Stories from the Edge of Music #38: Surprises, deep in the heart of Western Canada
At the Calgary Folk Festival, writing on an unfamiliar laptop in a brief downtime from a mass of music and a flock of friends
THE MOST ECLECTIC FESTIVAL OF THEM ALL
I’ve said this before, but I’ll say it again: “folk” festivals offer far more genres of music than boisterous sea shanties, sad ballads of lost love, kumbaya moments of political or personal inspiration, or country songs about (to quote the late Steve Goodman) mama, trains, prison, pickup trucks or dead dogs called Shep.
With luck, a folk festival will offer all these kinds of music as well as buxom young women with Birkenstocks doing helicopter dances side stage. There will be little kids everywhere. There will be beer tents, endless praise for the hundreds of volunteers who keep the event running smoothly, endless credits for sponsors.
And at Calgary, the festival this year had raucous jazz- and rap-oriented hip hop, dirge-like Canadian pop, old-school (no, ancient-school) R&B, upbeat singer-songwriters with something to say, cockeyed alternative country music (without dead dogs), blues, and African bands with percussion you‘d be able to hear if you lived downtown from the festival site. Oh, and some old-tyme banjo playing and a contemporary mariachi band.
All the above is to say that the Calgary “Folk” Festival is arguably one of the most musically eclectic musical affairs in the whole country, and I’ll hazard a guess that Canada has more music festivals than any other country in the world.
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The music I heard, and the music I missed
If you’re privileged to be a performer or a guest at Calgary, you’ll miss a shitload of music. The backstage area is huge, there are tables, spotlessly clean toilets, a giant screen showing what’s happening on the main stage, a bar, snacks — and so many friends you haven’t seen for a year.
With good friends, a cool beer (non-alcoholic for me), a nearby massage tent, and the distant thrum of all sorts of music — why move?
Alas, I didn’t hear any sea shanties or Stan Rogers songs, but I have three more festivals to go to this summer, so hope springs eternal. And since there are six stages around Calgary’s riverside site, whatever you do you’ll miss five-sixths of the music during the day. So maybe someone did sing “Barrett’s Privateers” and I missed it.
But there were, for these ears, some notable highlights. Here’s just some of what I did hear — in no particular order:
Saturday night, main stage, The Roots. LOUD rap hip-hop mayhem. A sunglassed lead singer, spitting rapidfire lyrics that these much older ears couldn’t begin to comprehend, with a honking riff-laden horn section, tape loops, screaming guitars, pounding jazz-influenced drums and percussion, and a sousaphone player marching back and forth behind the singer.
Friday night, main stage, Cowboy Junkies. This veteran Toronto band, fronted by the transcendentally beautiful Margo Timmins, plays intense, medium-tempo, ethereal music. There is no “show,” no laughter, no smiles, but what a treat was the deeply felt version of that old standard, “Blue Moon.”
Early Friday evening, Stage 4, NYSSA. This woman has been my “discovery” of the year. A dynamic, expressive singer — this time with a lead guitarist, a drummer and a bunch of tape loops and keyboard-triggered sound effects. Comparisons are odious, but imagine an artist with powerful energy, a glass-shattering voice, and (maybe) influenced by Chrissie Hynde and the Pretenders.
Sunday evening, main stage, Fantastic Negrito. Wow! If you’ve not seen or heard this singer, please get on the case! With a power-packed band, and stage presence to burn, he bridges old blues with screaming, repetitive riffs, current Black styles (hip hop, avant garde jazz, new- and old-school R&B). He takes no prisoners — think Jimi Hendrix crossed with Sly and the Family Stone with a dash of James Brown.
Saturday morning, Stage 4, the Mariachi Ghost. What? A 10-piece Mexican band? All of them wearing face makeup? From —where? — Winnipeg? Yes, your mind boggles a bit, but they are great fun, and their front man, Jorge Ramos, carries a torch for traditional and contemporary music from the country he left 15 years ago.
Friday evening, main stage, Shakura S’Aida. The strongest Canadian singer in the blues idiom, she was the emcee. Didn’t sing a note, yet her charm and grace kept the evening moving. She’s been a good friend for years and years, but this was the first time I’ve seen her tackle the on-stage host role. As usual, and as she does with every new thing she tackles, she nailed it.
Sunday afternoon, stage 4, the Bobby Tenderloin Universe. You can’t resist a name like that! Bobby’s a gruff-voiced alt-country singer with some funny, silly songs and a great deal of heart. The band rocks, too.
Sunday evening, main stage, Booker T and the Stax Revue. Direct from the Golden Age of rhythm and blues, Booker T (“Green Onions”) on keys wearing a flat cap and a smile and fronting four horn players, a crack rhythm section, and three singers. You know the songs: “Hold On I’m Coming,” “Soul Man,” “Try a Little Tenderness” and so many more from the glory days of Stax Records. Alas, Otis Redding, Carla Thomas, Sam & Dave and the rest of them are no longer here; Booker T. Jones is the last man standing. But this is, alas, just a cover band — albeit a pretty good one — and they had to follow Negrito. Whoever said doing the old songs was easy?
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And who did I miss?
Well, I missed Nicolette & the Nobodies, an Americana country band from Guelph, Ontario, fronted by a sweet-voiced, cowboy-hatted singer who’s the daughter of Vietnamese refugees to Canada. Checking her videos, I’m particularly annoyed at myself, but she’s playing a show in Toronto in September so I’ll catch her then.
Sad that I missed banjo-wielding Meredith Moon, who’s carrying on a family tradition (she’s Gordon Lightfoot’s daughter) but in a very different way. I caught only a little bit of K.T. Tunstall, the Scottish singer-songwriter, who was playing to tracks, but who had some really smart songs.
Wyatt C. Louis is someone I’ve heard LOTS about but haven’t heard. I missed him at Mariposa, too — but I promise I’ll catch up with him in a couple of weeks at the Edmonton Folk Festival.
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THIS SUBSTACK HAS BEEN BROUGHT TO YOU BY…
Kym Butler, in whose comfortable apartment I am writing this newsletter. Everybody should have friends like this in the cities you visit. She’s deeply involved with the festival (she handles artist liaison) and she cooks a great breakfast. And we stay at each other’s homes when we travel to/from Calgary and Toronto.
Tamara Nile (a.k.a. T.Nile) supported me with our first storytelling session in the festival’s Talk Tent. I told stories, she sang songs associated with the folk I was talking about. The audience seemed to like it, and we’ll do it again (the gods willing) at more festivals next year. She’s also a beautiful, warm-hearted roommate…
Steph Russell appointed herself, unasked but much appreciated, as my road manager, personal assistant, driver, and 24/7 provider of donuts, coffee, and non-alcoholic beer. Generous of heart and spirit, I wish she’d move to Toronto.
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VIDEOS FOR YOUR WEEKEND
Here are the Roots, hanging around in the National Public Radio’s “Tiny Desk” studio — surely the largest band that ever played in that space.
Fantastic Negrito chose a good name for himself. He’s played the Calgary Folk Music Festival two years in a row.
The closest the Calgary Festival got to old-tyme country music were the performances of young Meredith Moon.
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HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO AN OLD FRIEND
The happiest of birthdays, and long life, to Buddy Guy. He’s still on the road, and he’s just marked his 88th birthday. Last time we spoke, before his show at Massey Hall in Toronto a few months ago, he grinned at me and said: “You know, Flohil, we’re the last ones standing. Me, Bobby Rush in Louisiana, and you.
“And that songwriter in Austin who smokes a lot of weed — yeah, Willie Nelson! We’ve outlasted pretty well everyone else!”
Dunno where I found this shot, but it’s from 1972 and it’s a golden memory of a night that Buddy sat in with the Downchild Blues Band at Grossman’s Tavern, the rough-and-tumble Toronto bar where Downchild began in 1969.
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That picture’s a reminder that when the summer festival season is over I’ll share some Downchild stories with you. They were the original Blues Brothers, and they’re currently on their final farewell tour. After more than half-century on the road, it’s time to hang up their dancing shoes.
I’ll be back with you in a couple of weeks, with Stories from the Edge of Music coming from either Canmore or Edmonton.
Meanwhile, I can’t be bothered to put stuff behind a paywall, but modest support ($6 per month) is so very much appreciated!
From what I hear Richard, some of the traditional festivals, like bluegrass festivals, should read your comments closely and start thinking out of their tiny box. If the goal is to increase the audience and ticket sales, a bit of eclectic can go a long way.