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If Dar Williams defines roots music, count me as a fan (with photo gallery)

Rob Thomas  —  8/14/2008 1:27 pm

The Madison Roots Festival ran for nine hours at Willow Island at the Alliant Energy Center on Saturday, Aug. 2. And after nine hours, nobody came away with a better sense of what the heck roots music was.

Based on the mix of national and local talent that took over the festival's two stages, roots music is acoustic, electric, folky, funky, Americana, world music, neo-feminist, testosterone-charged, thrilling, snoozy. Maybe the genre shouldn't be defined by a sound or a style so much as a tempo, a mellow but upbeat pace; a Frappuccino buzz rather than an espresso high.

Of course, such an easy categorization does an injustice to a truly wonderful artist like singer-songwriter Dar Williams, whose late-afternoon solo acoustic set fit snugly into the vibe of the festival but with a substance and a charm that transcended most of the other acts.

She seems genetically incapable of writing a run-of-the-mill song; every one she played, from fan favorites like "As Cool As I Am" and "The Babysitter's Here," to new songs off her forthcoming "Promised Land" CD, were heartfelt and sweetly wry.

She has a gorgeous voice, but rather than grandstand her chops, she uses it to inhabit her songs, like the excited stutter she gives to the young-girl narrator of "Babysitter." Her between-song patter was as charming as ever, commenting on her new "rough, photojournalistic" shirt ("I feel like I should be down by the lake taking pictures of hippos.")

And she's a good sport. Earlier in the day, Williams took a turn helping out the "people-powered" second stage at the festival, which was powered entirely by energy generated by 12 to 15 stationary bike riders.

"They told me I offset my flight and my ride and the sheets on my hotel bed," she told the crowd. "And I offset the muffin I had at the Farmers' Market."

The biker-powered stage was a neat idea, and the audience cheered on the sweaty riders as they pumped away a few feet from the side of the stage. Todd and Erin Swenson of Waunakee signed up to volunteer as bikers through the radio station WMMM-FM/105.5, the festival's main sponsor. After his 45-minute workout, Todd Swenson looked exhausted but elated.

"I am not a biker," he admitted. "I'm a little worried about how my legs are going to feel in the morning. I'm going to do it next year. I'll just prep a little bit before next time."

If you did volunteer to provide power for a second-stage set, the ideal band to be riding for would have been the Clyde Stubblefield Show, a tight, high-energy revue featuring the legendary funk drummer at the helm.

The group is called a "show" for a reason, as it's less a covers band than a three-ring extravaganza featuring three lead singers performing an all-killer, no-filler set of crowd-pleasing covers, from "Sitting By the Dock of the Bay" (with Clyde on lead vocals) to the Commodores' "Brick House."

If the show didn't have you swaying and dancing, someone may have needed to hold a mirror under your nose to make sure you were still breathing.

Tristan Prettyman next played the main stage, and while the surfer-turned-model-turned-singer is certainly accomplished, her breezy midtempo tunes just seem to evaporate in the summer sun. She's like Jack Johnson without the hooks, and her set didn't hold much interest.

The highlight of the day for many was a scorching hour-long set from Aussie rockers the John Butler Trio. Butler's lyrics may be completely weightless, but he can play a mean guitar, from lacerating solos to rollicking acoustic lines.

Although a sort of reggae-flavored acoustic rock seems to be Butler's staple, the highlight of the set was a turbulent, extended instrumental called "Ocean" that gave the trio room to really stretch out. If you've only heard the single "Better Than" 900 times on the radio, you don't quite know the extent of Butler's appeal.

Headliners G. Love and Special Sauce are sort of like that college roommate you run into from time to time who is still exactly like they were in college. They're fun for a little while, but eventually you kind of wonder if they're ever going to move on. For G. Love, the hip-hop inflected white-boy blues thing is still going very strong, which is enjoyable for three or four songs.

But for a full 90 minutes (and on the heels of Butler's far more satisfying set), G. Love's schtick started to wear awfully thin. Some roots that need a little pruning back.

Rob Thomas  —  8/14/2008 1:27 pm