellion became disaffection, and a new counter-culture was built around it. From the hole in the wall, new music blared, was absorbed and laid the heaviest foundation yet.

Again and again, new layers were added. Sounds grew heavier. Lyrics grew more angst. The former diversification headed back to a new unification as the disaffected laid claim to rock’s holy ground. What would have been considered rock before was scoffed at and put aside, and remains there still under various monikers such as “classic” and “oldies”. To the later generations, it may not even be considered rock at all. The layers of rock, each atop the last, has grown so thick now that the original layers at the bottom can no longer feel the pounding at the top.

Is this now the only rock? Or have we merely changed the definition? I would hazard the latter. As jaded as we may now be, we cannot ignore what effects the original rock & roll had on its listeners. Nor can we discount the foundation it laid for all of our beloved music which has come after. I can sit down today and enjoy the gutturally dark tones of a Fear Factory, and follow it with the light and experimental sounds of Jethro Tull. To me, they both are rock, both representative of the aforementioned spirit of freedom, emotion, and expression.

Inasmuch as we try to change the definition of rock, I think it still does supercede us all. For 50 years, the world has been forced to pay attention to it. Through the glitz and pop and glamour of genres that have come and gone, no other genre in the last century has created as many legendary tunes as rock. No other genre has managed to bridge generations with a few simple lyrics and bars that are immediately identifiable to both young and old. Let’s face it, 99% of what we hear today will be forgotten within 20 years. But in rock… there we find the songs that last 20, 30, 50 years. Rock is more than today, more than yesterday. It is the musical identification of the part of our souls that will always yearn for freedom.