I’d started a thing about Folk Fest and fragmentation, but it was sounding really pompous and boring. I’ll try writing something good about it tomorrow. For now, my list of highlights are Michael Franti’s mainstage performance, Ndidi Onukwulu’s pipes, Final Fantasy workshop ineptitude, and Indio Saravanja’s tales of existential woe and poverty (while channelling Dan Bern).
Lowlight: this stupid old woman performing in the Places I Remember workshop who did songs that were your retarded grandmother’s idea of funny (this is a carefully chosen comparison: I think someone born in the 1920s minus a couple dozen IQ points might have been amused with her trenchant social commentary in a version of the Lion Sleeps Tonight that replaced Wimowet with Wolfowitz) coupled with flagrantly enthusiastic whoring for attention.
Damn. Now I’m all mad at that stupid woman again.
The weird thing about this fest was how isolated I felt. All our camps have split apart from the way I remember them. I was with Alison and Aileen and Reyn with a whole treeline between us and Forbes and Penner. Then another gap between them and the Times Change(d) people. I only saw Steve twice while I was there and John only once. The thing that added to it was that I actually went to workshops I thought would be good instead of tagging along with other people all day. The upshot was music I enjoyed but the downside was that it was only mainstage where I was watching them with anyone.
I’m not saying it was a bad time. I had a really good time and found a bunch of artists to enjoy, which is something that’s great about being in Canada again, but it wasn’t “Woo! Mad fun with my friends!” More like “This is pretty sweet. Hey look over there; I know that guy!” Which you must admit is a different vibe.
Hmm. Maybe I won’t write up a better thing than this.aileen alison reyn steveo winnipeg folk festival