Summer is simply not summer without catching at least one show by 15-time Grammy winner and owner of the most carefully coiffed hair in polka Jimmy Sturr and the Jimmy Sturr Orchestra. And there is no better place to see that show than in the big tent at Hunter Mountain in Hunter, New York.
The big tent once played host to tons of big names every summer, from Bobby Vinton to Hank Williams Jr. to Carl Perkins to German überstar Heino, all of whom I saw at Hunter Mountain when I was a kid, though my memories of most of those shows are, for better or worse, a little hazy. But I do remember seeing Willie Nelson there and waiting patiently as he signed autographs from the lip of the stage for about an hour. And the only time I saw The Johnny Cash Show was in Hunter, too. And I think some guy from The Association gave me his phone number (I was, oh, about 14 at the time, probably) as he signed my program after the Rockstalgia festival in Hunter. But cherish is not the word I use to describe myself of that occurrence. I just thought you should know.
Anyway, the centerpiece of the festival season, even in the boon days, has always been the German Alps Festival. There was a time when it ran the entire month of July, but, well, things have changed. Now it's two days in August, there are only a handful of vendors, and they're so ill prepared that they can't stock enough sauerbraten, a criminal offense if ever there was one.
But one thing that hasn't changed is Jimmy Sturr and the Jimmy Sturr Orchestra, the star attraction of the German Alps Festival year after year and a guarantee that there will be a bunch of senior citizen asses shaking on the dance floor for a few hours.
For those who haven't read the literary masterpiece Critical, But Stable, Jimmy Sturr is a Grammy-winning machine who can rightly claim to be the modern-day king of polka (Frankie Yankovic still holds on to the all-time throne). His stage show, which, as the guy next to me during Set 1 (of four I took in over the weekend), could probably use some freshening up, but the devoted don't seem to mind that much.
The average show begins with, naturally, the theme to "2001: A Space Odyssey," starting with just Keith Slattery on keyboards and building as the rest of the eleven-piece orchestra takes the stage. Then comes "Rebel Rouser," after which the man of the hour bounds onto the stage and proceeds to lead the band in "Play Me Some Polka Music." Then it's off to the races, with the songlist usually determined, to some extent, by the crowd.
This particular weekend's best set was the evening set on Saturday, marked by Sturr inviting a bunch of guys and girls who looked to be my age and were wearing homemade "Jimmy Freakin' Sturr" t-shirts. It was all a good, fun, slightly inebriated time until one of the guys attempted to put his hat on Sturr's head. The man will let you up on stage, the man will let you sing into his microphone, but the man will not let you mess up his hair. It was the most uncomfortable moment of the weekend, unless you count the moment during Set 1 when I turned to my left and I noticed the guy in lederhosen was loudly singing "I Can't Stop Loving You" and looking in my general direction. What is the etiquette in that situation?
In addition to the usual star vocalists of the Orchestra, Fiddlin' Frankie Urbanovitch, Gennarose and sax player and Polka Hall of Famer Johnny Karas (the latter two above), Sturr also had the Calhoun Twins along for the weekend. The Calhouns are an old-time country music duo, which you wouldn't think would match up with polka. Of course, you're wrong. And, as proof, just go to any Jimmy Sturr show and count the times he says the phrase "a guy named Willie Nelson." Willie's guested on a few Sturr albums, and in case you didn't know that, you will have it seared in your memory by set's end. Country also pops up through covers of Gretchen Wilson's "All Jacked Up" (Set 2) and Frankie Urbanovitch's barn-burning rip through "The Devil Went Down to Georgia" (Sets 1 and 4), which literally stopped the show for the weekend, as it was the last song played before the band packed up Sunday afternoon for another gig later that night.
The hardest-working band in polka business, people.
***
Another yearly highlight of the German Alps Festival is summed up in three simple words: "direct from Germany." Every year, there's at least one band imported from Deutschland for the occasion, and these bands are occasionally tough on the ears but always impossible not to look at. The prime example, of course, is the aforementioned Heino. Think of the awful things that come to your mind when you hear the phrases "German pop" and "German folk music." But then look at a picture of Heino and tell me that you wouldn't watch him put on a show.
Unfortunately, Heino hasn't been to Hunter Mountain in over a decade, maybe more. But filling the "direct from Germany" slot this year was die Bayrische 7 , a group of seven women dressed up in various attention-getting costumes, who, we are told, are the highlight of the Oktoberfest. The veracity of this claim is a bit suspect, as the same statement also made about 2004's direct from Germany group, Münchner Zwietracht, who were six guys dressed up in various attention-getting costumes. But, whatever the case, one thing is clear: Oktoberfest attendees love attention-getting costumes.
Of course, while I didn't notice many women ogling the members of Münchner Zwietracht, there were certainly a few men mesmerized by the bassist of die Bayrische 7, whose shirt barely made an attempt to cover her breasts during Set 2. I almost took a picture of the guys in the front drooling over her, but I chickened out. So instead I took pictures during one of the songs that featured the Alpine horn. You fill in the joke.
The ladies did a brisk business at the merch table. I made do with a free signed postcard.
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But wait, there's more. There were also several dance demonstrations by the HSV Bavaria Schuhplattlers from West Haven, Connecticut, who never fail to (a) entertain or (b) bring back warm memories of the one truly good scene in "National Lampoon's European Vacation."
And there was also die Klosterjäeger (direct from Austria), who took it to the tables on Sunday to play the bells for the people.
Then they jammed in the pub with Alpine Squeeze.
The festival hasn't been the same since Ingo and Caroline called it quits, but the Schwarzenegger Connection attempted to rouse the masses at the Bier Garden stage with sets that mixed German tunes with some painfully bad country covers, including a version of "On the Road Again" that was so bad I almost cried. But they did occasionally get people up and dancing, including the all-time greatest dancing couple in the world, who I've seen at the festivals before and also, I think, at Polkapalooza in Atlantic City five years ago. Finally, I got a good picture.
See you next year.
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