CARLTON FLETCHER: New ‘buzz’ surrounds downtown festival

Bring tha noise …

— Public Enemy

Before the start of the newly named Downtown Street Festival Saturday, as I sat here perched above the commotion on Pine Avenue, looking out my window directly onto the temporary stage set up for the musical acts, I had to admit to feelings of indifference.

Or maybe it was feelings of “no difference.”

There seemed to hang in the air the funk of been-there, done-that, a feeling that everyone was just going through the motions because the street fest was “something we’ve always done.” You know, all these folks were in town for the marathon, so why not try to keep them hanging around, maybe even get them to spend some of that out-of-town money that we love so well?

My feelings, which were bordering on melancholy … Is this going to be just another thing that no one in Albany supports? … appeared to be spot-on when, at just around noon, I looked out my window and saw only a smattering of people. I’ll admit to thinking, “Yeah, we just need to pull the plug here.”

But as I wrote an article about visiting the Tift Community Market earlier in the morning, a strange thing happened. Somewhere between manipulating all the photographs from Tift Park and writing a story about the event, people started showing up. Pausing for a moment to consider a word that was eluding me, I glanced out the window onto the street below. And there were people there.

Lots of people.

I watched as the P&W Trio (I love Willie Moody!) ended their very excellent opening set of soul, Motown and R&B covers, and was admittedly confused when I saw the guys in Unbreakable Bloodline setting up. There is no more high-energy musical group around than UBL, and I wondered why they weren’t playing later in the day. But, as it turned out, maybe getting this popular local band on early was inspired. Downtown Albany came alive as Unbreakable Bloodline unleashed their unique, sky-high-energy brand of funk, rock, hip-hop and soul.

When UBL played their final song and called fans forward for a “group selfie,” there was more than the fading strains of the band’s music hanging in the air. There was a buzz of excitement, the kind that you get when a musical act manages to tap into the energy of its audience.

Which might have made things difficult for the act that followed, except that act happened to be the Bo Henry Band. Bo and his boys plugged in with a “we’ve done this thing before” kind of nonchalance — and confidence — that spilled over into the band’s excellent set.

I had to leave and didn’t get to see Southern Arts Ensemble (Who was that new young sax player?) and Relapse — perhaps the best local musical act ever at bringing fun to a party — but when I left that buzz that was in the air when UBL finished its set was still present. I found myself hating the fact that I had other obligations.

Herald staffer Terry Lewis and I were talking about the growing crowd after he went into the throng to get some interviews for a story on the event, and he said something that struck me: “You know, that’s a really young crowd down there, and that’s a good thing for the future of this event.”

Lewis was right. Crowds of young people — teens and twentysomethings — stood, danced or sat in packs near the stage, their conversations animated with the excitement of being outdoors on a beautiful late-winter day (which in south Georgia means springtime) with really good, up-beat music playing around them. I immediately thought of the charm of the Pied Piper of Hamlin, but I dismissed this because I didn’t want to equate these revelers with rats.

What I did do, though, was smile and send out mental congratulations to Henry, Tommy Gregors, Rashelle Beasley, Phil Cannon and other volunteers who work so hard each year to make this event happen. This was the kind of response that people talk about with friends who weren’t there, the kind that brings them back the next year.

One other thing that Lewis said Saturday that harshed my mellow just a tad: As we discussed the age of the audience at the festival, he said, “Fletch, doesn’t it seem that the crowd is much younger than usual.” When I acknowledged that it did, he mused a bit and added, “Or maybe it’s just the fact that we’re getting older.”

Damn your stating of the obvious, Terry Lewis.