This past weekend, I finally was able to cross off a significant line item on my live music wish list, as I basked in the historical significance and mix of old-school and new-school acts that comprised this year's Newport Folk Festival. It was an incredible treat, with perfect weather, an energized and highly relevant group of heritage and blossoming acts, and great company from friends and family. Upon returning from the festival, I started emailing a bit with Lee Mergner, the Editor-in-Chief of JazzTimes Magazine, and noticed that after about three hours, we had produced a pretty length email string filled with reviews, musings, and reflections. I thought to myself, this back and forth banter would make a pretty good post. However, rather than feature off the cuff remarks, Lee thought it might make sense to draw up an official review, since, well ya know, he's a writer and that's what writers do. So below, I'm honored to present a guest post from Lee Mergner, Editor-in-Chief of what is widely regarded as the world's leading jazz publication. A special thanks to Lee for his words, and to his daughter Melissa Mergner and my father Frank Binder for their photographic contributions.
Likewise, it was also disappointing that soul and R&B dynamo Sharon Jones didn’t sit in with Helm. The woman could sing the phone book and make it sound funky. Her set on Saturday with the Dap-Kings gave the festival crowd a lift. People come to the folk festival for the lighter acoustic fare but yet they always respond to energy, such as the earthy yet electric kind that Jones and company stir up. Watching her with her soul revue band, you feel transported back to the hey-day of Stax and Muscle Shoals, when the funk was both new and raw. The Dap-Kings’ music is not really new, but since nobody else does it now, or at least does it so well, it sure seems new.
Other highlights included: an emotional and often beautiful set from the Low Anthem, who only a few years before had been working on the grounds picking up garbage; a great side-stage performance by the Punch Brothers, a virtuoso “newgrass” outfit who have honed their ensemble playing and stagecraft so the packed crowed were always in their thrall; a stirring set from The Swell Season which is basically Glenn Hansard, with support from Marketa Irglova (his co-star from Once film) and at this gig, his former band, The Frames. The effusive Hansard is never shy about showing his influences and Newport’s spirit seemed to take hold of him, though perhaps he was thinking of Woodstock. He dedicated one hard-strumming tune to Richie Havens (who played earlier), quoting “Freedom,” and during another original he sang “Rain on me” ala Daltrey, and he also performed Van Morrison’s “Into the Mystic.” The energetic and heartfelt singer did sit in later with Helm for the obligatory “The Weight,” along with Havens (who struggled to read and sing the lyrics). He looked like he had just won the lottery.
Levon Helm is in the midst of a heroic and triumphant comeback from throat cancer, bankruptcy and god knows what else. A few years back he started performing gigs at the barn/studio attached to his house in Woodstock, inviting special guests and calling the shows “Rambles” after the touring shows of his youth. For the last year or so, he’s been taking the Rambles out on the road, performing a mixture of Band tunes as well as various country, blues and R&B tunes. During recent performances at JazzFest in New Orleans and Wolf Trap, Helm had shown that he can still play and drive a band and his current one is solid with guitar-slinger Larry Campbell on guitar and a bona fide jazz horn section. And if he sometimes comes up short vocally, as he did at Newport, he can rely on his daughter Amy Helm (from Ollabelle) or Teresa Williams to pick up the slack. Plus, for many of the tunes the audience was singing along loudly, so perhaps they hardly noticed that Levon could barely get above a whisper on this day. No matter. It’s the spirit of the place that buoys nearly all the performances. When Helm closed the festival with “I Shall Be Released” he brought up to the stage what seemed like every artist within a mile of the venue (well, except Thile, James and Jones, my picks), in a giant sing-along like what one would imagine at folk festivals of yore. Seeing all those young hipsters with arms around each other, you could tell that the cynical ones in the bunch may have been trying to smirk rather than smile, but even they knew they were part of something bigger, whatever you want to call it.
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Newport Folk Festival 2010
Spirit in Tradition
By Lee Mergner, Editor-in-Chief, JazzTimes Magazine
When you tell people you’re going to the Newport Folk Festival, there’s a pretty good chance that you’re going to hear, “Wow, I didn’t know you were a folkie.” You’re then put in the awkward position of explaining that you’re not really a folkie, not that there’s anything wrong with it, but that you like all sorts of roots music and the festival is about more than folk music and anyway, you like punk and hip hop too, OK?
Likewise, the festival is in the awkward position of either keeping a name that has a rich heritage and name recognition (read: brand) or jettisoning it for some sort of generic title, like Newport Music Festival or Newport American Music Festival, either of which would likely confuse people and make matters worse. In any case, it’s not your father’s (or grandfather’s) folk festival anymore and we all have to adjust our own expectations of the festival, which has evolved from a seminal folk festival into one of the great roots music festivals in the world, held on the first weekend of August every year on the grounds of Fort Adams state park. The genres represented this year, as in most recent years, included blues, bluegrass, country, rock, R&B, gospel and even a little jazz.
Indeed, many of the younger artists performing at the festival, including Chris Thile (formerly of Nickel Creek, now with the Punch Brothers) and Jim James of My Morning Jacket (appearing as Yim Yames, solo artist) made a point (or two or three) to say that they were honored to be there and that they felt as if they were treading on hallowed ground. The ground may be hallowed but, like the music, the audience is not the same as it was 40 years ago or even 10 years ago. Under the guidance of festival booker Jay Sweet, the programming has tilted more and more to include younger artists who don’t let their love for traditional forms stop them from mashing the genres up in modern ways. And the crowds are decidedly younger. As a 50-something baby boomer, I was more often the exception rather than the rule.
There were many performances this exceptional old man enjoyed at Newport this year. I arrived about halfway through the actor/banjoist Steve Martin & the Deep Canyon Rangers concert at the International Tennis Hall of Fame and was very disappointed for what I may have missed because Martin’s onstage patter and introductions recalled the brilliant wit and timing of the stand-up comic he used to be. It’s easy to forget that he retired from that racket about thirty years ago when he was still on top of his game. Bluegrass is clearly something he does for fun to break up the tedious work of film acting, but I wouldn’t mind if he did quit his day job. They even closed with a bluegrass rendition of “King Tut.” Now that’s entertainment.
Jim James, or whatever he may have been called on the bill, was a ubiquitous and supportive presence at the festival. Besides performing an acoustic set of material from My Morning Jacket and his solo work, James sat in with at least five other groups, playing bass or singing harmonies, and could also be found to the side of many a stage, listening intently and respectfully to his peers and idols. My Morning Jacket fans may have found his solo performance a bit too emo-ish, but James seemed mostly to be caught up in the unique spirit of the place and time. Dressed on both days in a three-piece suit and tie, with wayfarer shades, James evoked cool even when sweating in the summer heat. His recent recording and tour with the Preservation Hall Jazz Band was reprised here as he sat in for some jazz crooning with that trad jazz band on one of the side stages. Their mutual affection has become palpable.
James may well have been the most famous musician there all weekend, but as he strolled from stage to stage or wandered around in the huge backstage area inside the fort, his only entourage were friends, fellow musicians and the occasional well-wisher or autograph seeker. It was disappointing that he didn’t get to sit in with the festival closer, the Levon Helm Band, given that MMJ was clearly influenced by the Band and they did “It Makes No Difference” on a recent Band tribute album. Still, on the closing performance on Saturday evening, James did sit in with John Prine, dueting with the noted singer-songwriter on a few tunes, and the two happen to share a passion for the problems of the coal country of Kentucky and its environs. After seeing James engaged with nearly every aspect of the festival, I had to wonder if it was time for James to consider curating his own festival. He’s passionate, knowledgeable and committed with an affinity for nearly every form of American roots music. James is no self-absorbed indie-rocker, not that there’s anything wrong with that.
Spirit in Tradition
By Lee Mergner, Editor-in-Chief, JazzTimes Magazine
When you tell people you’re going to the Newport Folk Festival, there’s a pretty good chance that you’re going to hear, “Wow, I didn’t know you were a folkie.” You’re then put in the awkward position of explaining that you’re not really a folkie, not that there’s anything wrong with it, but that you like all sorts of roots music and the festival is about more than folk music and anyway, you like punk and hip hop too, OK?
Likewise, the festival is in the awkward position of either keeping a name that has a rich heritage and name recognition (read: brand) or jettisoning it for some sort of generic title, like Newport Music Festival or Newport American Music Festival, either of which would likely confuse people and make matters worse. In any case, it’s not your father’s (or grandfather’s) folk festival anymore and we all have to adjust our own expectations of the festival, which has evolved from a seminal folk festival into one of the great roots music festivals in the world, held on the first weekend of August every year on the grounds of Fort Adams state park. The genres represented this year, as in most recent years, included blues, bluegrass, country, rock, R&B, gospel and even a little jazz.
Indeed, many of the younger artists performing at the festival, including Chris Thile (formerly of Nickel Creek, now with the Punch Brothers) and Jim James of My Morning Jacket (appearing as Yim Yames, solo artist) made a point (or two or three) to say that they were honored to be there and that they felt as if they were treading on hallowed ground. The ground may be hallowed but, like the music, the audience is not the same as it was 40 years ago or even 10 years ago. Under the guidance of festival booker Jay Sweet, the programming has tilted more and more to include younger artists who don’t let their love for traditional forms stop them from mashing the genres up in modern ways. And the crowds are decidedly younger. As a 50-something baby boomer, I was more often the exception rather than the rule.
There were many performances this exceptional old man enjoyed at Newport this year. I arrived about halfway through the actor/banjoist Steve Martin & the Deep Canyon Rangers concert at the International Tennis Hall of Fame and was very disappointed for what I may have missed because Martin’s onstage patter and introductions recalled the brilliant wit and timing of the stand-up comic he used to be. It’s easy to forget that he retired from that racket about thirty years ago when he was still on top of his game. Bluegrass is clearly something he does for fun to break up the tedious work of film acting, but I wouldn’t mind if he did quit his day job. They even closed with a bluegrass rendition of “King Tut.” Now that’s entertainment.
Jim James, or whatever he may have been called on the bill, was a ubiquitous and supportive presence at the festival. Besides performing an acoustic set of material from My Morning Jacket and his solo work, James sat in with at least five other groups, playing bass or singing harmonies, and could also be found to the side of many a stage, listening intently and respectfully to his peers and idols. My Morning Jacket fans may have found his solo performance a bit too emo-ish, but James seemed mostly to be caught up in the unique spirit of the place and time. Dressed on both days in a three-piece suit and tie, with wayfarer shades, James evoked cool even when sweating in the summer heat. His recent recording and tour with the Preservation Hall Jazz Band was reprised here as he sat in for some jazz crooning with that trad jazz band on one of the side stages. Their mutual affection has become palpable.
James may well have been the most famous musician there all weekend, but as he strolled from stage to stage or wandered around in the huge backstage area inside the fort, his only entourage were friends, fellow musicians and the occasional well-wisher or autograph seeker. It was disappointing that he didn’t get to sit in with the festival closer, the Levon Helm Band, given that MMJ was clearly influenced by the Band and they did “It Makes No Difference” on a recent Band tribute album. Still, on the closing performance on Saturday evening, James did sit in with John Prine, dueting with the noted singer-songwriter on a few tunes, and the two happen to share a passion for the problems of the coal country of Kentucky and its environs. After seeing James engaged with nearly every aspect of the festival, I had to wonder if it was time for James to consider curating his own festival. He’s passionate, knowledgeable and committed with an affinity for nearly every form of American roots music. James is no self-absorbed indie-rocker, not that there’s anything wrong with that.
Likewise, it was also disappointing that soul and R&B dynamo Sharon Jones didn’t sit in with Helm. The woman could sing the phone book and make it sound funky. Her set on Saturday with the Dap-Kings gave the festival crowd a lift. People come to the folk festival for the lighter acoustic fare but yet they always respond to energy, such as the earthy yet electric kind that Jones and company stir up. Watching her with her soul revue band, you feel transported back to the hey-day of Stax and Muscle Shoals, when the funk was both new and raw. The Dap-Kings’ music is not really new, but since nobody else does it now, or at least does it so well, it sure seems new.
Other highlights included: an emotional and often beautiful set from the Low Anthem, who only a few years before had been working on the grounds picking up garbage; a great side-stage performance by the Punch Brothers, a virtuoso “newgrass” outfit who have honed their ensemble playing and stagecraft so the packed crowed were always in their thrall; a stirring set from The Swell Season which is basically Glenn Hansard, with support from Marketa Irglova (his co-star from Once film) and at this gig, his former band, The Frames. The effusive Hansard is never shy about showing his influences and Newport’s spirit seemed to take hold of him, though perhaps he was thinking of Woodstock. He dedicated one hard-strumming tune to Richie Havens (who played earlier), quoting “Freedom,” and during another original he sang “Rain on me” ala Daltrey, and he also performed Van Morrison’s “Into the Mystic.” The energetic and heartfelt singer did sit in later with Helm for the obligatory “The Weight,” along with Havens (who struggled to read and sing the lyrics). He looked like he had just won the lottery.
Levon Helm is in the midst of a heroic and triumphant comeback from throat cancer, bankruptcy and god knows what else. A few years back he started performing gigs at the barn/studio attached to his house in Woodstock, inviting special guests and calling the shows “Rambles” after the touring shows of his youth. For the last year or so, he’s been taking the Rambles out on the road, performing a mixture of Band tunes as well as various country, blues and R&B tunes. During recent performances at JazzFest in New Orleans and Wolf Trap, Helm had shown that he can still play and drive a band and his current one is solid with guitar-slinger Larry Campbell on guitar and a bona fide jazz horn section. And if he sometimes comes up short vocally, as he did at Newport, he can rely on his daughter Amy Helm (from Ollabelle) or Teresa Williams to pick up the slack. Plus, for many of the tunes the audience was singing along loudly, so perhaps they hardly noticed that Levon could barely get above a whisper on this day. No matter. It’s the spirit of the place that buoys nearly all the performances. When Helm closed the festival with “I Shall Be Released” he brought up to the stage what seemed like every artist within a mile of the venue (well, except Thile, James and Jones, my picks), in a giant sing-along like what one would imagine at folk festivals of yore. Seeing all those young hipsters with arms around each other, you could tell that the cynical ones in the bunch may have been trying to smirk rather than smile, but even they knew they were part of something bigger, whatever you want to call it.
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