Adirondack Music Festival: A Day in Lake George

Words and Photography by Stephanie J Bartik.

When I picked up my photo pass for the Adirondack Music Festival in Lake George, NY, the rules were simple: the first three songs for every artist. That might sound straightforward—except most of the lineup was jam bands. If you’ve never seen one live, here’s the deal: a single “song” can stretch on for 15 minutes or more, flowing and twisting like a river. That meant three songs could easily become the length of an entire set.

So, while the music swirled on stage, I wandered. I people-watched. Bare feet padded across the festival grounds. Tie-dye shirts and neon splashes of color filled the crowd. Long skirts swayed as backpacks bounced to rhythms only their owners seemed to know. Dancers spun in their own choreography, like human kaleidoscopes. For me, it was déjà vu—a living flashback to my late-1960s and early-’70s high school days. Peace signs, paisley prints, and a vibe that felt just shy of Woodstock (minus the mud).

And then my brain pulled up a scene from the past. Picture this: a long bench under a tired old tree, a teenager (me) lying back with one arm flung dramatically across her forehead, the other hand shaking out Tic Tacs like they were forbidden pills. Why? Because in the ’70s, every after-school special about drugs opened that way—a kid experimenting alone on a park bench, ominous music swelling in the background. In my case, the soundtrack was just rattling mints. (Wait—you mean you didn’t do that? Just me? Well then. For the record, I’ve been Tic Tac clean for years now.)

The Festival Scene

The Adirondack Music Festival is a three-day, multi-band event at the Charles R. Wood Festival Commons, right in the heart of Lake George. With two side-by-side stages, the music flows continuously until 11 p.m. every night, and the production values are top-notch. It’s a family-friendly environment, but also a space where festival-goers can slip into their own tie-dyed world of endless grooves.

I was only there for Friday, drawn by one band in particular: Start Making Sense, a Talking Heads tribute act based in Bethlehem, PA—my home for about 17 years.

Friday’s Lineup

Friday’s stacked bill featured Sly Fox and the Hustlers, Organ Fairchild, Sicard Hollow, George Porter Jr. & Runnin’ Pardners, Neighbor, Start Making Sense (with Ocean Avenue Stompers Horns), and closing the night, moe. Each set built momentum, the crowd swelling as the sun dipped lower.

But the magic, for me, arrived with Start Making Sense.

A Tribute to Genius

If David Byrne is one of modern music’s true geniuses, then Start Making Sense is a tribute to genius itself. This seven-piece band faithfully recreates the entire Talking Heads catalog—including deep cuts the Heads never performed live. Frontman Jon Braun channels Byrne with uncanny precision, not just in voice but in presence, capturing the eccentric energy that made Talking Heads legendary. The result is a show that feels like a time capsule, transporting fans back to the height of Byrne’s creative power.

The horns brought extra punch to the arrangements, giving songs like “Burning Down the House” and “Life During Wartime” a new surge of life. The crowd responded in kind—dancing harder, singing louder, embracing the moment with abandon.

Dancing in the Rain

By the time Start Making Sense closed their set, the skies opened. Rain poured over the commons. But instead of dampening spirits, it sparked something electric. Barefoot fans in neon and tie-dye turned the downpour into a dance floor. It was their own personal Woodstock—ecstatic, colorful, joyfully unbothered.

I stayed dry behind the lens. Trust me—you do not want to hear me sing or see me dance. Neither is “pretty,” and I’m more than happy to leave the music-making and interpretations to the pros on stage. My job was to capture the energy, not compete with it.

Final Thoughts

That’s what makes the Adirondack Music Festival so memorable. It isn’t just about the lineup (though Friday’s was stellar), or the lakeside setting (which is gorgeous), or even the flawless production (which it was). It’s about the way the music transforms the crowd, bringing strangers together into a swirl of rhythm, color, and connection.

Whether you’re chasing Talking Heads nostalgia, grooving to a jam band’s 20-minute odyssey, or simply people-watching with a camera in hand, Lake George offers a festival experience that lingers long after the last note fades.