11:30 in the morning is the best possible time to arrive at the blues festival--not only did the temperature hover at a manageable seventy degrees, but the grounds were almost empty.  I was able to stroll up to the stages without impediment.  Seating was not a problem, and I could dance with the reckless velocity of a whirling dervish without smacking into anyone.  Not many people were doing this so early in the day.  The crowd smiled and nodded sleepily at the Keith Frank and Soileau Zydeco Band when I arrived at the Front Porch stage. The band is largely a family affair, consisting of several members of the Frank clan--including Keith's precocious and lovely adolescent daughter, Julia. Julia danced throughout most of the songs, stepping up to the microphone to sing a stirring rendition of "If You Should Lose Me, You Lose a Good Thing."  Keith alternated his playing between two accordions and the electric guitar.  The music was straghtforward, southwest Louisiana zydeco.  One of the band members sported a cool washboard vest--he gave one of the best solo performances of the day, eventually leaping off the stage and performing on the grass, strumming his vest with the energy of a man possessed.

The skies were still ominous, and forty-mile-per-hour gusts kept everyone on their toes.  At one point, the sky opened up, and sheets of rain began to fall, scattering the crowd. Some of the more prepared folks reached into packs and pulled out pieces of plastic and umbrellas; the rest of us hovered among the trees.  I found myself in a moving cluster of folks that migrated into the Route 66 Roadhouse, a live conversation venue.  A stately African-American man sat at a large table, surrounded by a variety of handmade instruments.  I soon discovered that his name was Charles Wsir Johnson, and he was on a mission to explain to a bunch of listless, confused middle-aged white people how to do a call-and-response routine.  Most of the people seemed to have come in simply to get out of the rain, and they kept botching the call and response horribly.  Charles began to get very frustrated, urging them repeatedly to show some spunk and raise their voices. He showed us some of the fascinating instruments, most of which he had made himself.  My favorite was the diddly bow, constructed from a board and one string--an instrument from which Bo Diddly took his name. Charles explained that most of the blues greats, including Muddy Waters, starting playing the diddly bow before they were able to afford a guitar. "When you had no guitar in the Delta," he explained simply, "you played what you had."

Eventually, the clouds parted, and I made my way to the Louisiana Bayou stage. Les Getrex and Creole Cookin' filled every inch of the tiny stage. There was a small horn section, including saxophone, trumpet and trombone, as well as guitar, bass, and drums.  Guitar player and vocalist Les Getrex was dressed in a fantastic white suit with gold shoes, and he was quite a showman.  He led the band through a variety of upbeat, New Orleans inspired tunes, as well as a few slower songs, like the Neville Brothers' "Tell It Like It Is."   The band did an especially poignant version of Louis Armstrong's "What a Wonderful World"--a song that always makes me cry shamelessly.

I mopped my face and wandered over to the Mississippi Juke Joint stage, where I was in for the biggest treat of my day--Afrissippi, a six-person band that combines the sound of delta blues with a jam band sensibility, infused with a pulsating African rhythm. This northern Mississippi band consists of two righteous southern hippie dudes and three African guys, who combine effortlessly to create a huge, exciting sound.  Eric Deaton plays the electric guitar, Guelel Kumba provides vocals, and Kinny Kimbrough plays the drums.  The result is a danceable, yet melodic style that makes it extremely difficult to stay in your chair.  Just try to remain seated--your feet will twitch uncontrollably until you finally stand up.  Their CD, "Alliance" is available at the festival; I purchased it without hesitation.  It's great music for a party or an extended road trip, when you need something to break up the monotony of the long highway.

When I tried to leave the festival, I found a pile of beer tickets blowing down the sidewalk, so I had to return for a while.  The blues fest is halfway over, but two more days remain.  Don't miss Buckwheat Zydeco on Saturday, or BB King on Sunday, both on the mainstage.  Heck, just get down there and try to see everything--you won't regret it. Some of the best action is on the small stages.  Forget the paper schedule--the best way to see the festival is to just drift aimlessly, and see what grabs you.  Be sure to check the ground for discarded tickets.