Joshua StorieTake Two
In the first thirty minutes upon my arrival of the first day of Folk Fest, a blistering heat was met by gusts of wind and a churning storm in the distance that threatened my hopes of seeing the wonderful Shakey Graves live. However, my prayers did nothing, and the grounds were evacuated. Shakey decided to head to The Needle and myself, unknowing and three shots of vodka deep, decided to head to Black Dog. My first day ever at Folk Fest was easily not what I had hoped for.
The Friday and Sunday, however, easily made up for it. Green onion cakes, grilled cheese sandwiches, chips and dip, lemonade spiked with smuggled vodka, beer garden alcohol, the scent of weed and cigarettes on Smokers’ Hill, hippies, hipsters, friends, babies, actual cool adults. A mix of generations and cultures and style all coexisted in perfect peace and harmony for the sole purpose of having a chill time and listening to some fucking music, and it was blissful.
Friday brought me to a stage that had reggae, folk, French, and folk-rock bands all taking turns playing the music they love, which was something I never thought I’d hear consecutively, but was great because every note had the performers’ entire souls in it. Then Brandi Carlile performed on the main stage. A friend said he loves her because she doesn’t hold anything back, she hides nothing in her songs and bares her soul completely. I agreed wholeheartedly.
Sunday, the day I looked forward to the most, gave me a performance from Darlingside, a multilayered indie-folk band that I realized I had listened to before about halfway through their set. It was a wonderful surprise despite my view being obscured by a giant speaker. As we found our spots for City and Colour, murmurs of another storm were upon us, but goddamnit if we wouldn’t be able to hear and see Dallas Green’s stripped-down performance. The rain began to pour during his set, but as we were about to leave, I heard the start of “The Girl” and needed to stay. The rain was chilling, but everyone was in it together. No one sane could actually walk away from City and Colour’s mesmerizing sound.
The beauty of Folk Fest, I realized, lied deeper than in the music or the food or the people: it was this palpable energy that sprouted from the mix of all these ingredients together. Folk Fest was not meant to be merely partaken in, it was meant to be breathed in. It felt almost too simple to sum it all up and say that it was just chill vibes, but that’s the point of Folk Fest: it shows you how beautiful life can be when it’s stripped down to its elegant simplicities.
There was a girl a couple rows in front of me, before City and Colour, that was wearing one of those hoodies that says, “Still in Edmonton.” Before this weekend, I would have definitely chuckled and agreed. But it was something I remembered about that downtown skyline from the top of Gallagher Park on Friday night, where I watched thousands of candles riding the ocean of people like boats against waves, where the sun injected a purple haze across the night sky and the sweet melody of Brandi Carlile ran through the air. For the first time in a really long time I thought, “Wow, she really doesn’t know how lucky she is to be here.” Folk Fest made me believe in Edmonton again. —Zac McEachern
