And so we arrive home safe...not particularly rested nor clean, as one would expect from a working vacation, but certainly refreshed in the soul. Tamworth, 2014, as a festival, has come and gone.
This festival was, for some reason, different for me. I've traced it back to the second day, when a most unexpected reminder of the briefness of life came from an old friend half way around the world...
"Keep stuck in it, then, friend. For many of us, (performing) is just a memory...."
And with those words, this festival came alive. All up, I've done 15 trips up the New England Highway (please feel free to insert the Adam Brand scoops, those of you who know the song)...some as short as 2 gigs, some as long as 15. Some with family, some with a wife, some with lovers and one alone. And all of them have marked a reconnection with music and creativity, and with my musical family.
In so many ways, this was the most enjoyable festival I have yet to experience. I had enough gigs, with incredible musicians: Redd Volkheart, Alan Tomkins, Dave Roberts...and a slough of guest artists to satisfy any musical itch (Rusty and Stuie, naming two of my all time favourites). I had a couple of extra gig experiences with Bryen Willems and Glenn Skarratt (et al) where we proved that it was still fun to play for the sake of playing. And I had the joy of showing more of a musicians view of Tamworth to Dimity, and experiencing it through her eyes.
But what this festival really excelled at was a sense of family, through my first home stay with Rae and Bill Hunt, along with their sons Ben and Jamie and their friends, Jilly and Graham. Long term Tamworth locals, the Hunts threw open their home and welcomed me, ensuring that I was both included and welcomed into their family.
And that's what Tamworth, ultimately, is all about. Not American or Australian music. Not about a definition of "Country" or whether the festival itself is thriving or not. But about returning, year after year, to the spring which revitalises us, reunites us, not as musicians or artists, but as family. And the reminder that none of us know which Tamworth will be our last.
So to all of the dancers, the bar staff, the bouncers, the guy who didn't steal my keyboard when I left it unattended in West Tamworth Leagues Club, the fans, the musos...even the few grumpy old guys who complained that we were too loud and didn't play enough George Jones....thank you. For making my festival. And reminding me about what is truly important.
God willing (or whatever deity you may profess to believe in), I look forward to my next Tamworth and doing it all over again.