You want to know something weird? I’ve lived in Vermont for just about 30 years. And in all that time, up until earlier this month, I only passed through St. Albans once — on the way back from Montréal with my girlfriend at the time.
Taco Bell was her guilty pleasure, and the closest one was in St. Albans. So we popped in, got the taco-like substances and were gone, all in less than 15 minutes. Faster than you can say “food poisoning” (sorry, Andrea), I had experienced the town, filed it under “Nah, I’m good” and decided that was that.
In truth, I never meant to blacklist the place; I’ve heard rumors of its good diners and lively new bars for a while. Once I became a full-time music journalist and started driving from one end of the state to the other for live music, it dawned on me how odd it was that I hadn’t visited St. Albans again, even though it’s essentially two highway exits north from where I live.
To be fair, the events scene didn’t exactly have me champing at the bit. “Midgets With Attitude” wrestling — google it (or don’t, actually). Karaoke nights and open mics don’t really get me excited, either, but different strokes for different folks, I suppose.
One event that seemed different was Kingman Fest. The annual downtown block party on Kingman Street started in 2022, spearheaded by Shannon Smith, owner of the Depot nightclub.
“It was a way of coming out of the pandemic to get people back downtown in St. Albans,” Smith told me on a phone call.
What started as an idea to drum up some business for struggling local institutions turned into a proper blowout. Thousands of people now flock to the fest, which features a giant stage at the lower end of Kingman Street (closed to traffic), along with food trucks, beer tents, local artisans, kids’ games and, hell, even some tarot reading.
“Each year, we just kept hearing back from other businesses and residents how much they loved it,” said Lauren Warshofsky, the Depot’s events planner. “So we wanted to keep refining it and making it bigger, but in a measured, intelligent way.”
Smith said she noticed how many of her friends were always driving toward Burlington for entertainment and festivals such as Waking Windows and Grand Point North.
“We wanted something that would bring that feel to Franklin County,” she said. “But unlike a lot of those other festivals, ours is totally free and family-friendly.”
I sure do love the free part, but as a childless vagabond, I find the term “family-friendly” usually translates to “There will be overpriced IPAs you can buy while you watch your brat pick a fight in the ball pit.”
But as my interview with Smith and Warshofsky wound down, they gently chided me for not making it up to Kingman Fest in previous years. Maybe I needed a little peer pressure, maybe it was just time to take in St. Albans’ majesty, but either way, I drove up for the third-annual fest earlier this month.
It was raining a little as I parked in front of St. Albans City Hall, but the drizzle didn’t dampen the general feeling of excitement as people streamed toward Kingman Street. A guy smoking a joint in the park outside city hall asked if I wanted to scalp some tickets to the fest.
“It’s a free festival,” I replied.
He flashed a lopsided grin in return. “You got me! Hey, a dude has to try. Have a good time, brother!”
Downtown was busy, but not overly so; when I stopped to have some dinner at Los Jefes, a popular new taco spot, I didn’t have to wait for a table. The bars were hopping, but you could order a beer in pretty short order. It was like the city had figured out how to throw a party of just the right size.
I got back to Kingman Street as the evening’s musical entertainment hit the stage. Vocalist Jesse Agan, who fronts the Queen tribute act that played last year’s festival, formed a sort of local all-star cover band with fellow Vermonter Morgan Myles, a 2022 finalist on the NBC talent show “The Voice.” The two singers attacked a playlist featuring the likes of Heart, Aerosmith and (of course) Queen.
With its classic-rock cover band, Kingman Fest is certainly less hip than, say, Waking Windows in Winooski. But there’s no replacing vibe, and Kingman Fest had a fabulous, old-school, fuck-it-crack-that-beer-in-the-alleyway vibe that surprisingly grabbed me the instant I hit those St. Albans streets.
Walking back to my car, humming Def Leppard songs the band had just played, I saw the would-be ticket scalper again, drinking some beers with friends by a bench.
“You get rocked out, bro?” he asked me, seeming genuinely curious. “Kingman Fest, baby! You better come back next year.”
You know, I think I will.
This article appears in May 29 – Jun 4, 2024.
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