The Dirtbombs incinerated during their afternoon set, sticking to rough soul and garage-y power-pop from their albums Dangerous Magical Noise and Ultraglide in Black for the most part, choosing few selections from their more experimental latest album. The audience howled at the end of the set when one of their two drummers stacked his floor tom on top of the other’s snare and climbed on top of the kick drum. The pair pounded away in unison as stagehands slowly struck the gear. Even the two kits got broken down around the duo as they played, until nothing was left but the unamplified bass drum one was using as a perch. On the final beat, he leapt off as the roadie deftly carried it away. The act, though obviously rehearsed, kicked so much ass I didn’t even get a picture.
WWOZ was raffling off this cherry-red Vespa scooter signed by several Voodoo artists, including Kermit Ruffins, Rev. Horton Heat, Walter “Wolfman” Washington and James Andrews. Irma Thomas and Allen Toussaint signed. Not sure if it’s visible in the photo, but apparently, so did Buddy Bolden. 
I walked through the Preservation Hall tent and sat for a minute to check out the PHJB - with Hall director Ben Jaffe playing tuba, which I think is fairly rare for in-town shows - and had a complete loss of awareness of my surroundings as the band led a brief second line during “St. Louis Blues.” I really had a whole thirty seconds or so that I thought I was at Jazz Fest. Maybe too much Voodoo for me. 
Not sure if it’s visible in this lame cell-phone picture, but the nonagenarian singer of the Blind Boys of Alabama, Jimmy Carter, is being gently steered around the stage (Carter is one of the only remaining members of the original five, who met at a school for the blind) by a handler whose job it seems to be to point Carter in the right direction, so he can rock the crowd - which he does. 
Alex McMurray led the Tin Men and his oddly popular Valparaiso men’s chorus through a rousing set of sea shanties that was possibly the most high-energy of any set at the Bingo! Parlour all weekend. (Funny, how he can deliver a line like “Boston, the land of the bean and the cod” with such sweaty conviction.) This iteration of the choir included Bad Off frontman Erik Corriveaux, klezmer wizard Jonathan Freilich, Happy Talk Band leader Luke Allen, actor Chris Lane in white tie and tails and Gambit contributor David Kunian. 
Rolling Elvi plan their… rolling, beside a placid, sun-dappled lake. Last year at Voodoo I swore I would figure out a way to sneak in a kayak this year and I totally forgot. 
The Happy Talk Band started out the day with a freaked-out Velvets-style version of “Legalize Suicide” starring a hungover-looking Alex McMurray’s fuzzy, squealing guitar. After the song, a fan handed singer Luke Allen a full handle of Jameson’s Irish whiskey in thanks. (Mitch Palmer on pedal steel and Casey McAllister on keyboards also pictured.)
An imaginatively named retailer, and a look at the consistently eager crowd outside the vendor selling glass pipes. I spent twelve hours in City Park today, and hardly half on one went by that I didn’t get a bracing whiff of something herbal floating by on the autumn breeze. The stand in the second photo was hopping all day. I’m just saying. 
A small child dances (and then falls down) during the opening set from One Man Machine, with Mark Bingham on electric banjo.