Newport Folk Festival

Folk the System Social and political movements rarely develop over night — rather, they sprout from the straw that breaks the camel’s back. The majority of people in the United States are too unsuspicious to see injustice in its embryonic state, especially when the perpetrator is their own government. The last time this nation saw any kind of cohesive, mass dissent was during the Vietnam War, but even that took years to cultivate, at which point thousands of lives had already been lost. A young man named John Kerry, under the impression that Vietnam was a legal, noble war, volunteered for the Navy only to return from battle and testify against the war. We’re cynical enough not to believe something until we see it, yet our faith in our leaders’ best judgment has served only to expand the powers of the most secretive, ideological White House in recent memory. Enveloped as we were for eight years in the Clintonian era of “peace” and “prosperity” at home, we became politically lazy. Now the time has come once again for us to rise up, and the Newport Folk Festival — long a forum for progressive beliefs, dusted off its radical roots this year with a politically-charged program unified by a call for regime change and an end to the war. “This one’s for George,” said Graham Nash before he, Stills and Crosby delivered a poignant rendition of “Military Madness”. Fort Adams, the largest coastal fortification in the country dating back to the early 18th century, served as the backdrop for the Fort Stage (main). Strangely perfect, puffy, white clouds dotted the sharp, cerulean sky, big gulls swooped above our heads, and sails sprang up from fleets of sloops, schooners, cutters, and catamarans skimming the navy blue waters just beyond Newport Harbor. The Mammals, led by Tao Rodriguez-Seeger (Pete’s grandson), started things off at the main stage with energetic fiddles and banjos. Although destined never to transcend its era the way, say, Neil Young’s “Ohio” has done, “The Bush Boys” was an engaging, humorous denouncement of our anti-Kennedys. Next up was Mindy Smith’s fragile, wispy country. Dark hair falling around her pale frame, she sang of her teenage experience as a meek girl at the mercy of teasing peers. Her version of Dolly Parton’s “Jolene” was a hit with the crowd.

Over on the Borders Stage, Austin-based country rocker Slaid Cleaves sang of small town life and the evils of big corporations, and by proxy the U.S. government. His set has been a favorite at Newport for a few years now. A man who influenced Cleaves’ a great deal is fellow Texas songwriter Steve Earle, whose brushes with the law and hard living inform his rough and tumble tunes. The Bush administration seems to have been the catalyst for his political outspokenness, so between every song — at Newport at least — he talked about peace, the military and gun control, among other issues. The latter plays a big role in his song “Devil’s Right Hand” which he explained had always been interpreted as a call for gun control — “Mama said the pistol is the devil’s right hand” — but was actually just a story he wanted to relate — until now that is. When his son lied about taking his gun, Earle began singing the song as the anthem everyone thought it was. And a catchy tune it is, too. “Fuck the FCC”, whose extra-titular lyrics included “fuck the CIA,” “fuck the FBI,” and the like, elicited cheers of “right on!” from some of the placid folkies. All the cussing was surprisingly well-received by this child-laden crowd.

Lucinda Williams followed Earle with even more potty talk: “I’m talkin’ about Steve fuckin’ Earle!,” she exclaimed as she took the stage. Williams seemed to have been a bit in the cups which effectively stripped away her usual shyness. All tattoos, dark shades, and signature blonde shag, Williams gave us a sampling of mostly recent material, going back only to her 1998 album “Car Wheels on a Gravel Road”, on which Steve Earle played a vital role, providing backup vocals and guitar. He joined her on stage for a duet of the my-man’s-in-jail lament “Concrete and Barbed Wire”. An epic rendition of “Drunken Angel” brought me quivering to my knees. “We need fuckin’ revolutionaries like Steve Earle,” she shouted. Yes ma’am, we do, and this festival highlighted many others.

Crosby, Stills and Nash ended the day with a fantastic set — equal parts hippie nostalgia and relevant social commentary. They did all the hits and some new ones from Crosby & Nash’s new album. The old ones sounded just as good as they did long ago, their three-part harmony surprisingly intact and musicianship in top form. David Crosby’s long lost son joined them on keyboards. Stills revisited his Buffalo Springfield days with an encore of “For What It’s Worth”. The crowd of course went wild. Had Dylan been there to sing “Masters of War”, there might surely have been multiple cardiac arrests. The second day was decidedly less political, at least not as openly so. Ollabelle, with Amy Helm (daughter of the Band’s Levon Helm) on guitar and backup vocals, played a smooth mixture of gospel and rock. It was fitting then, that the Dixie Hummingbirds took the stage next. The group is composed of two older, male gospel singers and one much younger, with Garth Hudson, also of the Band, on keyboards and Levon Helm on drums (although he was sadly absent from this performance due to ill health). The Hummingbirds are the genuine gospel article — their moving renditions of old spirituals make one want to clap, dance, and praise Jesus!

Over on the Borders stage was Old Crow Medicine Show, who have taken the old time string band sound and given it the energy of the punk rock that they undoubtedly grew up on. These five young lads from Nashville sing standards like “CC Rider” as well as their own compositions. OCMS was political in a more indirect manner: their song “Big Time in the Jungle” tells the story of a young man duped into enlisting for Vietnam. A hit with the baby boomers and the kids alike. Doc Watson’s acoustic blues, country and folk were, as always, astonishing. His guitar playing is impossibly delicate and quick. His velvety baritone is positively transporting — especially during his standard rendition of Gershwin’s “Summertime”. He also paid tribute to Mississippi John Hurt, and his favorite Jimmie Rogers. Subsequent acts were undoubtedly humbled after witnessing Watson’s seemingly effortless skill. Fresh from her stint as the new Donna Godchaux in the Dead (but with real vocal talent), Joan Osborne announced her pregnancy, accounting for the motherly glow she sported. A particularly good version of her radio hit “What If God Was One of Us”, gave way to her soulful rendition of “What Becomes of the Brokenhearted”, a song she sang for the fantastic documentary about the long unrecognized Funk Brothers who played the music on nearly every famous Motown hit. Those naysayers who are only familiar with her overplayed radio tunes would do well to see her engaging live show.

Rufus Wainwright emerged donning an old guard Newport outfit complete with captain’s cap and white blazer. “Two years ago,” he began, “Bob Dylan came dressed as a Hassidic Jew, so I thought I’d one-up him by dressing as a WASP.” He alternated between piano and guitar, his voice soaring baroquely over it all. A rendition of Leonard Cohen’s “Alleluia” gave Jeff Buckley’s famous cover a run for its money. Wainwright’s mother Kate McGarrigle, whom he introduced rightly as one of the grande dames of folk music, joined him for a couple songs: her own “Talk to Me of Mendocino” and “Over the Rainbow”, featuring the slightly altered lyrics “far way from Buuuush and Cheeenyyy”.

A newly re-energized and repopulated Wilco ended the weekend with one of their best performances yet. The material from the new album A Ghost is Born gives equal time to the piano as it does to guitars and feedback, but never strays far from the melodious pop sensibility of the band’s founder Jeff Tweedy. Newport has long been a place where old and new have converged, but to the young kids who had pushed up front for this set, the fact that Garth Hudson of the Band joined Wilco for a couple songs on keyboards probably meant nothing. Of course the occasion was momentous. Adding the signature Band sound to the Woody Guthrie-penned “California Stars”, Hudson was the star of the stage — all band members hanging on his every move. The Band’s influence on Wilco has always been palpable so to see them both come together was a real treat. And so the weekend came to an end, the folk festival-cum-political rally would wait until next year, which will hopefully be just as political if not more so. If liberals get their way in November, the sitting president will be ousted, but the replacement will no doubt have his own new set of faults. The voices of dissent must continue, and Newport will hopefully be a forum for them over and over again.