The stellar line-up of musical talent at yesterday’s outdoor Barrio Viejo fundraiser demonstrates just how well liked and respected KXCI radio is, and rightly so. While the live music—which included Tom Wallbank, Silver Thread Trio, the wonderful Mariachi Aztlan de Pueblo High School, Sergio Mendoza and Salvador Duran, and Calexico (complete with a stage full of guest stars)—was outstanding, KXCI and the other organizers have a lot to learn about how to treat their supporters in a respectful manner.

Flags decorate the main stage at the Barrio Viejo Festival

The blame for difficulties faced by attendees possibly rests with co-presenters, the Rialto Theater—a fine venue to watch a band, but not exactly a place that you’d call user-friendly. One of the great pleasures of seeing concerts at the Rialto used to be their easygoing, no-nonsense re-entry policy. Since the Rialto only has a license for wine and beer, I used to enjoy stepping outside for a quick cocktail at Club Congress between bands, or if I didn’t care for a particular act. No longer. During recent visits to the Rialto I’ve been disappointed to see that they no longer allow re-entry, preferring to keep their customers crammed inside a crowded foyer, waiting on long lines for an unimpressive selection of drinks.

Yesterday’s Barrio Veijo concert unfortunately employed the same policy. Once you were in, you were in. At $20/$25 per ticket, the people who came out to support Tucson community radio, and see some legendary local acts, were obviously serious about wanting to help the station—$25 being rather steep for a Tucson concert. I’ve worked in bands, nightclubs, and theaters for over 25 years and the arguments that “It’s complicated” or “difficult” to allow re-entry is just so much B.S. The real reason they don’t allow re-entry is because promoters want to keep you locked up inside where you have to pay $2 for a small bottle of water. It’s all about squeezing more money out of trapped punters.

The excellent Mariachi Aztlan de Pueblo High School played on the "Side Stage" which wasn't actually a stage, but who's counting?

Those wanting to buy food had to wait on line twice; those wanting beer needed to wait on line three times! A rather dense policy required you to first get a wristband, wait on a second line to buy little pink $1 tickets, then go to a third line in order to trade your tickets for actual food and beverages. I was unoficially told that this policy was designed to “Stop the vendors ripping off the promoters.” I think a little more trust might be in order in that area.

The people selling the little pink tickets had no idea how much anything cost and were entirely unhelpful when asked for advice about how many tickets one might want to buy. Once we finally got our veggie burros and tacos, courtesy of master Mexican chef Martin and his Comida Chigona. it was excellent but then Martin’s food always is excellent, so no surprise there.

The charming Cushing Street Bar & Restaurant sits immediately next to the festival entrance, and it would have been nice if this elegant local business could have benefited from the hundreds of people walking around nearby, but the no re-entry policy meant that the bar at Cushing remained effectively empty, while scores of people stood only a few feet away (on the other side of the fence), waiting in interminable lines for $5 plastic cups of warm Budweiser.

Headliners Calexico and friends delivered a wonderfully diverse set on the main stage

No free seating was provided at the event, except for a few rickety iron tables in the food area, an they were not shaded. I saw a bouncer ordering three sweet-looking middle-aged women, who were quietly sitting on the hot tarmac, to “Get up, move, and don’t give me any attitude!” Exact quote. The KXCI benefit was, I assume, intended to be a family-friendly concert and there were certainly plenty of kids and parents there. Community radio enthusiasts who are ponying up $25 apiece to support a favorite local radio station really don’t need to be barked at by bouncers. It’s one thing if security has to deal with a raucous punk rock crowd, but come on, this was a community radio benefit. A little couresty goes a long way on a hot Saturday afternoon.

If you wanted to plunk down another $5 you could have the dubious pleasure of parking your backside on a hot aluminum bleacher near the stage. The lack of shade and seating caused one pregnant woman to faint from the heat; she was rescued by the staff at Cushing Street who sent cold water, salt, and fruit out to her.

Popular local silversmith Lisa Marie of Sirocco Design hangs out at Martin's during the festival

At the very end of the evening, as Calexico’s set was drawing to a close, I worked my way up near the front of the stage and met some friends who were sitting on the bleachers. The crowd had thinned somewhat and at least half the seats were empty. I’d been on my feet for several hours, so I sat down on one of the empty rows. A thuggish bouncer immediately pounced on me and said: “Get up, those seats are reserved.”

“Reserved for whom?” I asked. “The show’s nearly over. There’s nobody here.”

“Get up,” he yelled back. “Those seats are reserved.”

I was pretty fed up with appalling customer relations by that point, so I left soon after. With the last band playing its last few songs, and people heading home to the lovely sounds of Calexico, under a delightful Tucson sunset, it’s a shame that rude security and daft planning left the KXCI benefit with a sour aftertaste. Let’s hope they learn from their mistakes and do better next year. After all, the musicians onstage talked enthusiastically and passionately about friendship and community here in Tucson. I guess that message wasn’t heard by the organizers.

Photographs © by Geoffrey Notkin. All rights reserved. No reproduction without written permission.

I was, for many years, actively involved with the Burning Man arts and counter culture festival that takes over Nevada’s Black Rock Desert each year around the Labor Day weekend. I was lucky enough to make my first visit back in 1997 when it was still relatively small and you could actually walk around and see everything. I went on to be a founder member of the Burning Man New York local chapter, and returned to Burning Man in 1998 and 2000. After that I was done. In ’97 there were less than 10,000 attendees. That number has now swelled to 50,000 and bigger isn’t always better.

Burning Man 1998. Black Rock Desert, Nevada

Going to Burning Man is an extraordinary, life changing journey, but it finally got too vast and crowded for me. The art installations and theme camps began—at least in my experience—to be eclipsed by partiers, gawkers and all-night desert raves; the creative elements that are the heart of Burning Man were, to a degree, marginalized.

And now, sadly but I suppose inevitably, our annual All Souls Procession is facing similar hurdles. All Souls is our city’s most fantastic and dazzling event of the year. Read my earlier pieces for TC.com, “It All Started with All Souls” and “All Souls is Tucson’s Night of Nights,” and you will appreciate how much I adore this vibrant spectacle. However, success does come with a price.

Tucson silversmith Lisa Marie of Sirocco Design helps friends with their makeup before the 2009 All Souls Procession

Last night I attended my sixth consecutive All Souls parade, and I don’t just show up with a camera. I walk the walk. I also work on costumes and masks so I can make my own small visual contribution to the parade. Yesterday’s procession was staggering in its size. So many people marched, and there were so many floats and giant puppets that Fourth Avenue was nearly choked, and several times the parade came to a complete standstill. Sidewalks were packed with spectators all the way from University and Fourth to the loading docks across from Toole. And this is what I mean by the phrase “Burning Man Problem.” When an arts event is so exciting and intoxicating that it attracts an ever-growing number of participants and spectators, it faces the possibility of getting so big that it loses touch with the very thing that made it fabulous in the first place. When a unique, cutting-edge, local event grows to titanic proportions, is it possible to remain true to its original vision? I think it is, and I have a suggestion:

Local artists Jewels and Ismist with their spectacular 13-foot float honoring Shirley who passed away earlier this year

If you want to watch the parade, then watch the parade from the sidelines. If you want to be a participant, then really be a participant. A rough estimate—based on not very much but walking the length of the parade a few times, and prepared quickly in my somewhat addled brain—told me that at least one in four people walking with the procession were in ordinary house clothes and not bringing anything to it but their bodies. I fully appreciate that All Souls is not only an arts event, but also a spiritual event in which many mark the loss of loved ones during the previous year. As such, of course, it should be open to all. But—and this is a big but—many participants spend weeks or months building marvelous floats and designing elaborate costumes and masks. Out of respect for those who have given up time and money to make something beautiful or scary to bring to All Souls, I propose that marchers either dress up or stand aside. A spectacle like All Souls is only as good as its participants and I’d hate to see it populated by thousands of people shambling down Fourth Avenue in t-shirts and blue jeans. Really, what is the point of mystical parade in which people don’t wear something special?

Tucson fire troupe Flam Chen upped the ante with a particularly dazzling show during the 2009 All Souls finale

Thanks are due to the Many Mouths One Stomach volunteers who devote so much time and energy to making All Souls live, and to the Tucson Police Department, who once again managed the large and excitable crowd with courtesy and patience. And finally, it is important to remember that you live in an arts-friendly community in which a giant flaming cauldron is hoisted into the air by a crane, over a crowd of thousands, on a Sunday night. I really cannot think of another city in the country that would even consider allowing such a wonderful thing (San Francisco banned the original Burning Man from Baker Beach because it got too big).

All Souls is still the greatest, but let’s not lose sight of what makes it great. See you in front of Epic Cafe next year, and please, think about wearing a costume.

Photographs © by Geoffrey Notkin. All rights reserved. No reproduction without written permission.