5:00PM, settling into Stage 1
It doesn’t get any more Canadian than The Jerry Cans from Iqaluit, Nunavut. My new adopted group and I watching here at stage 1 have all joined in pure celebration. Singer Andrew Morrison asks who might like to come along for a visit in their hometown up north. The beer tent just beyond stage 1 (and who’s piped in music is always stage 1 – the general home of the Folk Fest blues) goes mad about the idea of partying with the Jerry Cans… until Morrison explains the beer there is nearly double in price. I don’t drink anymore so I would be up to the trip. For now, this respite from the politics to the south, this celebration with the Jerry Cans is the Canadian jam I’m all about. They are all inclusive, entirely talented and expressing the most wonderful Canadian ideals. And while they stress our continued reconciliation with our own indigenous population, they invite all to participate in the rhythmic conversation of their music. Plus there’s throat singing! “At Edmonton Folk Fest, everybody wins” bellows Morrison.
6:00PM, taking refuge under a shady tent, I reminisce about this morning
When I arrived on site this Saturday morning, my bright red shoes with pink and yellow striped socks caught the eye of a 4 year old girl playing with her younger sister. They are both wearing pink dresses and pink tops. Im not sure by her reaction if she is shocked to see a grown man infringing on her colour scheme or just happy to see a goofy bearded guy wearing such outlandish stuff. I pass by after giving my quick nod of hello. Hours later I take a spot on the grass at a workshop stage. I’m sitting huddled among those looking for a nice shady spot. There aren’t many where I am, so space is limited. It’s me, my girlfriend, families having lunch, what looks like an entire Legion membership…. and, only feet in front of me, those two little girls dressed in pink. I’ve switched out of my pink socks & shoes combo, so I’m safe from another round of judgement…or am I? In the midst of climbing her jungle gym dad, the older sister does a double take my way. She shoots to her feet and gives me a wild look of recognition. Quickly glancing down to where my socks used to be, her face contorts into a look of, ‘Whaaaa?’ Thoughtfulness not seen since what I imagine Einstein would appear like hard at work clings to her. Soon she turns her inquisition to a hard stare the likes of which might have her cast in Stanley Kubrick’s next film if he were still with us. After a few verses go by on stage it gets quiet enough so that I can call out to her jungle gym dad. He knows immediately what I’m going on about. “Is she giving you the stink eye?” I think so, I say as the little girl continues to give me the ‘stink eye’ for another minute or two. As we get up to leave, the girls and I trade fist bumps.
Sunday 12:00PM, entering park for final day
Arriving at the final day of the event I feel like the walking dead. The good kind mind you but to put it bluntly I might have stayed home any other Sunday if it wasn’t for the Folk Fest. Our lotto ticket was called 8th today. Spirits were not as high as yesterday to say the least. Last night’s tarp placement was as close to perfect as I could hope for. I wish we hadn’t had to move it at all. Thunderstorms are called for tonight. I wonder if we’ll even make it through the whole evening. We’ve already lost one of our core group to heat exhaustion today. Maybe being called upon 8th won’t be so bad after all. Our flight back home is at 8:30am tomorrow - the day I traditionally sleep off my Folk Fest sun, lack of sleep, and having been overly social. I’m only social in festival scenarios and where free food is offered, so Folk Fest is a bit of a marathon. William Bell’s soulful blues ring through the smoke muted sun and I forget myself for a while. His rendition of Hard to Handle knocks me on my butt and I begin to wonder what I might miss if we leave the grounds early tonight.
4:30PM, at stage 6 with half the festival gathering
Half the festival goers may be here at stage 6 to see Dallas Green, Jose Gonzales, Marlin Williams and the Unthanks. I have forgotten my long sleeves for shade on our main tarp so I am currently cooking in my self made rain jacket covering. Everyone here seems happy to be listening to the introspective songs of City & Colour, the virtuous classical guitar of Jose Gonzales and the buttery voice of Marlin Williams. The Unthanks’ traditional sounds, mixed with a sonic wall of live instrumentation would give Radiohead and their unorthodox ‘technology pop’ a run for its money. I’m gobsmacked. Except for the heat, stage 6 is the place to be right now. Dinnertime soon. Will the storm hold out or will we dine offsite and bid adieu to this years fest?
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