I first experienced the Newport Folk Festival on my dad’s shoulders, impatient and sunburnt, completely unaware that I was seeing some of the most iconic folk performers of our time (The Indigo Girls! Joan Baez! Lucinda Williams! Patty Griffin!). I imagine toddler me spent most of her time running around, begging for Del’s (the signature frozen lemonade beverage of the fest) and throwing a few tantrums. That was long before the festival reached the sold out heyday it now enjoys. My parents describe a much more laid back experience, free of the frenzy that was palpable before the gates opened each morning of this year’s fest, as people arrived hours early weighed down with beach chairs, hoping to stake out a spot in front of their favored stages.
For those who’ve never attended NFF, it’s a sprawling three day festival that takes place at Newport’s Fort Adams, an outcropping surrounded by plenty of ocean space for those who prefer to experience the fest by boat or paddle board. There are three main stages, the central of which is the massive fort stage, with smaller stages scattered throughout where emerging artists jump in to play. There’s even a bike powered stage, where you can hop on a bike and get a front row seat to the likes of Valerie June and SistaStrings in exchange for some pedaling to keep the speakers going.
There’s a sense of whimsy and possibility to it all, and even at a festival with such a rich and layered history, I could feel a certain buoyancy in the air. Over the course of three days, the past, present, and future of folk music collided and created something new that defies categorization.
This unique combination was never more on display than on Sunday afternoon. Lana Del Ray’s performance on the fort stage drew a massive crowd. I left Lana to her summertime sadness and made my way over to the harbor stage where Dawn Landes was performing selections from The Liberated Women’s Songbook, a collection of songs centered around women’s struggles for autonomy over the course of generations. Landes covered songs spanning from the 1800s to 1970. She harmonized beautifully with Senora May as they performed ‘Which Side are You On,’ and their words felt more relevant and of the moment to me than the bigger, internet fueled indie pop act who was playing the stage on the other side of the fort wall. But that’s part of the beauty of the diverse lineup at NFF. It’s hard to believe this is the same festival where folk purists met Bob Dylan with open hostility for using an electric backing band. Maybe Willi Carlisle had the best analogy for the changing nature of the festival, “the heart’s a big tent / gotta let everybody in.”
Carlisle’s performance was the most explicitly political of the ones I got to see. He is an openly queer country artist, and didn’t hesitate in declaring that he doesn’t trust apolitical folk musicians. That they should always be writing about issues or to a specific group of people. He threw jabs at #vanlife during a song about living in his car – “Didn’t take us long to make an Instagram phenomenon out of a housing crisis.” Though clad in suspenders and a cowboy hat, Carlisle admitted he’s no cowboy. And that there are few real cowboys left, despite what modern country music may want us to believe: “Country music would be a more beautiful place if we all admitted it’s just one big drag show.” Amen to that.
Jaime Wyatt came out next, in a powder blue suit and big sunglasses, full of honky-tonk swagger as she took the stage and started with her hit, “Neon Cross.” She brought Willi out for a song, and watching two queer country performers sing together was a balm to me in a way I didn’t expect. If toddler me was blissfully ignorant of the musical genius I was witnessing at NFF all those years ago, adolescent me was similarly in the dark about my sexuality as I got into modern country music and tried to find my POV in it. I really liked Keith Urban’s “Kiss A Girl” because I wanted to be the girl he was kissing, right? Right. But here were two queer country artists whose performances didn’t necessitate any of the the mirage or complicated role play I used to contort myself into to really connect with other country artists.
Alice Phoebe Lou’s performance was another highlight for me. I had heard some of her songs before and but didn’t connect with them until I heard her sing them live in one of the most embodied and heartfelt performances of the weekend. She was practically vibrating off the stage with excitement.
As the weekend drew to a close and people tended to bad sunburns and crying children, I caught some shade next to the fort stage as Los Lobos closed their set. Once I had emerged from my lobster roll reverie, I spotted a joyful woman with a shock of white hair and brightly patterned shorts spinning an ornately designed lace umbrella as she danced. I had started the weekend thinking about my past visits to NFF, the performances and moments I expected, and as I watched her, I envisioned what future trips to Newport may look like. But then, as this festival teaches me time and time again, the not knowing is the best part.