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Early in the summer of 2022 I saw an online posting about the NL Folk Festival; a “save the date” sort of announcement that was fairly short on information. “How cute,” I thought (overtly smugly) as I wrote it down in my calendar. I don’t know why I automatically assumed it would be some piddly sort of affair tall on local ugly stick players and short on tall talent, but like I say: I was clearly feeling more than a little smug. And whattya know, when they finally announced the acts I was actually pretty impressed.
Not that there were any Bruce Cockburns on the list or anything (though he had played the NL Folk Festival a few years earlier) but I was definitely interested in one of the three nights. When July 9th came around I woke up eagerly anticipating m’lady’s noontime return from a work trip in Ontario. Here was the plan: I would swing into Town a bit early and run some Townie errands before meeting her at the airport. Then we would spend the afternoon gaping at antique cars at the 27th annual Hickman’s Auto Show, find somewhere for dinner and end up at Bannerman Park for an evening of festivaling.
Here’s what actually happened: I spent the bulk of the afternoon tracking m’lady’s delayed and redelayed connecting flight until it was finally cancelled altogether, at which point I raced into Town. I made it in time for a brisk trot through the rather impressive car show before running just my most pressing of errands and swinging by Starbucks, where I used their free wifi to confirm that m’lady’s new rebooked flight was indeed going to be late as well. I grabbed her a cup of wakeup juice and lackadaisically booked it to the airport, where the prime directive was ultimately achieved. We hugged, smooched, and bee-lined to the festival grounds.
Which were quite impressive.
Neither of us had been to Bannerman Park before but you couldn’t ask for a nicer setting for a folk festival. Soft grass, plentiful tress, good sightlines, friendly nonintrusive staff and a very pleasant collection of music fans young and old were de rigueur. We plunked ourselves down near the back of the lawn and enjoyed the first band of the evening* The Salt Beef Junkies. I first became aware of TSBJ when they appeared on an episode of Newfoundland’s very own home renovation television show Rock Solid Builds. That chance occurrence seemed to have launched a bit of a career for the young trio, spreading their name throughout the island and landing them festival slots all over the place.
The Junkies are young; the guitarist is fifteen, the accordion player is thirteen (though he looks old enough to own a bar) and his nine-year-old brother plays the bodhran. Given the instrumentation it will come as little surprise to learn that the Junkies play traditional three-minute Newfoundland I’s the B’ys instrumental jigs and reels, and they do. And what could be more Newfoundland than ending their set with Sweet Caroline? Nothing, and they did that too. Good band.
Next up was a quartet called Fretboard Journey, also known as: the act I had come to see. The group consists of four Newfoundland guitar playing legends: 1) a gypsy-jazz guitar player from Carbonear named Duane Andrews that I had been hearing about ever since I moved to Newfoundland, 2) a stellar Nashville-style country guitarist named Craig Young whom I had met by chance on my second visit to the tiny outport village of Francois, where we had spent a fantastic afternoon jamming, 3) the province’s most legendary living guitar picker Sandy Morris, who started his career alongside the great Ron Hynes in the Wonderful Grand Band and who has been ubiquitous in the Newfoundland music ever since, and 4) a guy whom I had never seen nor heard of before.
And man, they were awesome! M’lady and I repositioned ourselves to the very front of the lawn for their set and my attention was riveted throughout. It was mostly instrumental and there were a plenty of solos being traded off and it was nothing short of perfectly delicious. I tell you, Craig’s tone on his Martin D28 was like warm honey dripping from a rainbow. It was soft, emotive, articulate, and brilliant. And Duane Andrews…what a player! Though he kept his Django love mostly up his sleeve it trickled out in a steady stream of influence every time he went up the fretboard. Now, Sandy Morris is a fingerstyle wizard in the same way that Cockburn is – understated and decidedly unflashy – but his fretboard choices on this night allowed him to easily sit toe-to-toe with the flashy guys. Then there was that fellow over on stage left: a fantastic player named Gordon Quinton who was utterly unknown to me and m’lady but was obviously very well known to everyone else on the big lawn. So much in fact that the moment Fretboard Journey ended their set the festival organizers rushed onstage and spent the next half-hour outlining Quinton’s extensive career and presenting him with the Folk Arts Society Lifetime Achievement Award.
Shows what I know.
After the presentation the MC told us to “put our dancing shoes on” in anticipation of the next act, a First Nations artist from Sept-Îles, Quebec named Shauit. We didn’t know what the MC was talking about at first: Shauit’s first three songs were lethargic, morose native chants accompanied by the slow steady beating of a hand drum. But then he was joined by a crackerjack rhythm section and yeah, things got pretty damn dancy after that! Well, not for us….we listened peripherally while we perused the booths (I bought a Craig Young album on vinyl) and scoped out a patch of grass back at the back to sit on. Good set though.
The final two acts were Rose Cousins (from PEI methinks) and local St. John’s legends The Once, both of which were super pro, high-quality, and quite boring. I’m sure it was us and not them: m’lady and I (especially m’lady) are just not so into female-fronted light rock/easy listening, which is a pretty accurate description of both acts. But we stuck it out almost to the end anyway before finally bailing on the last twenty minutes or so, which we spent in the pizzeria across the street getting monstrously large slices for the long drive home.
Good pizza, no moose: great evening.
*Something I thought was super-cool about the NL Folk Festival: They had a daytime schedule and an evening schedule, and tickets for each contingent could be purchased separately (or combined for a discount).
Todd Man Out 