Resonate Suwannee “25: It Just Hits Differently

“You look like you were run over by a golf cart.”

re/so/nate– produce or be filled with a deep, full, reverberating sound. Hard truth, it’s all the reverberating that can be reverberated. It might be best if you sit down for this one. Hush hush. May 15-17, 2025 at Spirit of Suwannee Music Park Suwannee Resonate returned to the depths of the forest for one of the headiest, family-rich, Florida get-downs possible. STS9, Beats Antique, Papadosio, OPIUO, Shpongle, Detox Unit and the rest of the business pounded the north Florida moss with vibrations of deep, full, reverberating sound of the highest order. Most festivals do produce an umbrella theme of celebration and/but Resonate goes further into curious tendrils that spiral into that unique place where inmates participate in the asylum administration. You signed up for the group hypnosis session and your ticket includes the full package. Y’all thought this was a safari where photographs could be taken safely from the confines of the vehicle. Surprise, this is immersion therapy and you just became the star of the show. It’s Resonate Suwannee “25: It Just Hits Differently. Join the party at the beach. You’re welcome.

Many of the regulars to this fiesta wouldn’t be completely aware of the lineup and have other expectations in terms of heady vibes and audience participation. They just don’t care. It’s a fair bet the music and art will be top notch but there’s another brand of excitement for what happens after the music stops. Higher crust, the VIPness taking two sips of their brew, before leaving the rest to roast in the Florida sun. Welcome to the other side. Back in the day the wooks may have been the gate crashers but now the professionals are skimming from the top. A crew had buried Moana the Explorer a month earlier at Spring Reunion and were prepared to unearth her when they got inside the venue. They’d forgotten the map and now all the turkey oaks looked exactly the same. On the other hand, Pedro was stuffed inside a balloon and smuggled in via Moonpie’s prison purse. He whispered a private prayer against leakage but promises were made and the word is the bond.

Sad Pirates and Balloon Songs. Thursday night around two in the morning the Hobo Kamp was gently asked to shut down the amplified music. By most standards, this was coming a bit early. Payasita and Moonpie got the hard shut down at eight in the morning as the little clown squeaked her balloon concerto into the megaphone, which lucky for everyone in the near vicinity, was quickly running out of juice. Sadly, Payasita never got to finish her sunrise sonata, but by the end of the weekend Demwa figured out how to hook it up to a groundscored solar panel. “From the sun to my mouth to your ears. Do you think you’re stronger than the sun?”

Nobody looks forward to returning to work Monday, only to recount the weekend around the water cooler with details of solace and quiet nights. This is Suwannee Resonate and around the lake, in the field and on the Hippy Trail this place is an absolute zoo. For the ticket price many of the night critters came for the marathon and the sprint, together for a celebration in the forest with cousins of every ilk. They didn’t come to listen to crickets, rather to witness the production of electrical or mechanical Resonance, and to explore the sillier side of life. You might not be exactly sure what you need. You want the zoo. The park has plenty of room. In their day, Tamiami and Ma Roux used to push back into the far woods so they wanted to sleep in peace. In contrast, these savages came to stay awake for as long as possible and they appear to be getting better at it. Moonpie and Bagadix were waiting for shadow people that never came. “Do they think we’re ugly?”

Hannah’s neighborhood at the Free Range Pavilion boasted the new coach with with pink sex light and all the dangerous questions that come with such things. Next to her, El Gato offered fancy cigarettes dipped in expired codeine and beyond, Colby’s people poured sixty pounds of spicy crawfish on the table. The stink which Moonpie left on his wrists and behind his ears as a perfume of sorts, hoping to find a girl who liked the smell of Bayou La Batre.

The crew was despondent. They had seen no other pirate flags and they were afraid no one wanted to play with them. Horehay and Payasita headed out around sunrise and while on reconnaissance, ran into Pedro’s team, both hunting the same flags, in packs like velociraptors. They waved them off and returned with their first haul of the weekend, signifying the game was afoot and sparking the birth of a contagious fire.

Thanks to morning gifts by Dougie Fresh, Moonpie and Goo Bear were surrounded by a medley of gels. Purple, yellow, and green, they resembled Mardi Gras confetti littering the corner of the melted Penny Lane table. Later during the Shpongle set, Goo Bear would be seen, covered in sweat and sand climbing up from the underworld where he’d grooved with the root dwellers. Believe what you want.

Resonate just hits differently. This party showcases folks slowly making laps around the lake, visiting other campsites and joining with each other’s fun. The potluck comes with emotional highs and lows. Great friends coming together, relatives not seen in a while, some bringing luggage and some bringing jello shots.

Beer Girl introduced the kamp to Tom, who was a real pirate in a sea of pretenders. Gel tabs, cold beers and Jello shots are an especially effective way of keeping pirates from absconding with your booty. By Sunday, one of his Jolly Rogers was returned to him with an original hand painted Suwannee River Pirate standard. In the end, new friends were made which are always the best groundscores.

Shakes D. Clown showed up sometime Friday in his Audi clown car packed with guitars, a large Rastafarian and a complete drum kit. To be sure, Fred and his high hat were just what the family jam was needing. Littered with janky Christmas lights, from the end of the road it resembled some kind of deranged mother ship, searching for enthusiastic consent. Let the probing begin.

The little clown had first joined the fray at Spring Reunion and now she was introducing them to more clowns. They were falling out of the trees and this was definitely the clown pocket they never knew they needed. All of the pirate flags that came through her immediately had red noses over the skull, marked forever by pirate clowns. You’re welcome. Who knew that was a thing and how many of them does it take before things start to get weird?

Thank ye gods the brakes were fixed on the Alligator. Welcome to the Wranglers Ten Year Anniversary Tour where we promised up front that we wouldn’t say “no”. Don’t even ask for a ride home because Brother will just haul you back to the Bird Sanctuary Bar. Meow? Broc asked Moonpie if he if he wanted to get loose or get “loose” and naturally he chose the latter, slipping backwards into a place where his cognitive transmission began operating far too slowly to comprehend much of what was being said. He didn’t know what was going on and he didn’t mind. The idiots silence was misconstrued as clever and reserved while everything that had happened before that moment was lost and gone into the guff. Go into the light Clairice.

One of the kamp goals was to not have to call security. Small and attainable in the grand sceme of things. They had begun to police their own area and were working in tandem with both security and deputies to keep things safe. In terms of creating a space for folks to get funky, individuals must be careful not to bring down the vibration and when the hard line is crossed and you run away all the women, there’s nothing that can save you. Hasta luego dago.

Sloppy Soldiering with Bagadix. Folks had begun heading in for Beats Antique and the White Ninja and Moonpie knew it was a perfect time to move in on the flags they’d marked. He slapped camouflage paint over his eyes and grabbed his pirate tools. Twenty minutes later they’d harvested the first two were happily surprised to find the “Surrender the Booty” gem attached to a golf cart. Somewhere along the way Moonpie fell victim to hubris and lost the flags from his back pocket. They discontinued their hunt and joined the Beats Antique show in season, with space for them to move into the pit and let the tribal base climb up their legs and burrow into their root chakra.

Not since Hula had they been blessed with fresh boob juice but unlike Pedro who curled her nose up at the expiration date, Anna gave over the curdled breast milk adding, “that’s the way you like it.” and she wasn’t lying. Moonpie was in need of embryonic stem cells and after days of self-abuse, he could feel his epidermis tightening as he goozled down the healing elixir. At some point during the family jam, the greasiest Mexican got hold of some bad chicken and begin sliding backwards into a spiritual burrito of primordial reflection. Her skin produced ripples akin to the flesh of a blood orange with an opaque, mustard color best described as “jaundicy”.

With plenty of wiggle room left in the compound, Kent arrived up with a slough of hoodlums. Old school Suwannee, it had been years since they’d camped together. There was Eduardo “Epic Boom” with his surprise tank and Integrity with his homegrown and sploosh of live resin that would apparently “knock you in the dirt”. How these crackers had been coming to the park for so long without finding their way to into the womb of Kamp Happiness, one could only ponder.

The Art of the Side Quest: Just say yes. The Fallout Shelter party was finally congealing with Seas spitting his poetry when Kent hollered “Hop on the cart.” As he climbed aboard, Moonpie argued that he had to be back soon to host the late night party. “We’ll be back in a couple minutes” Kent laughed as they sped off into the Suwannee darkness. They returned, tattered and worn, sometime around eleven o’clock the next day. They’d join a party of “adults” somewhere in the loop and met Katie, a phantasm from St. Pete that freely shared contraband and stories until they forgot why they were ever leaving. Somewhere along the line, time seemed to slow and finally stand still and they had entered the microverse. One the way back from the Loop, Moonpie spotted a Grateful Dead Jolly Roger that must have been a mirage. He could no longer trust his eyes. The great white buffalo. All he would have to do was remember where it was and return with a strike force.

He’d been drifting too far from the shore and considered sleeping in the inflatable vagina but the mid-day heat made sleeping an impossibility. As he walked to the shower, he could feel his engine light blinking.  but it succeeded in bringing down his core temperature and reinvigorating him for the continuing gauntlet. Reports from the end of River Road heralded a brand of beach party rarely seen. The warm temperatures sent the hippies into the Suwannee River, where bathing in the healing waters of the nearby springs provided a ritual baptism in the literal Fountain of Youth.

Resonate is about sharing and at some point during the festivities, Kamp Happiness more or less, ceased using money. Kolt McCoy’s people moved from the Renaissance back to their original spot near the lake, close to the Fallout Shelter. The River Pirates pushed up the west flank and with Hannah’s people running the Bill Monroe Pavilion, they had once again organized a group of familiars that pushed out in every direction. It had taken years, but they were working to know everyone who ventured to the park. This is SOSMP. Music Lives Here. Be careful what you wish for, you may get it.

Eye of the storm    Shakes and Moonpie were there together. One hundred forty mile per hour hurricane winds slashing in brutal feeder bands around them in every direction, hundreds of tornadoes independent and connected by tendrils of wind, and at the center, light breezes and clear skies. D. Clown came in “small dog” ready to assist in all the ways. The brought his A game and it worked in terms of class and funk. They vibed in the center, surrounded by delicious chaos.

Sunrise. The strike force left around sunrise for the great white buffalo. Three of the team stopped at the arcade while Moonpie slipped back into the Loop. He couldn’t remember exactly where he’d seen the white Jolly Roger but it haunted his dreams. He passed Loop 61 where he’d parked his Coachman, with children and parents many years ago. Heather had brought her kids and stayed with them there, now she was camped somewhere else in the park with a new paramour. Regular folks, not like the motley crew with which he was now associated. He located it, carefully slipped it from it’s perch and fell victim to hubris for the second time. As Moonpie slowly walked back to Kamp, still missing his credentials from the night before, someone created up behind him and scuttled off to the pier with his new booty. Such is the way off the Barbary Coast. All’s fair in love and war.

Trust in the process. Don’t give up. The festival knows what she’s doing. The Colorado crowd left on Friday haggard and worn. Charles and Moana were trying to survive the heat, sitting completely still in the shade of the kamp, and knew that leaving was a bad idea. Friends were getting into emotional arguments, serotonin levels were running low, but one had to respect the process and stick with it. Attention to detail, commitment and hustle. Never forget.

Tenderfoot had introduced Moonpie to bumper bumps at Mondegreen. Now they were discovering stump bumps on the way back from the river with Bagadix and the Spinner. Sometimes it’s important to leap, haphazardly, from the golf cart and take the slow walk with someone down the dusty trail. The votive candles had all melted and wax had run down his car onto Danny’s ten dollar Resonate t-shirt. At the end of the day, even covered with wax, who could complain about a ten dollar shirt?

Late Saturday night Baitbucket leaned forward in his chair and finally succumbed to sleep for the first time in a while. Somehow, during the disco nap he’d been attacked by an MRE. When he came to, he looked as if he’d run over a deer with a tractor. Seconds later, he sat down in a warm tray of rice crispy space treats donated by the neighbors. Stumbly, fumbly, bumbly. Dominick Michelle had brought all the unused groceries to the art table and was serving breakfast to passing hippies. Even pirates have to eat.

Thank you to everyone who donned Wook Wranglers VIPness laminates. As always, connecting the proletariat to the bourgeoisie. The key that opens all the doors. Please remember, with great power comes great responsibility. You’re welcome.

Shut your whore mouth. Moana visited the BS Bar on her way back from Detox Unit and realized she was getting a little “jittery”. Her cut off shorts appeared to have been shredded by a honey badger and she had no idea how. Cody started a ruckus at the OPIUO set but left early to annoint himself with oils and salves in preparation of the nightly festivities. Both Bagadix and El Gato had punctured their ear drums. This party was not for the uninitiated. If it was easy everyone would do it.

JBfly and Luna took off for a private adventure, only to end up with a portion of her quarter panel left leaning up against a tree in kamp. Some mysteries are best left unsolved.

The pirates had done a fine job of hanging the booty but in their thirst for treasure they created some kind of sterile environment, a closed system where no one even tried to steal back their flags. For once their defense was sound. As they packed up the menagerie, Dougie Fresh brought them more gels for CaveJam and the Beer Lady served warm breakfast burritos for the egress team. It’s nice to work with professionals. Some of these people have been playing in the woods for years and it’s obvious.

Gravedigger’s Post Party. Always ask for the late checkout. Shakes D. Clown included a pack of prison noodle seasoning in the shrimp and grits. VIP and Pimp King, Gravedigger showed up with her big dick energy for mandatory hydration and air conditioning during breakdown. Gifting Moonpie a Free Range Strange cap with Terrapin wings, the kind of thing that can make a man cry like a girl with a skint knee. Without missing a beat, a wandering wook came to trade for it. Although he was known as a shrewd wheeler dealer, some things are not on the table. You can also forget about the Grateful Dead coin and the Gandalf the Grey pipe. Sorry, not sorry. And if you get invited to the farm for a little tussle, it’s suggested you wear a sundress with no lederhosen.

Visit the Suwannee Resonate website and like their social media sites on Facebook, Instagram and X. The world is yours. Remember, no AI is used in any part of the Wrangler Media factory. All olde tyme brain juice.

In the end, amidst all of the chaos and sideways fun, most everyone was able to Resonate on a high vibration and move with the eye of the storm. New friends were made and the process proved to be effective. Everyone made it through the gauntlet and came away a little smarter. They had endured and survived, nay…Expanded. Surely they’d eaten from the tree, but they’d been “fed” by the flowing energy of the forest. And for a while they were free. The family got bigger and some loved ones realized they needed to live a little further away so they could get some damn sleep. Hustlers gonna hustle. Real talk.

Meghan, with the strength of youth, took her pony to the shore and left Resonate directly for Sunday night at Rockville in Daytona. JBfly thought it was Tuesday but actually made it home to Boone Thursday with little time to recoup before CaveJam. After that they would have a bye before Mountain Music Festival. With FloydFest on the horizon, the summer train rolls on. Get on where ever you can and hold tight. The party returns to Suwannee in October with Roots Revival and Hulaween. Feel the inertia.

Thank you, thank you to everyone who participated in the frivolity and fun. That was quite the spectacle. No prophets, no profits. Believe what you want. Namaste y’all.