Nobody’s ever said the 52nd time is the charm, but for the first time in it’s rich history, the 2011 Newport Folk Festival was completely sold-out in advance. As my car crawled into Fort Adams State Park, I noticed several hopeful festival-goers holding hand made signs which read “Need One” while I overheard a few unscrupulous scalpers barking out exhorbitant prices. But that’s to be expected for such a hot ticket featuring a well balanced line-up of relevant musicians, both old & new.
The sun was cooking as I joined a few friends at the front of the Quad Stage for The Felice Brothers set. Known for a rowdy, gritty & raucous live show, perhaps better suited for a bar, I was curious as to how the band would come off to a overwhelmingly sober crowd baking beneath the intense rays of the noontime sun. The band, likely aware of their surroundings, started off pretty mellow, letting the crowd acclimate to the heat and take in a cool ocean breeze before they started to bring a heavier sound ushered in by a sample of Neil Young’s “Powder Finger.” Violinist Greg Farley accompanied drummer Dave Turbeville, pounding away on the tom while Ian & James Felice and bassist Christmas Clapton traded songs and led the crowd through sing-alongs spanning most of their catalog. It didn’t take long before the folk-rock quintet had us forgetting about the sunny ocean-breezy undertones and transformed the early afternoon into a sweaty, scorching primal stomp. Mid-set, Ian addressed the crowd, “It’s good to celebrate music. It’s affected our lives and pretty much everyone who exists.”
I was resolved to catch the entire Felice Brothers set, afterwards, I needed to catch my breath and remember to hydrate. A few of my technologically savvy friends had informed me via the Newport Folk Fest iPhone app that the Low Anthem would be playing a surprise set at the Lego Duplo Kid's Zone after the Felice set. I found myself a drink and afforded myself a few minutes in the shade before making my way over. Sadly, I completely missed the four song set and I was quickly reminded of the summer music festival rulebook:
1) keep drinking water
2) you just can’t see everything.
While I was licking my wounds and admiring the endlessly crowded path to the beer garden, Gogol Bordello began their set of what sounded to my ears like Eastern European Gypsy Rock. “Tribal Connection” was exactly that, with the crowd bouncing, clapping & surfing, prompting front man Eugene Hutz to playfully chastise the blanket & chair side of the crowd, “this music is not for laying down type of people.”
I then took the time to really enjoy the lay of the land. Aside from world class music and 10,000 sun-soaked dancing music lovers having themselves a blast, the venue is one of the main attractions. Set on the Newport harbor, you’re surrounded by water and boats full of people enjoying the scene. Off in the distance is the beautiful Newport Bridge. As you work your way through the vendors selling everything from concert merchandise to falafel to hand drums, you’ll come to the Harbor Stage, the smallest of the three. From there you walk through a short tunnel and you’re in the interior of Fort Adams (established in 1799) which will bring you to the Quad Stage, as beautiful as the rest of the venue. Surrounded by stone walls overgrown with brush and wild flowers, it’s a perfect and peaceful setting to catch a set of music.
It was here that I caught the end of the Freelance Whales and I was able to reconnect with my friends who were scattered about for the start of the highly anticipated Delta Spirit set. The group is from Long Beach, California and represents part of the younger movement of folk-infused indie bands that populated much of the weekend. The band delivered a high energy electric set which featured such theatrics as the band banging on a trashcan lid. Frontman Matthew Vasquez encouraged those seated in the tent to stand up and dance. It was becoming obvious this was a recurring theme. And it was a good theme, as the crowd took note and girls in summer dresses twirled in the open fields.
After Delta Spirit, I took the opportunity to catch a break and grab a beer and a bite to eat in the media tent where plenty of the artists were just strolling around, taking in the scene and doing brief collaborations behind an ice cream truck. The Felice Brothers were sitting on the grass underneath the media tent quietly jamming amongst themselves. M. Ward walked by. I saw a few of the Trampled By Turtles just hanging out, a day early for their Sunday set. It was surreal and obvious that this festival is every bit as enjoyable for the artists as it is for the fan.
I made my way over the harbor stage and caught the second half of The Devil Makes Three set. The three piece which I’ve seen described as “folk punk” featured Pete Bernhard on guitar, Lucia Turino on upright bass and Cooper McBean playing both guitar and banjo. The tent was overflowing and the aisle was full of dancers. As I’d been in the sun for most of the day, I decided it would be OK if I was lame and sat down in a chair by the side of the stage. I figured I’d just saunter off in embarrassed defeat if the band singled me out to dance. I might have been a bit worn down by this point, but the music was infectious and even a haggard man like myself couldn’t resist stomping my feet in time. It didn’t take long before Devil Makes Three had me re-energized for the final acts of the day.
At this point, it’s the troubling festival question, “Who do I see now?” Opinions are always divided amongst friends and shaky plans to meet up afterwards are made, all participants knowing full well it’s just not gonna be easy to find each other amongst the 10,000 person exodus. The final choice was between The Decemberists, who were headlining the Saturday slot on the main stage, folk legend Ramblin’ Jack Elliott, a member of the Newport Folk Festival old-guard or Mavis Staples, the legendary soul-singer of The Staples Singers fame.
It’s an easy choice for me. I’m always going to lean towards an R&B, funk & soul legend so I made the trek back to the Quad. Joined by Decemberists frontman Colin McCoy, Mavis opened with “The Weight” which had a friend of mine commenting that too many people cover the classic. And while this may be true, Mavis performed this with The Band for “The Last Waltz” so quite simply, she wins. Mavis can do whatever she wants. The 72 year old legend looked and sounded great with a high energy set featuring classic covers such as “Lovelight” and the 1972 number one single, “I’ll Take You There.”
On my way out of the Mavis Staples set, I wandered by Ramblin’ Jack Elliott finishing his set with a cover of Bob Dylan’s “Don’t Think Twice It’s Alright” before abruptly ending the song voicing his frustrations with the photographers he had apparently asked not to photograph him. Giggling at the bit of grumpy old man drama I had just witnessed, I walked over and ended the day with the last 20 minutes of the Decemberists from the side of the main stage.
It had been a long and gratifying day of music in the hot sun. But by now I was looking forward to the line to get out of Fort Adams State park so I could sit in my car with the A/C blasting and get a little rest at the hotel room before unleashing myself into the Newport nightlife (such as Deer Tick at the Newport Blues Cafe). Being that it was a complete sell-out, the 2011 Newport Folk Fest had been an overwhelming success before a single note was played. All it had to do was deliver.
The weather, the appreciative crowd, the old guard and the new guard - everything contributed to an amazing day of live music that no amount of blogs, reviews or photographs (and there were plenty judging by how many people had media passes) could ever truly do the justice it deserves. It’s something you just have to experience in person. You have to breathe in the ocean air. You need to be punished by the sun. You need witness a living legend pass the torch to the next generation.
I guess for those who care, only time will tell what role this incarnation of the Newport Folk festival might play in the legacy of American music, but leaving Fort Adams that weekend, it pretty much felt like it was one for the history books.
