Fall 2018 — 7E
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Music and magic at the first night of the 41st Annual Ann Arbor Folk Festival
On Friday, Jan. 26, Ann Arbor
locals and residents from the
far corners of the mitten state
alike flocked to the University’s
own Hill Auditorium for the 41st
Annual Ann Arbor Folk Festival.
Being so close to the festival, in
geographical terms, might make
University of Michigan students
write the event off as a minor
happening, but the festival is, in
reality, central to the Ann Arbor
music scene. At its core, Folkfest,
as it’s often amicably referred
to, serves two express purposes.
First, it is a fundraiser for (and
by) The Ark, a local venue and
hub for all things folk. Second,
it draws people from all over the
Midwest together to partake in
an oft-underappreciated genre.
A folk festival whose headliners
include Jason Isbell and John
Prine can only be expected to
meet expectations, but Friday’s
portion of the annual event far
surpassed them. While the final
act of the night was always sure
to be a success, there was never
a dull moment during the night’s
earlier
performances.
Every
set was musically compelling
and honest, and a few artists
managed to touch on the current
state of affairs in a way that felt
refreshing and candid.
At half past six, as the audience
continued to fill the auditorium,
Chastity Brown took to the stage.
If the occasional usher’s light
or the murmur of conversation
were
distracting,
she
didn’t
show it, and soon after she began
playing the room fell quiet.
With
sparse
instrumentation
— acoustic and electric guitar
as well as a single bass pedal —
she set the tone for the night:
intimate,
soulful,
reflective.
Before playing her last song,
she offered her thoughts on the
past year, recounting in specific
an incident immediately before
one of her shows when a white
supremacist
approached
her,
shouting insults and threatening
violence. Though the story itself
was disheartening, Brown’s tone
during the following song was
overwhelmingly hopeful. With
the mood defined and a powerful
set delivered, she exited the stage.
One thing that we absolutely
can’t help but credit The Ark for
is their efficiency. Every year,
Folkfest
is
a
demonstration
not only of folk music and the
culture that surrounds it, but
also of entertainment at peak
efficiency. Only moments after
Brown exited and before her
applause had subsided, emcee
Joe Pug appeared stage right,
guitar and harmonica at the
ready. A talented musician in
his own right, and even more
impressive
entertainer,
Pug
kept the audience’s attention
between sets. While he played
original songs and offered his
tastefully subtle sense of humor,
stage hands and audio engineers
prepared the stage for the next
set with a degree of coordination
that could qualify as art in and of
itself.
After Brown came the duo
Dead Horses, comprised of Sarah
Vos on acoustic guitar and Daniel
Wolff on double bass. Though an
ostensibly odd pairing, the two
managed to fill the room with
their hymnal-like sound, Wolff’s
fingers dexterous on the neck of
his bass. Next was Lori McKenna,
writer of “Humble and Kind,”
which took the Grammy for
Best Country Song in 2017. Her
apparent comfort on stage was
infectious, no doubt a product of
her experience as a performer,
and the songs she performed
were influenced in part by her
five children.
Also a proud parent — though
to four rather than five —
Massachusetts-based
Stephen
Kellogg played the final set
before intermission, a rousing
romp that consisted of just four
or five songs, ones
that made me wish he
would play one or two
or five more. What
was beautiful about
Kellogg’s performance
was
his
sheer
exuberance at being
on stage. He beamed
out at the audience
with an eagerness and
thankfulness that was
reflected
perfectly
in the energy with
which he delivered his
uplifting folk-anthems.
It was hard not to be
excited both with him
and for him.
Following intermission were
JJ Grey & Mofro, a prolific group
whose performance received an
immediate standing ovation at
its conclusion. The act featured
not one but two trumpets, both
of whom played huge solos, and
John
Higginbotham
(aka
JJ
Grey) himself on harmonica.
Afterward, Jason Isbell and the
400 Unit took to the stage. Now,
although 41st anniversaries don’t
tend to be particularly notable
in and of themselves, the Folk
Festival’s 41st marked at least
one significant change. During
the final set
of the night,
several
stadium-
style
lights
came
on,
filling
the
hall
with
motion
and
colorful
patterns.
This was the
first
year
for
these
features, and
more
than
providing
pretty
visuals, they
signify growth for the festival,
and hopefully not a departure
from what has made it so near
and dear to Ann Arbor’s heart for
the past two generations.
Isbell
and
company’s
set
made the lights feel appropriate,
and
guitar
solos
abounded.
The most valuable parts of the
performance,
though,
came
between
songs,
when
Isbell
exhibited his charisma, making
well-received jabs at the kind of
people who leave the room when
he plays “White Man’s World”
and giving a nod, before his
last song, to his struggles with
alcoholism. It was the sort of
honesty that wouldn’t necessarily
be expected from a festival
headliner, even if the festival
were a folk festival in Ann Arbor,
and that’s not even mentioning
the
counterintuitiveness
of
Isbell’s decision to write and
perform a song that he knows
challenges a significant portion
of his listeners. At the end of the
night, attendees had a choice:
They could leave Hill with a
splendid night of music behind
them, memories of soaring vocals
and subtle harmonies, harmonica
solos played at a breakneck
pace and softly sung acoustic-
guitar ballads, or choose to see
a community being fostered.
Four bars of music can sound
as pleasant as you want, but it’s
seeing and knowing the human
side of it that makes those
melodies truly awe-inspiring and
that brings the folk community
together. It makes me excited
for Folkfest 2019 — even just two
days after 2018’s iteration.
SEAN LANG
Daily Arts Writer
It’s seeing and
knowing the
human side of
it makes those
melodies truly
awe-inspiring.
ALEXIS RANKIN / DAILY
ALEXIS RANKIN / DAILY