Folks on folk
The people's folk music festival oral assessment
"I love this song," says a lanky man swaying to the music of David Byrne. This is the first night of the Calgary Folk Music Festival at Prince's Island Park. As the sun sets, the former Talking Heads frontman jokes that he has tried to get into Banff National Park's "special areas" using his park warden-like attire. Mostly he's playing songs, new and old. Everyone's a music critic, especially in the relaxed atmosphere of the festival grounds. "I love that line," lanky repeats to a friend. "'I only watch TV when I'm stoned.' That's the greatest line. I love that." He pauses reflectively, "I only watch TV when I'm stoned." Lanky rates David Byrne: David Byrne is OK but… what's a David Byrne?
As Byrne finishes his last song a pair of friends clap for an encore. It's getting late. One guy gives up and starts walking. His friend asks, "You're not going to stick around for the encore?"
The first replies, "There's not going to be an encore. Y'know, noise bylaws and all that."
A third man turns to them, stone faced, "shut the fuck up!" Byrne begins his encore.
Third Angry Man rates David Byrne: more park warden jokes freak!
Headlining Friday evening, direct from his last gig at a Bolivian dirt mine, is Billy Bragg. Billy's performance draws many an amateur review.
"I shoulda left a half an hour ago," grumbles a young man in a fleece jacket.
A sevenish girl with a pink ribbon on a stick asks mom: "Mom, do we have this guy's album?"
"Yes we do," mother replies, pleased in her daughter's interest.
"Then why are we here?"
"I hate it when he gets all preachy," says a woman in her mid-20s.
The crowd rates Billy Bragg: I hate it when folk festivals get all folky! Uh, socialist troubadour, socialist schmoubadour.
Saturday, the music starts early. Victoria's Carolyn Mark is performing at one of the side stages with Her Roommates. It's mid-afternoon. A five-ish girl in the crowd loudly demands her mother's attention: "Mom, Mom, Mom! Lookit, I have this cut on my foot! It's OK though. I just took the skin off and ate it!"
Foot-skin-eating Kid rates Carolyn Mark: I don't think Carolyn Mark or Hillhurst/Sunnyside heard me, I said I ate my foot skin!
A sea of tarps and camping chairs cover the field in front of the main stage. Toronto's Rheostatics are playing "Claire" from the Whale Music soundtrack. An ankle-length tie-dye smock dancer dances within a sea of shorts and T-shirts. A little girl in a fairy costume hops about. Things on sticks mark various enclaves in Tarpland. There's a butterfly, two ornamental ducks, a pink thing.
A woman sets her chair on an open patch of grass. The guy behind, now unable to completely outstretch his transparent, knee-high-brown-socked legs, goes beet red. "What on Earth gives you the right to put your chair there?"
Brown Socks rates the Rheostatics: I liked the Rheostatics' old stuff better before they had that lady sitting on the grass where my feet used to go.
In the beer corral, a homely young man wearing a Pittsburgh Penguins jersey grabs the attention of two strangers and delivers a glowing critique of one of the day's acts. "The Corb Lund Band… he digs in th' groun' with a shovel. He doesn't write his songs, he digs them outta th' groun'. Oh man, he is awesome man! His songs are not created, they're discovered! He's gonna be a shuperschtar!"
The Penguin's Corb Lund review recap: Schuperschtars aren't made, they're dischcovered…. What's a David Byrne?
Saturday night's second-to-last mainstage act is Big Sandy and his Fly-Rite Boys. Their swingin' brand of roots and rockabilly proved a hit with an earlier side stage crowd. A stocky guy in a Hawaiian shirt approaches the stage as the band prepares to play. "Hey Sandy! Here's some whiskey!" The guy wags a half-full mickey at the stage.
"Gimme that!" demands a festival staffer. The guy runs off into the roiling crowd, staff in hot pursuit. Sandy croons "I can hear tequila call my name" as they disappear.
Later, the same guy has circled the island and stands watching the band. Security eventually take him aside and demand the bottle. "Don't come back tomorrow."
Later, he is heard to remark, "That was my thing today, 'Hey Sandy, here's some whiskey!' I'm a fuckin' Calgarian!"
Fuckin' Calgarian rates the Calgary Folk Music Festival 2001: I think that security guy likes me. |
