This year, Freedom Fest fell a bit flat. Entries and attendance were
both down. Some blamed the heat wave that had passed through, while
others put more faith in the string of unpredictable weather events preceding
the event. Something in the air played a larger role though; likely,
nothing more than poor marketing and promotion. Folks were still getting
used to the idea of the annual cardboard regatta occurring on the 4th of July
weekend.
Mostly clear skies offered up another beautiful day splashing about in and
around Sandy Beach. The only five entrants to the contest offered
amusement in the late morning hours on the beach, intertwined with contestants
face down in watermelon. Rain threatened as the day wore on, and a
bit of lightening eventually chased most out of the water.
Hunger eventually pushed our party towards other points on the map of this
little town, along with the promise of a cool pillow in a darkened room for a
few hours. Foul weather eventually gave up on the region and a little
nap time renewed vigor towards additional beach activities later in the
day. Arriving just before sundown, the lawn chairs had already
begun to litter the sand in anticipation of the coming show.
The rockets' red glare and bombs bursting in the air eventually pulled
through and lit the night sky, raining down electric streamers, reflecting
across the water in a festival of lights comparable to few. A view
from the sand or down in the water could only be bested by one floating in
the middle of the small inland ocean. We had missed the music, the
races had flopped, but none of it really mattered among family, friends and
few hundred acquaintances, under sparkling night skies.
While visiting the great state of Arkansas, we had the opportunity to check out this event, which had been elusive for several years. The endurance of some of these hand manufactured boats was quite surprising, and amusing at times. Apparently, the theme of the year was Star Wars, and there were quite a variety of flotation constructions about the landscape of Sandy Beach. All of the contraptions endured the warm waters quite well, and really did not take on any water. It was quite surprising, considering the construction materials permitted. A few, while water tight, contained a few minor design flaws that caused disintegration under pressure. One almost fell apart at the starting line, and eventually did, prior to the finish line. It was quite a lot of fun though, and a full house on the beach in spite of threatening rain. We look forward to getting back to it again. view more photos from this event or add your own to the mix
We dropped by for a look at progress on various forms of art littering the sidewalks of the City Market this evening. Chores and other obligations had made it impossible to make it down for the festivities during normal hours, and the same reasons made visiting the next day improbable. The early evening viewing proved perfect for unhindered access to the art in progress. Everyone had mostly left for the day. A few lingered, finishing up their goals. Judging by the number in progress, there did not appear to be quite as many participants as in years before. What was on display looked good, although not quite on par with some of the displays witnessed in the past.
On the borderlands of the city, the oddly comforting smell of freshly tilled dirt pushed the more acrid stench of the encroaching urban area into the distant recesses of short-term memory for the evening. Diesel and dust would eventually become the dominant fragrance in the vicinity, occasionally interrupted by distinct aroma of burning alcohol. A spot midfield, behind the cattle fencing and in front of the announcer booth, offered good fortunate right next to an individual intimately familiar with most of the vehicles and their drivers. The cheerful character filled us in on expectations and unique rules for the events of the evening, happily answering questions and offering unique insight, mixing it up with a good dose of amicable conversation. High performance internal combustion engines cycling to explosive levels soon relegated all attempts at conversation to the space between each run occurring over the next several hours. The machinery in play co
image borrowed under Creative Commons from The Concept of “Resource” Traveling down the road this morning, tuned in to "Morning Edition" on the local National Public Radio station KCUR, a brief story unfolded about failing concert ticket sales across the nation. It seems that just in the last few days The Black Keys and Jennifer Lopez have cancelled tours citing other reasons, in spite of data indicating pre-sales for their concerts were not living up to expectations. It is an interesting little tale that identifies the cause at a high level. The cost of tickets to some of our favorite shows has become completely unrealistic. Fans are backing away from the extreme expense of enjoying their favorite artists. In 2023, an article in People magazine marked the average price of concert ticket at $252. Add to that parking, dinner, drinks, memorabilia, and all t
by Betty Kang, PlexiPR ~ The Bugged Out DJ series Suck My Deck returns with the boss of the increasingly prolific Crosstown Rebels imprint and purveyor of the critically acclaimed Rebel Futurism compilations, Damian Lazarus. Damian’s Suck My Deck selection is a top-notch mix by this all round hedonist, “dance floor DJ extraordinaire and keeper of the funk.” There are some album exclusives (Freaks “Tweekers” and Border Community wonder boy James Holden’s track “Lump”). There are some forthcoming treats from Crosstown Rebels (Pier Bucci / Matt Tollfrey & Craig Sylvester). There are some huge dance floor moments with Trentemoller, Issakidis, and the massive Superpitcher remix of M83. And there are some real surprises including Ricardo Villalobos’ criminally overlooked mix of Thomas Dolby and even the The Stranglers. While Damian brings his party aesthetic across the globe this summer, this soundtrack will be one of the summer’s essential electronic must-haves. Damian Lazarus is
Taking our seats on the side of the grandstand of the Platte County Fairgrounds late in the afternoon, we were anxious to kick things off. The flag would not drop for another two hours though, and the sun would persist in heating things as much it could. By the time the water truck entered the field, most in our vicinity looked on longingly as it hosed down the dirt, wishing it were them. Power Wheels started the demolition derby, racing around crashing into each other until the bitter end: that is, until their battery died. 50+ Bone Stock series followed immediately after, with an older group of young'uns smashing into one another with much greater enthusiasm. All in this class were beat by a girl, in minivan with a flat tire. The fiery red head behind the wheel was "Bella," based on the chanting. She survived all others in this heated contest of grease and steel. A few more rounds followed this one, though we wandered off on other adventures. The first stop
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