The last place that I thought I would feel like a Rock Star was Forget-Me-Not Farm in Vermont.

by Chris Thibdeau

When the band pulled up to the farm in my mini-van Saturday afternoon, July 14th, 2007, we all breathed a collective sigh of relief. At least, Erin, Patrick, Jesse, and Ivan did – I was still asleep. To me, the four hour car ride had been amazingly short. Basically, when we left New York City, I immediately fell asleep . . . and the next thing I knew, we were in Vermont! It's this uncanny ability I have to sleep anywhere and at any time for almost an indefinite period. The down side is that I am also left vulnerable to unflattering pictures and practical jokes. (Jesse . . . I will have those pictures please and next time you're asleep I'll put gum in your mouth . . .)

Pulling up to a parking area, we were immediately greeted by the friendly staff of Solarfest. Solarfest is a weekend festival that celebrates the power of renewable energy, the arts, and community action to change the world. Breathing in the fresh air (slightly touched with the scent of manure) and looking out the open farm land, I felt that this was the perfect place for such an event.

As we unloaded our equipment, I saw that there were two barns. One had vendors and shops set up, and the other had been converted into a stage for the bands. In the background were several lines of tents that were set up for food vendors and other sellers of trinkets and miscellaneous items such as beaded jewelry, pro-green paraphernalia, and goodies that one might find at a clean energy function. The cool catch about this whole shindig was that it was completely, 100%, bonafide powered by solar energy. All the lights, stage sound systems, even the water pumps – everything was run by the sun.

After dropping off Ivan's drum set and our electric gear to the stage/barn, we headed to a house tucked further away from the goings on. This is where we would be spending the night. The residents, a nice family, (the head of household named "Melody") generously offered to have us stay in their home for the weekend. Melody showed us to our rooms, which were cozy, clean, and made us feel right at home.

Walking to the vendors, anxious to explore the fair grounds, we saw a sign that read, "Please do not touch the horses" This of course, caused Erin to want to run to the animal stalls and . . . touch the horses. Instead, we directed her to the gardens in front of the house. Yay, pretty flowers!

We spent the day walking around the tent areas and rehearsing for our gig. We all took cat naps, and I walked around the event two or three times looking for my family, as they were visiting from Connecticut. No such luck . . . and cell phone service was spotty so I couldn't get a hold of them. By that time, it was nearing zero hour, so we quickly changed clothes and headed towards the stage for a quick bite to eat before our show.

I hate eating before a performance. I usually feel stuffed and honestly . . . kinda gassy. I ate light – two pieces of chicken, a plateful of shrimp jambalaya, veggies and fruit, fresh bread with hummus . . . well, I tried to eat light. But when delicious home cooked food is offered and you're a starving musician . . . performance or no, you can't just eat a salad! Just before our sound check, I finally ran into my family. They settled down with some lawn chairs and a few blankets on the grass and managed to get a good spot to the side of the stage.

The performance before us was a group called the Ember Swift Band. They were impressive and sounded great! The lead singer, Ember Swift, was very friendly and had a great feel with the audience. The bass player, Lyndell Montgomery, was incredibly talented and the band as a whole was fun to listen to.

As our time for sound check grew closer, we got our cellos and equipment ready. This show would be both acoustic and electric, and the sound check was only a fifteen minute time slot before our performance began. The band before us finished their act and packed up their gear, wishing us luck. Erin, Patrick, Ivan, and I were ushered on stage. We were directed by sound staff, lighting technicians, and stage hands, and before I knew it, our sound check was over and we were walking on to applause.

The acoustic set went very well. We ended with one of our favorite pieces, Solid Ground, which I felt was also a great transition to our electric set. We went backstage and put on our electric gear, and prepared to rock the audience with full amplified cellos and drum set.

At the start of the first piece in our second set, I have a wicked distortion solo. I stood up in front of the stage and laid down the line. Seemingly out of nowhere, younger kids in their teens started dancing in front of the stage. Erin, Ivan, and Pat quickly joined in with me, and soon the stage was rocking with lights, solo riffs, drum licks, and booming bass from my end. The group of dancers in front of us grew in size as our intensity increased.

The rest of the night is a crazy blur. I know that by the second or third song, a mosh pit had formed. The sun had started to set, and when the sky was completely dark, Solarfest let loose with an incredible light show. Projectors behind us spun eclectic shapes and forms in brilliant yellows and oranges. Stage lights behind, in front, above, and on our sides shot hues of blue, red, and purple. Pat was at once blazing in a turquoise glow while Erin shone in an eerie, white light that radiated outward. The dancers had now grown into a crowd at least thirty feet deep, moshing and jumping up in down in time to the deep, churning pulse of the bass drum. Occasional spot lights would pan across the crowd, fueling us with a wild excitement - we were playing for a live, teeming, screaming mass of listeners. If this weren't enough to make me feel like a rock star, something even crazier happened. During one of our covers, Pat stood center stage and began ripping out an electric, distorted solo. Immediately, a group of kids stopped dancing and started literally bowing down to him, chanting things such as, "We are not worthy!" "Yes! Yes!"

When the last piece ended with a powerful unison hit from the whole band, the audience went nuts. We all lined up front stage for our usual classical bow, acknowledging the audience and thanking them for listening to us. The mosh pit dancers had a different idea of how we should thank them, trying to climb on stage and reaching out for hand shakes and high-fives. Slightly overwhelmed, I stretched away from the audience with my cello in one arm and into the crowd with my other, reaching out to as many people as I could before retreating with everyone back stage.

Pat was in awe. "Did you see that, guys?" Erin and Ivan were all smiles. I could hear the audience chanting, "One more song! One more song! ONE MORE SONG!" The stage hand listened into her radio.

"Hey, uh . . . this has never happened before, you should go out and play, they want you." I grabbed Pat by the arm, as he had started packing up his cello.

"Let's go, let's go!" I walked on stage, hoping that everyone would follow.

The crowd was thunderous; a sea of applause and screaming that was unlike any performance I had ever been a part of. Pat, Erin, Ivan and I took our seats, and played our encore. The piece flew by, and at the end, sweat dripping, smiling through exhaustion driven away by our adrenaline, we hit our last chord for the night. At that moment, looking out from the stage, seeing the number of people being affected by our music, I felt like more than a rock star – I felt like a performer finding ultimate fulfillment. I know I will look back on that night and remember it well, and I know that the humble barn in Forget-Me-Not Farm of Vermont is now a place of memory for other people, too.