Newport… Winnipeg… Big Muddy… Old Songs…. Fine folk music
festivals each (though Newport is way too pricey), but ask me to list my
favorite and the old Massachusetts seaport town of New Bedford goes straight to the top. Held each year on the weekend
of (or just after) the Fourth of July, New Bedford is a bargain extraordinaire.
Tell me where else you could see Garnet Rogers and Patty Larkin for two and a
half days for $30. (A one-day pass is just $20.) Rogers and Larkin were 2012
headliners, sort of. One of the glories of New Bedford is that everybody gets a
star turn or two. Plus your armband gets you access to seven stages. As always,
it means you’ll hear some folks whose work you didn’t know very well but will
be sure to check out in the future.
Here are some of my impressions from the weekend of July
6-8. Fell free to post your own comments on the forum if you were lucky enough
to attend this year’s events.
Let’s start with this: Patty
Larkin is a goddess. She looks amazing at age 61, sounds fabulous, and
plays guitar like her hands are on fire. The Custom House tent was packed with
hundreds of folks for her headline show and each had that mix of amazement and
ecstasy on their face as Larkin made her way through some old and future
favorites. Garnet Rogers, on the other hand, was very subdued and was content
to be more of a storyteller. The material, to be honest, sounded a bit mailed
in, though his wit and irreverence were fine-tuned.
Watch out for Annalivia,
a Boston-based quintet that blends Irish, traditional, and Appalachian
material. They’ve seemed a bit tepid in the past, but they were clicking on all
cylinders at Summerfest and made a lot of new fans. Here’s hoping they build
off that energy.
If anyone doesn’t know the pure joie de vivre of Benoit
Bourque, check him out immediately. Benoit has been playing, clogging,
singing, and joking his way in every heart he touches between Quebec and New
Bedford since the first Summerfest 16 years ago; this time he showed up with
his son, Antoine, a peach of an accordionist who didn’t fall very far from the
family tree.
It was wonderful to see so many younger performers like
Antoine in New Bedford. It’s not fair to hold them to the same standards as
seasoned vets, but keep your eyes peeled for the Cape Breton sisters Cassie and Maggie MacDonald. Another
Canadian act on the rise is the duo Dala.
In keeping with the youth theme, there’s Seth Glier, he of a falsetto/tenor voice reminiscent of a cross
between Ellis Paul and young Billy Joel. At age 22 he already has a Grammy
nomination under his belt. Think he might have a promising future? (My advice:
Lose a few syrupy love songs and add some more grit.) 
Pete and Maura
Kennedy delivered my favorite performances of the weekend. Pete is a
virtuoso guitar player and Maura an accomplished vocalist. Their mix of
straight-up folk, rockabilly, country, and urban folk rock offers something for
every taste. I was especially enamored by how well Pete orchestrated the
workshops he headed. These folks are always on
when they take the stage, but even though you have trouble not looking at them, they play without ego and seek to involve
everyone.
It’s always hard to take in everything at a festival.
Although I didn’t get to hear tons of their stuff, I enjoyed dipping into
performances by squeeze box demon John
Whelan, the eclectic blues, etc. of Pumpkin
Head Ted, the dynamic folk of Peter
Mulvey, the plaintive Appalachian music of Molly Andrews, the booming voice of shanty singer Ian Robb, and the songwriting prowess
of Andrew Calhoun and Rod MacDonald. Another nice find was
the Quebecois band Raz de Marée.
That translates “Tidal Wave,” but the lineup actually favors subtle tunes and
complex arrangements over kitchen dance tempos.
Every year I discover someone whose music was unfamiliar to
me. This year it was Zoë Lewis, an
offbeat woman from England who now resides in Provincetown. Some reviewers use
the term “vaudeville” to describe her act, and it’s apt. You never know what
Ms. Lewis will do–sing a poignant café-jazz-flavored homage to her mother,
burst into scat, do a wacky ukulele-backed comic song, pick up the guitar for
some folk, or sit down at the keyboards for some classic jazz. She speaks in soft English accents; she
sings in gutsy gusts. I was charmed. Apologies to other fine musicians I simply didn’t have time to check out, but thanks to the organizers, volunteers, and sponsors for allowing me to dip into so many amazing performances. --Rob Weir
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