Burning Man 2017:
Neighborhood Stroll and
Marching Band March-Off
Part 1 here.
My little neighborhood of Black Rock City is my haven of peace and familiarity, dearer to me than the amazing and inspiring open playa with its massive interactive art pieces and dreamlike quality. I tend to make friends among my neighbors during the pre-event setup, and some of those connections end up being the most rewarding.
It sounds like I'm exaggerating, but no.
My fourth year, I remember my across-the-street neighbors, Moose and Bruce, from Texas stayed in their camp the whole week, as far as I could tell. They just got drunk and pranked passers-by with the old wallet-on-a-string trick. I couldn't believe they would pay all that money just to hang out in camp, sometimes watching the fires over the city from on top of their RV.
But now I get it. It is just as valid to stay in camp and set up an experience for others to come in and enjoy. My experience now, as contrasted to my earlier years, is about service, as opposed to receiving. I have no doubt received gifts of incalculable value in my years at the event. At some point, my cup did runneth over, and I had to spill my own gifts back into the community which had given me so much.
So now, if I get out of my camp to see some art on the playa, a few neighboring camps, I count myself lucky.
It sounds like I'm exaggerating, but no.
My fourth year, I remember my across-the-street neighbors, Moose and Bruce, from Texas stayed in their camp the whole week, as far as I could tell. They just got drunk and pranked passers-by with the old wallet-on-a-string trick. I couldn't believe they would pay all that money just to hang out in camp, sometimes watching the fires over the city from on top of their RV.
But now I get it. It is just as valid to stay in camp and set up an experience for others to come in and enjoy. My experience now, as contrasted to my earlier years, is about service, as opposed to receiving. I have no doubt received gifts of incalculable value in my years at the event. At some point, my cup did runneth over, and I had to spill my own gifts back into the community which had given me so much.
So now, if I get out of my camp to see some art on the playa, a few neighboring camps, I count myself lucky.
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| \Monday, post-burn: taking a break during camp take-down to grab some iced coffee from my neighbor. Stripes abound. |
A sunset stroll at Burning Man 2017.
My Laughter Yoga class commences at 5:00 every evening, which anchors me to my camp at that time, barring some extreme emergency.
So, about 6:00, I have time to wander out of my camp and get some good pictures of my neighborhood in the waning sunlight.
I have very little knowledge of what these camps hold, other than what is obvious. Any one of them could be the very paradise that any particular Burning Man attendee may seek.
The Burning Man Marching Band, aka the Burning Band, has been marching around the playa playing Dixieland classics for almost the entire history of Burning Man. There are no auditions or requirements for participation; you just grab an instrument and march along. In this tradition, other bands have emerged on the Burning Man stage. And for the last several years, they have competed in the Center Camp Cafe's central performance area, on Thursday night. Hosted by Burning Man mini-celeb, artist Stephen Ra$pa, this event is raucous and wild.
There were four bands this year. The highlight was Axon, a new contender. They were an octet, playing gypsy klesmer music. Klesmer is Yiddish jazz. Axon was amazing, and were certainly the best band as far as the tightness of their performance. The quieter instruments were electrified, with amps mounted on backpacks, lit up to spell out "Axon."
Gamelan X is a perennial favorite, who I believe won last year. As everyone knows, a gamelan is an Eastern instrument, consisting of many brass bells and gongs, played by a large group. Gamelan X is this, but incorporating a Western sound, with a guy on drum kit, and with choreography that tells a story in pantomime. Their sound is otherworldly, but still somehow familiar. I always enjoy their performances, but they might have been a bit short-handed this time around. I didn't see their giant bell which has to be wheeled out on a cart. Regardless, they played well, pleasing the crowd.
Finally, the Burning Band played their folk standards, like "Little Brown Jug." They had a massive group, probably around eighty people. They sing as well as play. Some have matching uniforms, some not. There is no conductor, and everyone is pretty much doing their own thing. A few furries and a mime provided extra hype. They ended up taking the prize, based on their enthusiasm, and respect for their long commitment to the art.
A fourth marching band was more forgettable, and I hate to leave them unmentioned, though I took no pictures of them. They were chaotic and abrasive, using sex appeal and innuendo as their main attraction. Their performances made it seem a little like they were playing a prank on the audience. Their claim to being a marching band was a bit frail, but who am I to judge? If anything, it inspires me to try to create my own unique flavor of traveling musical act.
Back home to Pepperland. Here, the back of the camp, a great sunset and my camp mate, Craig, who took the shots of me by my dome.
Some more of my campmates on Sunday, midway through the camp tear-down.
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| Big Daddy, Twinsaboy, Gerflash |
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| Nostrildamus, Monica, Russell |
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| Craig and Ronit |
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| Nostrildamus and Sgt Pepper |
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| Fred, aka Twinsaboy |
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| Showing some leg |
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| Me, scruffy and somber, at some burn or other. |
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| Something burning. Does it really matter what? |
