For the last five years Long Beach Funk Fest has been such a consistent standout in the Summer And Music series (SAM) that this year it ventured away from downtown Long Beach proper and out on its own and into the welcoming arms of the corporation that operates the Queen Mary.
On Labor Day the needle dropped on the Sixth Annual Long Beach Funk Fest. How’d they do? Let me break it down for you, sugar.
1. Website. If you wanted to get a good sense of Funk Fest going in, you were pretty much out of luck. The links to Festival Guide/Directions and Vendors never worked, and neither the Website nor the Facebook event clarified what could and couldn’t be brought inside. “Can’t seem to find a FAQ on what items are allowed into this event anywhere,” wrote someone on Facebook event page. “Chairs? Blankets? Umbrellas? Coolers? Dogs? Does anyone know where I can find this info?” No official reply ever came.
2. Entry. If first impressions are important, the Queen Mary folks did not start patrons on the good foot, as it would have taken quite a bit of creativity to design a less efficient entry. At the front gate patrons were greeted with three lines leading up to a security check (see #3). The line to the left (call it A) was rather long, while the lines in the middle and to the right (B and C, respectively) were usually devoid of people, save for employees idly waiting to be put to some purpose. No signage indicated the difference between the lines. Finally, a young man not especially well chosen to do so attempted to communicate that A was for men (to be searched by men), B for women (to be searched by women), and C was for VIPs (to be searched by VIPs?). Women and men who arrived together were actively disallowed from queuing in A together, with women shuffled off into the much shorter B, then forced to wait inside for the 10-15 minutes it often took for their male companions to get inside. One male visitor from Australia, eyeballing the unpeopled B as he sweltered in A (for the shade issue, see #5), wondered aloud whether the question of splitting up the searches by gender ought to be about whether the person being searched had a preference (and since he didn’t, why couldn’t he go to B). I was wondering whether C might be opened up to a couple of Aers at a time when no VIPs were in sight. I don’t know what the other men were wondering, but it was fairly evident how they were feeling.
3. Search. As a civil libertarian, I’m not crazy about searches. But when there’s a legitimate safety concern, I get it. To be sure, I did not get what was going on at Funk Fest. After the frustration of the entry lines, patrons were required to empty their pockets and subjected to a thorough pat-down of their persons and having whatever bags or backpacks explored in a manner more consistent with what one experiences at Customs than at concerts. Not all searches were equally invasive, but some patrons even had their wallets searched. Not sure what weapon was being looked for there. Among the items the searchers wouldn’t let people bring in was water (see #6). “I will NEVER come to another funk fest, again,” wrote one attendee the day after. “Who heard of no chairs or water at an outdoor concert. Violating people’s privacy. Hell TSA doesn’t even go through your wallet and makeup bag. Not to mention pat downs! WTH!!!! #angryconcertgoer #kissmyass.” The Hollywood Bowl manages to get people inside with picnic baskets and without anyone’s feeling violated. Maybe that’s an organization worth talking to between now and next summer?
4. Aesthetic. “This is like the Renn Faire for funk,” remarked my companion not long after we were inside. A better comparison would have been to the Orange County Fair, except on a drastically diminished scale. A few crafts booths, a terribly small selection of food and beverage vendors, and such a thrust of corporate sponsorship that if Coca-Cola had a hint of green in its color scheme, its advertising presence would have combined with Heineken’s as a sort of yin-yang. Clearly, the organic communal authenticity of previous Funk Fests had been bled away in favor of prefabricating the funk.
5. Shade. Originally we had planned arriving not long after the fest’s noontime beginning. Thankfully, we didn’t show up until around 3, because a fairly brutal sun was shining down on a Queen Mary Events Park that was nearly devoid of shade. For reasons passing understanding, aside from a giant inflatable Heineken can off to the left and a giant inflatable Heineken gazebo for VIPs to the right, event organizers had decided against erecting any tarps or E-Z Ups to protect us from sunshine that wasn’t exactly a surprise to weather forecasters. Thus were many of the people milling about vendor trucks not waiting for food but hiding from the heat. The lovely dance floor off to the left might have had many people grooving to what the DJ was laying down had it been in the shade. As it was, on occasion two or three people would hit the floor but last no more than 10 minutes. You could tell it was going to be lovely as the sun set, but just then it wasn’t much fun standing there exposed, and I beelined for the shady area behind the big can. Was I just poo-pooing corporate sponsorship?
6. Water. When attending Funk Fests of yore, I did what I do pretty much whenever I go: bring my purple canteen full of water to ensure that my hydration needs are met. But this year not only was that impossible, but, as a Facebook post from Funk Fest organizers made clear (at least if you could find it), even sealed water bottles would not be allowed inside. And while empty containers were permitted, organizers did not see fit to set up a water-refilling station. Therefore, the only option for acquiring dihydrogen monoxide was to stand in one of the food vendors’ lines either to have your canteen filled or to spend $2.50 to $3 on a 16 oz. bottle. The net result was longer food lines than necessary and needless plastic waste—the latter pretty much giving the lie to the Website’s claim that this year’s Funk Fest was a “green-driven festival, involving green sponsors and educating in ways to live with less impact on our environment.” What it did mean was more money for the event, and that’s what the funk is about, right? Perhaps there’s a special irony here, considering that all previous iterations of Funk Fests were free, while this one cost $15 to $20 (VIP tix $75).
7. Vibe. Funk Fest draws a wide enough demographic that it seemed like there might be a little tension—which is not to say actual trouble—between those whose relation to the funk comes from a gentler place and those who come from a harder-edged milieu. But ultimately that tension never really materialized, resulting in a rather easygoing vibe that was good for everyone. That includes children, of whom there were a few, running about and screaming and enjoying themselves so thoroughly that you wished more were there to get in on the fun(k).
8. Police. There was a visible police presence, though nothing excessive. There wasn’t much for them to do, and they didn’t busy themselves looking to create something.
9. Location. There are two sides to this coin. Heads says this was a good use of the Queen Mary Events Park, whose grass was great for dancing or lying around, and whose trees provided effective shade once the sun descended to an angle that endowed them with long shadows. And that’s to say nothing of the natural advantages of being by the seaside. But tails points to what a missed opportunity it was to segregate a great event out of a city center and into a closed-off area, making it less about the community and more about a single corporation pulling the strings. Not to mention how the move deprived downtown businesses of what surely would have been a nice infusion of cash. Let’s see, would I rather drink Beachwood BBQ’s beer and see them reap the rewards, or give to and get Heineken? Hmmm.
10. Music. The main draw was, of course, George Clinton and Parliament Funkadelic, who did it right (even if the wildest days of P-Funk are long past). But all those acts with whom most patrons were unfamiliar held it down all day. That includes the Sea Funk Brass Band, who created some of the fest’s most special moments by walking through the crowd between main acts until finding a location that felt fine, then drawing people in with some solid funk jams with a Dixieland flair. The DJs, too, were on point. The main acts might have been blasted too loudly—something to be considered seriously if you truly want this to be a kid-friendly event—and the sound engineers wrestled with some feedback problems now and again, but I doubt anyone walked away unsatisfied with the funk itself.
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Unfortunately, the overall impression left by the Long Beach Funk Festival was that this year was a step backward for a lovely Long Beach tradition. “Show management and security sucked!” says a message left on Facebook for the organizers to ponder. “They put a damper on the whole festival. They wouldn’t allow lawn chairs! It was a 9 hour show with very few places to sit. Many people had their cigarettes confiscated at the door even though nothing said you couldn’t have them. The food sucked too. The music was great but I won’t go back next year. Too much oppression.”
No-one I surveyed at the festival didn’t voice similar gripes. And while I suspect many of us will be back next year, we’ll be hoping that either Funk Fest returns to its previous location and form, or that the Queen Mary peeps go back to the drawing board. Because while the funk made us shake our asses, just about everything else made us shake our heads. Peace.