Hardly Strictly Bluegrass San Francisco
PattI Smith - All Photos ©John Greenwood
Being a follower of all things punk rock since 1976-77 and baptized into the bleak-looking Mancunian landscape of the Thatcher-era UK as a teenager, I was somewhat bemused to find myself far removed from my humble beginnings, attending a festival entitled Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival in the sunny balms and rarified air of Golden Gate Park in San Francisco—right off the end of Haight Street, ground zero of the free love and hippy movement of the radical 1960s.
Photo ©John Greenwood
WHY?
The addition of Patti Smith and legendary fellow Mancunian poet Dr. John Cooper Clarke to the HSBGF lineup.
It’s FREE!
I’ve been living in the San Francisco Bay Area for over 30 years and never attended this event.
But with these two legends of the punk/new wave era on the bill, this event suddenly lit up my radar.
So, off my partner and I trot for a fun-filled couple of days of entertainment in this legendary old hippy stronghold.
The first hiccup? The organizers had stuck JCC on a stage they’d forgotten to mark on half of their festival maps. Several of the event staff we came across had no idea where it was either, as the stage wasn’t on their maps. Why is it always me this kind of shit happens to?
Photo ©John Greenwood
When we finally found it—the Horseshoe Hill Stage—you might have guessed it! It was up a bloody great hill in 105-degree heat. And, even more curiously, the transportation carts designed for easy access for crippled-up, long-in-the-tooth, handicapped coffin dodgers like me didn’t provide rides up to this one particular stage. MARVELOUS! Is this some conspiracy against British old codgers?
My partner and I arrived sweaty and bedraggled atop the so-called Heartbreak Hill Stage. JCC had his blistering motormouth in top gear as he rattled through Guest List, Hire Car, Hey Clarke, Get Back on Drugs, You Fat Fuck!, Beasley Street, and an updated 2024 version of Beasley entitled Beasley Boulevard, along with THUG and Are You The Business? He left the stage to rapturous applause with I Wanna Be Yours, all delivered in his trademark jovial form.
Halfway through the set, I did wonder what two Mancunians—probably a long way past our respective freezing cold thunderstorm primes—were doing on top of a hill in California in this kind of heat.
Dr. John Cooper Clarke - Photo ©John Greenwood
JCC, in his trademark tight-fitted suit, proudly flew the Mancunian flag high and struggled on like a trooper. Some of the less clued-in punters had arrived with young children, leaving The Bard of Salford to make some quick edits to his more colorfully worded numbers. It was interesting to see the great man's way of adapting his words on the fly. A few parents figured out this was not a family-friendly show and wisely toddled back down the hill with their kids—prompting JCC’s quick-fire wit: "It's probably for the best. It’s all downhill from here!"
Day TWO: People Have the Power?
Patti Smith - Photo ©John Greenwood
The second day of the festival, and the battle with the heat proved just as arduous while waiting for Patti Smith. But she was more than worth the discomfort and hardship of lying in the middle of a meadow in the summer heat all afternoon, despite various tantalizing distractions from support bands and festival goings-on.
As stage time neared, we took our spot at the rail. Patti ambled on in her customary "I'm not a rock star" laid-back style—surprisingly without the once-obligatory Lenny Kaye. His shoes, however, were exquisitely filled by Patti's son, Jackson Smith, who flourished in his lead role—not surprising, considering his father was Fred Sonic Smith of MC5 notoriety.
"Free Palestine!" screamed a very young girl next to us, holding a huge Free Palestine sign, determined to make Patti notice. In typical quick-thinking, shoot-from-the-hip fashion—the very thing we love her for—Patti quipped back, "Free everybody!" She nailed it, almost as if it had been rehearsed, which it obviously hadn’t.
Patti Smith - Photo ©John Greenwood
Her love for the audience is only matched by her apparent disdain for the photographers in the press pit. She unceremoniously advised them to "Do one!" the very second the third song was finished—with all the contempt and venom one might have for political canvassers knocking on your door. Gee, I was glad I wasn’t one of those guys today.
Any straggling die-hards in the press pit trying to ignore her command were quickly rounded up and escorted out by security. With them gone, Patti returned to all smiles, treating us to the rich tapestry of her artistic genius. Dancing Barefoot stood out, as always, as immaculate, and she even threw in an interesting cover of Nirvana’s Smells Like Teen Spirit.
She closed the show with a rousing rendition of People Have the Power—a message that, unfortunately, seemed to fall on deaf ears for some, considering what took place just a month later in November.
Patti Smith - Photo ©John Greenwood
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