For years, the Belknap Fall Festival has been a staple Louisville tradition, drawing thousands of visitors a day. In its two day run each October, the festival gathers both neighbors and new visitors, like myself.
With large city events such as this one, many news sites and coverage forms find a story, a unique angle even though everyone walked the same festival streets, heard the same music.
Before Saturday, I had never been to the festival, so I wanted to have an idea of what I should look for, a lens I could gaze through as I observed the crowds of mingling couples, giggling children and swaying patrons.
In an intense brainstorming session with a friend, I decided that I would experience the Fall Fest and neighborhood life at night, a view rarely caught by cameras in our city.
Just as night and day are incredibly different times, they are also sanctuaries for different groups of people. The daytime piques the interests of families and groups with smaller kids, the light providing parents more visibility and fewer meltdowns between the hours of 6 to 7 p.m. on Friday and 11 a.m. to 5 p.m. the next day. After these hours, however, younger patrons go home, their presence replaced with older friend groups — both teens and adults.
The sun faded behind the clouds, as did the seventh hour, and stage lights clicked on. Bands had been performing throughout the day, yet the sets changed with the onset of night, and the cover band Mary Mary took the stage.
I was a little unsure that this festival was still happening by the time I pulled up at about 8:20 pm on Saturday night, the neighborhood darkened by clouds and shadow, hiding the markers and colorful signs one would typically observe in the daytime. The request to turn around and head home was on the tip of my tongue, only halted by the gradual bass thumping through the pavement as we rolled closer to the GPS’s displayed destination.
Just as thunder signals the presence of lightning, loud rhythmic beats clued into the festival’s existence just seconds before various white tents appeared, bathed in swaths of shadow and stage lights.
With the dark settled over the area, various vendor booths that had been selling at the festival earlier in the day were mostly absent, the only remaining stands being those of the food vendors hired for the event.
It was obvious upon entering the festivities that the withstanding crowd had stuck around for three things: good food, good music and a sense of community.
The stage stood across from the Derby City Pizza Co. on the corner of Dundee Road in the Belknap Neighborhood, and provided a spot from which to view the show without having to stand the entire duration or be mixed within the somewhat cramped crowd. This setting provided a warm feeling of community, but also made it possible for those with health needs and requirements to be a part of the action, which is an aspect I automatically noticed and respected.
The stage drew my attention once again where the Mary Mary continued to play a sped up rendition of “Lips of an Angel” by Hinder, a grunge rock band from the 2000s.
I had decided to attend the festival with my dad, the music nerd of the family, and as soon as the song started, he was video-taping on his iPhone and chanting the lyrics, full of joy. My first instinct was to stick next to him, yet my instincts screamed at me to move throughout the space, and I only had limited time as shutdown was at 10 and we were at the very back of the crowd, nearly touching the guys that were running the sound.
Once the song ended, I picked up my feet and pushed my way to the front. I originally ventured further into the throngs of bodies to get more photos of the performers, but my eyes ended up settling on a group of girls, the oldest probably not more than 12, who were more into the music than most of the adult audience members I´d seen further back. They knew every song, singing along to every word, as the setlist dwindled.
My surprise came less from the fact that they were enjoying the tunes, and more that they were still in good spirits and happy as it was nearing nine p.m.. They weren’t the only ones, either — A quick scan made it obvious that the first few rows of the crowd were made up of smaller kids.
A few songs passed, and I found myself taking the occasional photo, writing the occasional note, but I was lost to the vibes and music more than anything. That is, until the lead singer of the band, Mary Beth Vanmeter, began pulling kids on stage from the audience. There were roughly 10 of them — some even sporting Mary Mary merch, with blue and black tee-shirts bearing the band name in the iconic font.
Lead guitarist Billy Lease began the first few notes of “What’s Up?” by 90’s rock band 4 Non Blondes, and the crowd — kids included — went wild. Vanmeter sang the first few verses of the song, but as soon as the tune reached its iconic lines, the kids took the mic. Down the line, the kids sang the songs, big smiles on their faces as they showed off to the crowd. As the performance continued, parents and relatives filled in the spots up front to record the wholesome moment before them.
The song closed out, and each kid introduced themselves to the crowd, parents and friends clapping for each as they took their well-deserved bow. Once the kids left the stage, the energy died down a bit, but it was by no means dead.
That was the thing about this festival, you got a different experience regardless of the time in which you took in the sights, but I think my favorite part has to be Belknap at Night.
