The full moon casts an ominous glow over the thin veil of fog, snaking through a row of willow trees. A street lamp bathes a group of costumed revelers in an orange glow before they disappear once again down a lonely French Quarter street, their ghoulish laughter still audible in the darkness.  Two heads pop up from a dumpster, their painted faces permanently fixed in a leering skeleton’s smile. The pair offers a celebratory toast from their depleted wine bottle.

This particular event had the big names and indescribable performances to match any music festival this year, but it will not be remembered for such. It was evident that what made this an unforgettable time, was the pairing of the Halloween spirit and the irresistible mystique of sweet New Orleans – a match that made for many bizarre, macabre moments of joy.

And so, with much satisfaction, a recantation of the trip that was VOODOO Experience 2009:

Day One – Friday, October 30th

The car was silent as we drove into the heart of the Atchafalaya basin towards New Orleans. Heavy sheets of rain battered the windshield and kept visibility to a minimum. There were murmurs in the car as we stared ahead into a bleak wall of grey: “I hope I have dry socks tomorrow…” Half of us had just finished wringing out the rain from the damp, chilly weather at MONOLITH only a few months before.

We decided to stay in the Garden District in southwest New Orleans. Shout out to Terry the Professor for his notable hospitality. MeVersus greatly appreciates your generosity.

After a brief stint at local favorite Joey K’s, we arrived at the festival as intermittent fits of rain began to fall again. Predictably, our first encounter with oozing mud made its appearance as we struggled to the front gates. It would be a constant menace over the weekend.

There’s no doubt a better kickoff to a festival weekend exists outside the demonstrative trumpets signaling the start of the song “Genesis”, which instantly catalyzed the crowd into a screaming frenzy. As a whole, the Justice DJ set was solid but not as mind-boggling as expected, though it did produce what may be the most remarkable image of the festival. As the duo cued up “D-A-N-C-E”, the heaviest of the night’s downpours began. Picture a screaming, soaked mob caught in the pulsating strobe lights from the stage, a series of stop-motion images of rain and bodies frozen momentarily in fits of dancing.  Welcome to Voodoo.

Justice closed with a smoke filled finale and crowds plowed over to Eminem’s set and his obligatory entourage, D12. He kicked of the show with a gore filled intro video worth forgetting. This bloody greeting seemed to indicate we were in store for a Halloween show perfectly suited towards the apparent madness of Marshall Mathers, but the follow-up was sorely lacking. The show had all the expletives and bright lights of a large-scale hip-hop performance, but predicatively underwhelmed with little unique character. There were no qualms about leaving to begin exploring the nightlife.

Cue Taxi. Insert dose of music pouring out from bars and clubs. The evening’s standout spot was arguably Café Negril on Frenchmen St., whose reggae band kept ghosts and ghouls entrapped for hours as they haunted the dance floors.

An especially liberating moment came when the clock struck 2 AM – without skipping a beat, people danced as long as the music played. The people demanded more celebrating. 5AM never looked so sweet.

Day Two – October 31st

12:00PM – Pristine weather nudged us out of bed as we eagerly began exploring the Garden District area on foot. Our dread from the previous day’s weather dissipated in light of the cloudless skies and crisp temperature. Things were looking positive for VOODOO.

Magazine Street offers a wealth of boutiques and eclectic stores for the aimless pedestrian, and it was a joy to casually soak it all in. We had a wonderfully memorable brunch at a local favorite, Surrey’s. The meal (for godsakes you need to try their Banana Foster @#($*!#($) and the atmosphere was only outdone by the extremely adorable wait staff. Our waitress was the kindest vampire I’ve met yet.

MuteMath broke out into an extended jam session with drums and tambourines, finishing off their performance with a Monotonix-like antic when lead singer Paul Meany climbed on a tom drum held aloft by the audience and fell over into a crowd surf. Seen it Paul, step it up.

Festival constant Gogol Bordello came next, intoxicated with energy. His band ran through various instrument solos and had the crowd chanting refrains on every song. Gogol certainly has a tendency to get repetitive, particularly after you’ve seen his act a few times. Still, the traveling carnival he calls a band certainly seemed at home amongst the VOODOO experience.

Zombies everywhere. Festival organizers were trying to beat the world record for a single gathering of zombies that evening. The upcoming release of the video game Left 4 Dead 2, set in a New Orleans-esque city begs the question, will there be drunk partying zombies in the game also?

The festival offered a mix of street artists and other oddities to behold as part of the VOODOO culture. A party-bot roamed the grounds blasting electronic music (of course) and lights, as a shopping-cart-turned-metal-Trogdor belched smoke beside it. A small clearing of large floating balloons light up to a choreographed soundtrack playing over loudspeakers. Dishonorable mention goes to the over-sized pinata hanging from the trees, which proved to be nearly invincible till ladders, lights, and knives entered the arena.

Big Sam’s Funky Nation is highly recommended to anyone who likes the fusion of New Orleans brass and hip-hop; however, they won’t be challenging Galactic anytime soon. Chali 2na’s absence was felt this year.

Wolfmother put on a solid head-banging show, mixing classics like “Woman” with tracks from their new album Cosmic Egg. It doesn’t sound like losing two of the original founding members has set back the band too badly, and lead Andrew Stockdale is still a master of the rock “power stance.” It will be interesting to see if the band can avoid falling into the sophomore slump with Cosmic Egg.

MeVersus generally only describes the music and high-notes of the festival experience, but to ignore the more sinister aspects of these events would be ignorant. A particular event during the festival stands out as a recurring example. In the midst of a song, a young girl in her teens suddenly stops dancing, tilts momentarily, and drops to the floor in a wretched heap. Her friends rapidly pick her up from the ground and carry her off. She had the wide-eyed, oblivious look of a concussed nfl quarterback. Another group of youngsters eagerly fill the newly cleared void, laughing at her misfortune and at the chance to move ahead. The demographic was clearly younger than what MeVs has seen throughout the season. Albeit, scenes like this have occurred at all of the festivals we’ve attended. In the midst of the music and revelry, they can be quite sobering. She should read up on festival basics.

It seems appropriate to segue from there to the peculiar George Clinton and the Parliament Funkadelic. His band could only barely be called such. Each member dressed, moved, and acted as if on a different song (or planet), with members regularly leaving the stage mid-stanza, only to saunter back at some indiscriminate point later. Clinton didn’t show up until 20 minutes into his set. He didn’t speak for 20 minutes after that. When he did, it sounded like a disgruntled Chewbacca.  We couldn’t tell whether to be dancing or uncomfortable. Someone in our group whispered, “We’re watching these people slip into senility in real-time.”

With all of that in mind, George Clinton did bring the funk and the show was damn entertaining. Maybe he was helped by the aura of Halloween, maybe George Clinton and his crew of aged souls still have some 401 funk stowed away somewhere, but he managed to power his way through the show on will and bizarre shaman hand gestures alone. Funky – truly the only word for it.

We missed KISS that night. Texas (41) vs. Oklahoma St. (14) was a solid BCS victory. Regrets lingered after hearing several positive reviews of their performance, including a shout out from Wayne Coyne of The Flaming Lips.

The decision to leave the fest did allow us to eagerly hit the streets of NOLA once more, starting with the (in)famous Bourbon Street. We popped in for dinner at Tira Misu 55, and recommend it to anyone who’s looking for an affordable meal, a groove session, or both. Bourbon Street itself was a spectacle for all the wrong reasons: little more than a sardine packed street getting ridiculously drunk. We did a walk-through and, feeling satisfied, continued onwards to get more of the free music and character of Frenchmen Street.

This part of the journey was the unexpected treat. We strolled down a dimly lit street lined in distinctive French Creole architecture, as distant music wafted in on the breeze. Groups of costumed revelers would materialize out of the night under the watchful eye of the full moon. The trip seemed like stepping through a chapter of a Gothic novel. We submitted to the mood and picked up a bottle of wine for the remainder of the walk.

The evening was a never ending tour of live music, rooftops, narrow brick passageways, and dive bars. We doubt there is an instrument we didn’t hear at some point throughout the night.

Day Three – Sunday, November 1

Another gorgeous day began with a slow, relaxing wake up. Though thoughts of leaving NOLA and VOODOO were creeping in, there was still an afternoon to enjoy in post-Halloween reverie.

First meal of the day was lunch downtown at another at famous comfort restaurant, Mother’s. This tourist favorite is well-renowned for its authentic home style cooking and ridiculously loaded meat sandwiches. For anyone who is considering a future visit, a recommendation: make time for the post-meal pass out.

Due to the looming drive back to Texas, our Day 3 VOODOO was cut short. Luckily, The Flaming Lips make for one helluva of a one-band send off. Wayne Coyne and his troupe began the show with distinctive Lips flair. The first three members of the band were “born” by emerging from a portal shining out from the vagina of a giant, fluorescent green woman displayed on a huge LED screen. Coyne soon followed by rising from within his trademark human-hamster ball, growing in tandem as the ball inflated. He casually descended and began rolling on top of the audience, making a few rounds before rolling back on stage. The show proceeded with the usual colorful eye-candy, sprinkled with hysteria and groups of dancing women in bear costumes. At one point, one such bear was overcome with giddy enthusiasm and burst out of her clothes to dance alongside Wayne in the nude. The show ended to the audience loudly crooning to “Do You Realize?”, a sentimental ballad that was a sobering anthem to festival’s finale.

With a Wizard of Oz flying monkey marching band leading our exit procession, we had some time to mentally review the weekend’s events as New Orleans played its heart out, even after looking back to say good-bye. Their marching exit anthem epitomized the entire weekend experience – a dirty, seemingly uncoordinated party, rambling onward to sweep everything up in a wave of music, mud, and romantic mayhem. This is VOODOO alright.

More pictures from the weekend on our flickr page and full size at the the slideshow.