Walking into West Beach on Friday afternoon, I was positive I wasn’t at a music festival. The ground, which was really just the beach itself, was not covered in trash, and everyone in swimsuit-clad bodies looked happy as opposed to stressed about what band they were going to see next.
The crowd took its time filtering through the sandy gate, and the absence of people early in the day gave us some quality time with the festival grounds. We walked from booth to booth, checking out hula-hoops and bracelets made from Coke cans as devout fans rocked out to local Santa Barbara band Loomis & the Lust. The band was a hometown hero with good original material, and when they covered MGMT’s “Kids,” the assortment of afternoon listeners all beamed.
When we wandered over to Oasis, the electronic stage, to see what was happening, we discovered the irony in its name. There was no music because the show hadn’t started yet, and it appeared to be because of the lack of viewers—we were the only people there. We waited through various repetitive sound checks before leaving to hula-hoop again.
Every cloud has a silver lining, and, though there was not a cloud in the sky, the shenanigans at the Oasis stage led us to The Aggrolites for their full set. They were awesome, playing funky jams with all their heart even though they had another show later that night. A fun little detail that speaks to the festival’s local, laid back nature is that this band’s guitarist sat at the same table as me to eat his dinner, and I was able to pay him a personal compliment.
After that, the next performance that blew my mind was Donavon Frankenreiter. He captured my heart just as he did that of the middle-aged woman singing along next to me. His set was mellow, and was soon after countered by Ozomatli’s high-energy reunion with Chali 2na. That performance was as unforgettable as it sounds, complete with line dancing and hurling instruments into the air.
The same band that had trouble attracting an audience at four was fairing well for itself at seven. Jupiter Rising with DJ Erik Lohr gave some mediocre electropop with lyrics about feeling the bass, and the spectators decked in neon were digging it. We weren’t too keen, so we went over to see some legends do their thing: Steel Pulse.
The sun had just gone down, and the crowd was funneling in rapidly. There was an air of excitement, and it hit me: Steel Pulse was the kick-off. I had spent my whole day hearing great music but not quite grasping the “festival” vibe, but I was sure about to. Lights came on, and when people paid attention to the announcer/wannabe comedian who spoke between bands (nice touch, West Beach!), we knew it was serious.
The band erupted with sounds of perfect reggae, and the crowd swayed just as they should. The whole crowd chanted the chorus of “Roller Skates” effectively summing up the festival’s cardinal message: “Life without music/I can’t go, no.”
Unfortunately I was unable to be there for Saturday and Sunday, but CraSH did capture all that went down on those days.
