By Wayne Baggs
Wow—Day 2 of Mariposa 2025 was downright magical. The morning kicked off at the pub stage with the Run With the Kittens + Boo Radley Project workshop—funny, spontaneous, and bursting with horn solos, tambourines, and audio surprises. Watching Nate Mills direct a nine-piece band raw and live was hilarious, setting a joyful tone for the whole day.
Afternoon at Barnfield Point felt like scenes out of a feel-good movie: kids running through sprinklers, families painting, and even Waldo paddling by the water—pure festival bliss. Yet, the heat was intense—sweat, laughter, and an almost collective wish for a sprinkle of rain. And that sprinkle turned into a downpour by dusk—Memphis-dogged rain that cut Basia Bulat’s set short but washed the humidity away like a refreshing reset.
Basia Bulat owned the Lightfoot Stage at 5pm. She roamed between piano, guitar, autoharp—and even snuck in “If You Could Read My Mind” as a respectful nod to Lightfoot. She effortlessly mixed Polish (“Disco Polo”) and English lyrics, brought a cozy vibe, and wrapped with her airy soprano as the rain began. When the skies opened up mid‑version of “Five, Four,” the few brave souls dancing in the mud above all else felt kinda epic.
Even amid the downpour, Holly Cole’s band picked up seamlessly once the rain paused—George Koller was grinning like he’d plotted some inside joke, and saxophonist John Johnson punctuated solos so smooth, it felt like one long collective exhale of relief. This was followed by Inuit singer Elisapie, with a stunning version of Going To California. With much anticipation, Waxahatchee followed. They didn’t disappoint. Then Iron and Wine take the main stage.
Set against cerulean skies, Sam Beam and his band opened with “Walking Far From Home,” the familiar guitars and soft percussion washing over the audience. It felt like a collective exhale. Beam’s voice, at once intimate and resonant, carried every nuance of nostalgia and introspection. As twilight approached, “Flightless Bird, American Mouth” soared, each note striking with fresh vulnerability, reminding everyone why they’d returned here today.
But this performance wasn’t only about the hits. Between elegiac melodies, Beam offered asides—playful anecdotes about family, summers spent camping in northern Ontario, and how Orillia’s lakeside landscape echoes his musical roots. It grounded the show in place and spirit: a small-town ramble given national resonance.
That Saturday felt like a fraternal ritual—kids painted by the lake, elders relaxing under canopy tents, newfound friends comparing set lists. Even a soggy setlist couldn’t dampen the mood. Instead, people smiled, sang, and rooted deeper in community. Rain or shine, Day 2 cemented why Mariposa’s always more than a festival—it’s a midsummer reunion for all who believe in the power of song.
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