Music promoter and KRAK Radio hostess, Hope Faydz, may be at the top of Flubug’s growing list of “sad folk.” The outspoken feminist, who bankrolled this weekend’s Sad Folk Fest at The Ditch reportedly received an invoice from totaling $31,284.00 before taxes. The charges, stemming from last night’s fiasco, included fees from various county, police and emergency personnel as well as utility workers who had to restore power to an exit sign and various nightclub personnel.
- Ditch Security: 23 people ejected ($230.00)
- 210 people admitted ($210.00)
- Nailgun Check (15 nailguns at $20ea. + $200 gratuity for lost tickets)
- Use of Rope Line ($500.00)
- Hand Stamp Rental ($500.00)
- Down County EMT: 11 stomach pump rentals ($1100.00)
- 22 stomachs pumped ($3,300.00)
- 4 Ambulance Fees (round trip) ($3,200.00)
- 4 on-site Narcon injections ($3,200.00)
- Ditch Staffing fee ($1,900.00)
- Accounting Fee (10% of total)
- GEPCO: restoration of exit sign power ($2,200.00)
- Flubug Police: “Hands Off” policy retainer ($2,800.00)
- Bradshaw’s Pike Fire Department (3 false alarms) ($2,100ea)
- Bradshaw’s Pike Fire Department: RFD No Show ($700.00 Credit)
- Dickwadd Probation; Kiosk UA usage and users fees ($2600.00)
- Balto Casualty: Gwen vomit cleanup (see below) ($600.00)
I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if she had something to say about it on her blog.
As for the show? Well, reviews were mixed. Sonata was clearly spooked when a heckler tossed a Faust at the sound monitor. The ensuring sparks knocked out the exit light and half the speakers on the left wall. The melee also upstaged her performance, leaving Sonata to stutter through her opening number, “My Little Squirly Friend” and end amid jeers with “Don’t Drink From My Jug.” She left the stage in tears (which will no doubt ensure her inclusion in next year’s lineup).
Next up was Wren who managed to calm the crowd and prove to the world that she really is a consummate professional. Accompanied by Tim Bowman on musical saw (on loan from the CDC Boys) and Chad Peacock on fife and penny whistle (on loan from A Different Animal), Wren moved effortlessly through her debut CD and kept the crowd crying for nearly two hours. Her mournful howls, high-pitched screeches and poigant delivery had every lady in the house, even those smoking crack in the bathroom, sobbing for more. Her encore was an odd but stirring Bosa Nova treatment of “Leaky Dinghy” which prompted samba lines outside restrooms and injuries to wasted patrons who failed to navigate the beer-soaked floor.
Gwen, of course, received top billing for the Festival and took the stage around 1am. Yet despite the fact she was booked as the headline act she was a huge disappointment. Her recently penned lyrics, written by hex candlelight, were scrawled on a cardboard box taped to the mike. When the box was grabbed by a blithering idiot, it became clear that Gwen had never bothered to memorize them. In desperation she began humming the tunes to her latest songs, but the crestfallen audience, still reeling from Wren’s Bosa Nova, became restless. Another Faust was thrown, this one missing Gwen by mere inches. Cries rang out throughout the club, “Wren! Wren! Wren! Wren!” Unable to finish her set, and unable to deal with the fact that her star had fallen to a bright young talent, Gwen left the stage after the bouts of projectile vomiting and humming just four songs.
Sad Folk indeed.