I could hear the drums all the way down the street, but until we neared the East Ave/Chestnut stage, I couldn't have known they were being played by a raccoon-capped, gray-haired guy with sideburns the length of a normal person's (long) hair. They tell me his name is Fred, and Fred made the Kentucky Headhunters show for me. The band's Southern rock vibe came across real authentic anyway, and each song swung on its own accord, although I could've done without the power ballad rendition of "House of the Rising Sun." (Damn it, though; now that I'm thinking about it, I have to admit it did kind of rock.)

Also worthy of note: the abundance of love handles on stage, and all the gray hair blowing in the breeze. Though it was the last day of the Jazz Fest, the crowds were thick, and as we made our way through ‘em, Fred's drums echoed in our heads.

Maybe I'll dream about those sideburns tonight. See ‘em once, and I swear it's hard to get ‘em out of your mind.