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On August 28th, 2011 the final day of the Ottawa Folk Festival began with a series of workshops hosted by the Ottawa Folklore Centre. Ukuleles were strummed and harmonicas blown, there were cigar boxes and squeeze boxes, choirs choired, singers sang, and the wonderful Rick Fines shared the secrets of the Delta blues with all interested parties.
By the time I got down to the main stage the afternoon was well on its way and Sean McCann was plugging in his guitar ready to begin his 4:45pm set. Flanked by a pair of fellow Newfoundlanders armed to the teeth with fiddles, mandolins, dobro and flat-top guitars and even a bazouki, the man best known for his work with Great Big Sea ran the set like an east coast kitchen party, serving up seventy-five minutes of down home acoustic music to a modest but appreciative crowd.
After the set I caught up with McCann’s cracker-jack sideman Craig Young backstage*, whom I had met by chance earlier that summer on a trip to the outports of Newfoundland. As we chatted my good friend Megan Jerome happened by fresh from hosting a workshop and the three of us made our way to the hospitality tent for dinner. Soon Rick Fines joined our table, taking a breather between his back-to-back sets on the Moon Stage. Introductions were made, bread was broken, and we chatted idly about everything from plectrums to codfish. The atmosphere was relaxed and unpretentious, and the food delicious.
“I just love the vibe of a folk festival,” Megan said after dinner, handing me a cold beer and gazing at the gorgeous sunset. Between pulls on my drink I could only wistfully agree.
Before the final act of the fest Artistic Director and Ottawa Bluesfest head honcho Mark Monahan ate up some time presenting the year’s Galaxie Awards and whattya know, my friend Megan Jerome was named recipient of the Rising Star Award! She ran onstage and accepted her well-deserved honour.
When the Levon Helm Band mounted the stage it became clear why it took so long to set them up. It was with eleven players onstage that the group launched into the set opener, the The Band classic Shape I’m In. Set up at the front of the stage where the audience could fully appreciate his presence, Levon underwrote his fantastic band with a relaxed punch that was reminiscent of Charlie Watts and, well, no one else.
(The irony of having the man who helped define Dylan’s blasphemous electric sound make the folkfest circuit is barely worth mentioning in this day and age. Folk music is no longer a measure of decibels, guitar construction or electrical current, but rather a measure of musicianship and integrity, two elements Levon Helm [1940-2012] possessed inherently.)
Aside from being the backbone of one of rock’s most legendary ensembles, Levon played with a feel that was indescribable, intangible, and widely sought. He was one of a very small number of drummers in this category, and this allowed Helm to surround himself with some very talented musicians. When Levon took the mic early in the set for Ophelia his voice showed strains, as it occasionally did since recovering from vocal chord surgery in 2009. No matter, with a band like his the negative was turned into a positive as the astute players maneuvered gracefully and harmoniously to smooth out the song and bring it to the anthemic crescendo that it deserved, turning a potential rough patch into a set highlight.
That is, after all, what good bands are supposed to do.
While musical director and guitar player extraordinaire Larry Campbell was nothing short of a fretboard titan he deftly spread the focus around the stage, keeping an eye on their road manager when he sat in on drums for Deep Elem Blues and running interference when the stage swelled to a barely manageable fifteen players for the set-ending crowd favouriteThe Weight, which featured Chris Brown on B3 organ and Howard Johnson (not the hotel) on tuba.
When the lights came on to announce the end of Levon Helm’s set the world seemed to get just a little colder. Chairs and concert blankets got folded, ready to be put away until the following summer, as with the end of the Ottawa Folk Festival comes the end of the Ottawa festival season itself. Summer lasted just long enough it seems; jackets and sweaters were donned for the ride home, a sure sign that autumn and then (egad!) winter was looming.
I mounted my bike for a final roller-coaster ride down the dark pathway away from Hog’s Back Park, an easy and meditative glide along a river, a canal, and through about a half-dozen leafy parks.
*It was a fun surprise when a friend of mine who volunteered at the festival pulled up in his golf cart and said, “Sean McCann’s guitar player just randomly asked me if I knew who you were. I told him I did and he asked how he could get in touch with you. I told him that you were probably onsite and he sent me to look for you. Hop in!”
Todd Man Out 