Hello and welcome back to the never ending saga of our Jamcruise 8 review extravaganza!   Already we’ve heard tales of close calls with death  - Jamcruise 8 Review Day 1 and love’s promise fulfilled - Jamcruise 8 Review Day 2,  so we now turn our attention to our true purpose in the music scene:  The uniting of the fans, the sharing of a purpose and the building of a family.  

When our founder, the near mythical Dr. Trip started this site, he wanted to build a family of festival attendants, so that we could all not just share the music we loved together but to also take care of one another.  With the rise of Myspace and Facebook and all other manner of social networking and message boards out there, there are growing pockets and communities building around bands and certain singular festivals, and yet, Doc saw a missing link. Dreamt, the magic Doctor did, of creating a place where everyone could come and check rides, to find extra tickets for sale, to set up group meet ups and cookouts, constituted and operated by the fans for  fans.  And maybe, just maybe, someone happens to have a spare nozzle to fit my air mattress pump,  which was the sad origin of the crunch beneath my boot at Bear Creek last year.  Thanks neighbor Bob!  

     And Bob is exactly what I’m talking about and why when Tom (AKA Dr.Trip) first explained his mission statement for this website, he found in me not just his biggest supporter, but a friend for life.  For years I have traveled far and wide in pursuit of my treasured moments of musical bliss, and wherever I have gone I have met folks like Bob, either camped next to me at a festival, or rocking out next to me at a show.  I was, and to a far lesser degree these days, terrible at keeping in contact with people.  As I have worked for this site over the last year or so I have embraced the interconnectivity available to us all now, and am now truly loving my newfound ease of finding my far flung friends.  Old friends like Bob and new friends like Jared, Blake, Caitlin and Cristina.

     Jamcruise features an extensive list of excursions available for nominal fees.  Swimming with stingrays, sightseeing tours and even a pilgrimage to the final resting place of Bob Marley, where much love is laid, many wonderful options are open to you.  Unfortunately, I am something of a nocturnal mammal, and though I don’t require too much rest at a fest, I do need some sort of break.  So I chose to forgo any organized outings and throw my options open to the whims of the universe.  Good things happen when I do that.  While there are no main shows during the time in port, there are artist ran workshops and clinics to attend, ping pong and basketball challenges to be met against the surprisingly nimble musicians to either watch or participate in.  After picking up a lovely plate of fruit and waffles from the breakfast buffet, I was invited by my aforementioned new friends and a few other well wishers, Jay and _______________.  Deciding they were going to just wander down to the local beach, and check out the ultra-touristy on the way for goofs and giggles.  I, as I love to do, interjected myself into their trip by volunteering myself as their free photographer.  I see these little volunteer festival photographer jaunts as my way of repaying the scene and making everyone’s day a little brighter, their memories a little more easy to remember thanks to my little snapshots.  

     There were a few festival staples that were noticeably missing from Jamcruise, the most glaring being the absence of a “Shakedown Street”.  As a part of our commitment to the scene we have built an online version of Shakedown for our site to give vendors a chance to market their wares to a wider audience, and usually I wander through all the booths and check out the wide variety of handmade goods for sale.  As we exited the boat, I realized we had at last found our ‘Shakedown Street”, and it was by far the most aggressive Shakedown I’ve ever seen!  We wandered the shops and looked at garish colored T-shirts and “Hey I was in Jamaica and all I got you was some crappy knickknack” type things.  After paying a tithe to use the beach for about twenty minutes as a slow steady rain began, we all managed to wander into the ocean for a moment, and feel the sand under our naked toes.  The rain built and we retreated to Jimmy Buffet’s Margaritaville, which was possibly one of the more surreal experiences I had.  We were a close knit bunch on our boat, but several other ships were in port, and for a few moments I mingled in the middle of another group I had realized we were missing, screaming college kids.  After watching an obviously fixed booty shaking competition, we sat down and had a lovely snack of fish tacos and chocolate cake!  Nummy!  

    As we sat I marveled at my luck, as is often the case.  Among the main four I spent my afternoon with were; Jared, A leather artist who had made a giant poster for raffling off to help the cruise’s green initiative, Blake a lawyer dedicated to manning his pet project “ This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it ” , an organization founded to protect the rights of the oft profiled festival goers, and Caitlin and Cristina, a pair of best friends and music fans of the highest order.  Cristina, in particular, pulled off an amazing trick, one I didn’t think possible:  She actually made me jealous of the show’s she’d been seeing of late!  I hit eleven music festivals last year, and though my days of envying someone else’s concert attendance were over, but not so.  The rain turned itself up a slight notch and after a quick taxi ride; we were back on the ship, and ready for the day’s first musical offering, John Browns Body.

     Strangely, the only true Reggae act on the bill, John Brown’s Body has operated for more than a decade in one format or the other.   Having topped the Reggae charts last year, they were a fine selection to serenade our slow exit from port, the ship’s horn drowning out the most valiant efforts of the band’s horn section, to every one’s enjoyment.  They sway of the ship increased ever so slightly, as if the boat itself was getting in on the act.  The crowd, having just returned from the home of the music of the Caribbean was in seventh heaven, and so was the band.  The rain didn’t stop the show, it added to it.  As the last notes rang out I zipped by my room and headed to the most architecturally appealing are of the ship, the Atrium.  Situated in the center of the ship, the Atrium was a three story, open center marvel of Stone, brass and glass!  And on a slight rise at the acoustic center of the room, a performance pedestal which housed an exquisite grand piano made of Lucite and brass, a see thru spectacle of musical vivisection.  Tickling the ivories tonight was Mr. Joey Porter, and on vocals, Mr. Jans Inger.   

     Such one of a kind moments are what drew me onto Jamcruise in the first place.  The beauty of the setting, combined with the acoustic resonance of the listening space that allowed Inger to sing without microphone, just letting his heartfelt voice reach out to all who had gathered, hushed and reverential.  Joey Porter’s mastery of his technique is captivating, to be certain, but for me the amazing thing was the emotion that he played with.  Looking through my camera lens, my third eye, I saw a perfect synthesis of expression and playing.  A wry smile as he played a dexterously complicated run, utter seriousness as he thundered down an overpowering run but always settling into the same, eyes shut to the world expression of perfect oneness with the music that I live to see on the faces of those creating all the music that means so much to me.  Satisfying an unrealized need to feel some simple human passion and skill, their set was one of my favorites, hands down.  A quick spin by Break Science reminded me of a couple of things:  How badass Break Science is, an incredible mix of live techno organic funk!  And, secondly and of far graver importance to me was how excruciating I found it to even look into the Zebra Bar.  As a photographer and a black and white artist, the carpet, floor to ceiling, high contrast zebra print that covered everything, was, as far as my eye could see,  an act of cruelty to my personal aesthetic that was nearly too much to take.  I sank to my knees at one point and was forced to crawl forth blindly, so disturbing to my equilibrium was the pattern.  Although, how awesome a time is it that the absolute worst part of your trip was the carpet in one of the rooms was helter skelter!  Jamcruise!

     One of the main draws on the bill for me was the evening’s pool deck headliner, Karl Denson’s Tiny Universe. The funk lives in this band, as does the soul of the funk itself.   Gifted saxophone and flutist Karl Denson has put together, in the form of his Tiny Universe, a band that doesn’t just need to be heard, it deserves to be heard.  Power is the word with this outfit, from the strength and confidence in abilities that only comes from countless hours of practice, to the incredible size of Karl Denson!  He is such a fitness fanatic and body builder that I felt safe from any sort of icebergs or meteors or any such extraterrestrial threats, as we obviously had our very own superhero there to protect us.  I am a comic book geek from way back, and it always bugged me when people in comics didn’t recognize the barely disguised superhero in their midst.  I’m on to you, Karl Denson, mild mannered saxophonist…and so much more!  Jeff coffin, Robert Walters, Ivan Neville and Skerik all came out and blended their sounds and song, making the Tiny Universe a little bit larger.  Josh Phillips Folk Festival vocalist Debrissa McKinney took the stage and captured the crowd with her soulful singing, and Karl, after giving each member of his band their moment at the forefront, peeled off hot lick after hot lick of pure fire, His sax transforming into a flamethrower of funk, burning his message into each and every heart who heard him.  This band is a beast, I tell ya.

     After a marathon set of guests and jams galore, it was time to take flight.  I had been admonished by Cristina not to miss Dragon Smoke, and after her recitation of the lineup it was obvious she knew whereof she spoke.  However, my love of Skerik and his straight from the inferno brand of saxophone conjuring and Mike Dillon’s(http://www.myspace.com/mikedillonpercussion) sheer percussive brilliance (Seriously, I was so inspired by him that I have taken up the percussive arts!)I had the Jam Room and Skerik hosting thereof as one my “Can’t miss.  Though they play together in Garage a Trois, but this was my second opportunity to catch a glimpse of these two alone, feeding off each other.  At Bear Creek, as well as on this night, I found myself to lost in my jamming to take as many pictures as I would like, so impressive was their dichotomy.  Skerik blowing out licks and runs of speed and precision, while Mike D assaulted his drum kit with a vengeful glee.  After an hour or so of guests sliding out, I bowed out to dash on to Dragon Smoke.  The best part of the Jam Room was its duration, all night long is the way I like it, and that’s what you got.  All my late nights ended down in that room, dancing my butt off or trancing away,as I reclined on one of the many ample chairs or sofas.

     Already respectful of Cristina’s concert acumen, not to mention her super special stash of a high end dark chocolate  bar, seasoned with chili powders that totally saved me from my growing chocolate jones, I met up with her and Caitlin ready for the Dragon Smoke show to begin.  And let me say that the old adage is true, when there is smoke there is indeed FIRE!  Eric Lindell on vocals and guitar, Ivan Neville, who was every where at once! on vocals and keys, Stanton Moore on drums and fellow Galactic rhythm sectionist Robert Mercurio playing some mean bass for your face.  My biggest and most joyous surprise of the week, as I was floored by the array of talent before me.  I say again, if there is better live drummer than Stanton Moore, than I haven’t seen him.  Since my very first exposure to Galactic at a show in 1999 I have been devout, devout I tell you in my worship of Mr.Moore.  Not content to merely play with a sense of time and power that I have not seen matched, he adds in a sense of wonder and glee that are infectious to all around.  Lindell seemed so comfortable on the stage with this ensemble that at one point as the music raged, he turned and gave our side of the a playful wink and closed his eyes to fade away from his self and blend his notes into the whole.  Funky grooves, and righteous extended jams ruled the night.  

     By the time I made it back to the Jamroom it was painfully obvious that I had missed some fierce goings on on the opposite end of the ship.  I arrived to find the stage packed as Krasno jostled for space next to Mike D, as George Porter made his presence known, Skerik pointing out the changes and acting as your Jamroom conductor, making sure Steve Kimock got a moment to lay down some crystal clear phrasing, that Jeff Coffin was able to take a moment to solo above the quivering mass of mad funk being brought to life on the small stage.  My head started to whirl a gig on me, letting me know that my upfront shooting time was limited, as Zach Deputy came out in full sparkly cape regalia.  I retreated to a empty lounge chair and closed my eyes, occasionally opening  them to assure concerned passerby that I was not spun out (A point of pride:  Though I have spun out in the confines of my own home, I have always made it there, and never once have I over shot my limits at a festival.  I might be a few minutes later than I wished, but I will arrive!)  There are moments of music that I have witnessed that I will cherish always, and those moments of sitting so very comfortably, hearing a magic round robin of virtuosity previously unmatched in my many myriad adventures in music were instantly etched high upon that list.  High indeed!

 Words and pictures by Rex Thomson

Click on the images below to enjoy a photo slide show from Jamcruise 2010 Day 3.

Stay Tuned For Day 4