There was something in the air last weekend in Downtown Memphis, and it wasn’t just the smell of funnel cakes frying or Pronto Pups roasting under heat lamps. It was the magic of Beale Street Music Festival — and its long-awaited return to Tom Lee Park. The weather was about as nice as could be for the fest’s three-day stretch — sun shining, a warm breeze, and, to the surprise of literally everyone, no rain. This was not Memphis in Mud. (And the new park was pretty cool, too.) Welcome back, everyone.
My earliest Beale Street Music Fest memory is of crowd-surfing for the first time at the 1998 Green Day show. I was a teenager, and, appropriate for the time — but not so much for a festival — was sporting a pair of clunky Doc Martens. My friends hyped me up, and some friendly fest-goers agreed to hoist little ol’ me into the crowd. I distinctly recall clocking an unsuspecting fan upside the head with a flailing boot (oops) and having a few creeps grope my nethers as I floated across strangers’ outstretched arms (eek). I also vaguely remember frontman Billie Joe Armstrong stripping down to leopard print skivvies and hollering profanities (punk rock!) — and supposedly getting banned from the fest forevermore.
Every year since, I’ve attended BSMF religiously. I’ve always lived for concerts, chasing my most-loved bands across the country from the time I had a car and a job. And festivals arguably offer the best of that world, a chance to fully immerse yourself in live music, from familiar favorites to new-to-you acts. The endurance test of it all just adds to the experience.
While the memories are somewhat beer-soaked, there are standout BSMF moments that have stuck with me. In 2000, our crew stood through the entirety of a Bryan Adams set to get close to the stage for Foo Fighters, only for me to be overheating — and stepping not on the ground but on other peoples’ feet, crammed in like canned sardines — once they started playing. As I scoured the area for an escape route through the crowd, the only way out, it seemed, was up and over, and a few fine audience members once again hurled me into strange hands that shuffled me over the security railing to safety. In 2002, Stone Temple Pilots opened with a beautiful rendition of Pink Floyd’s “Shine on You Crazy Diamond” — epic. In 2006, I saw James Brown shimmy across the stage in an electric performance, just months before his passing — iconic. There have been some stellar acts through the years, too many to name. And if you’ve ever been, you surely have your own BSMF stories to tell.
After a two-year Covid hiatus and a temporary move to Liberty Park in 2022, it was a welcome return home for those of us who’ve loved the festival all these years. Were crowds smaller? Sure. Could the lineup have been better? Depends on who you ask. All in all, though, things appeared to have gone off without a hitch. The revamped Tom Lee Park was fun to navigate, with its winding walkways, hilly areas, and fenced-off newly planted landscaping. We still got that majestic river view, the notes wafting on the wind, and the energy of thousands of fest fanatics living in the moment.
I passed crowd-surfing age long ago, but I’ll never outgrow the magic of live music, the emotive nature of it. Did I dance like no one was watching? Absolutely. Did I jump around and scream-sing along until I lost my voice? You bet. (If you saw me, I apologize for nothing.) Am I still physically recovering on Tuesday? Yep, I’m definitely not a teenager anymore. Would I do it all again next weekend if I could? No doubt.
There’s something undeniably special about Beale Street Music Festival, made more so by its home along the Mississippi River. We’re incredibly lucky to have had this event here, at our back door, for so long, bringing not just our city but people from all over the world together for a big, beautiful time.
Hope to see you there next year. I’ll be somewhere up front living my best life.
