It was a difficult choice between
Big Al Anderson & the Balls (no relation, I think, to Keith and/or his balls) and Ruthie Foster, but we had already planned to see Ruthie, on my recommendation based on her amazing Blues Tent show at this year's JazzFest, by the time I became aware of the Windsor favorite son's free concert. In retrospect, we should have changed our plans. But, that's life (that's what the people say).
Off to the
CT Folk Festival & Green Expo we ventured. I'd email them about the food/drink policy and received an informative reply from Barbara Manners, its director:
 Hope you will find the others phenomenal too, but Ruthie has been a favorite of mine since I first saw her in Canmore, Alberta in the summer of 2003 or 04 (as i get older, the years tend to merge!)
if you have lawn seating $35 tickets then you need to bring chairs (low back preferably) or blankets or tarps for grass and can bring coolers and byo beer, wine etc. If you have reserved seating (we provide the chairs, closer to front) you can still bring a cooler but you won't have as much room to store it since the chairs are next to each other so i wouldn't bring anything too large that doesn't fit under your chair unless you're willing to take a chance and just put the cooler further back and go access it from time to time (i do that sometimes at festivals). Looking forward to the weekend. Barb |
Saturday's piece of the festival/expo puzzle was held at Edgerton Park, a sprawling 22-acre former Frederick Brewster 18th-century English-style estate and garden on Whitney Avenue deeded to the City of New Haven in the 1960's. It is listed on the
National Register of Historic Places. We luck out with a prized on-street parking space directly across from the park. Next is the unloading of chairs, coolers, bags; then a short walk to the entrance where we get to pay $40/ticket for lawn seating, while being bombarded with enough paper fliers to render this Green Expo a threat to U.S. forestry. On the positive side, we are all issued tiny, push-button flashlights that we can hang around our necks.
The venue is smaller and less crowded than expected. A row of merchandising and information booths lines the entrance, opening out to an expanse of well-manicured, rolling lawn. A portable band stage backs up to the Cliff Street wall of the park; rows of chairs have been placed in front and center for
preferred seating with the soundboard equipment directly behind. We unpreferred attendees are left to grab the remaining lawn spaces, which are plentiful.
Earlier in the afternoon (1pm to 4pm), there had been a free family concert featuring Yale's Tangled Up in Blue, the Ronny Cox Band and the Professors of Bluegrass. The park was then emptied and closed until 5pm, when the Professors would reappear to start the evening, paid session. The lineup:
5:00pm-5:30pm Professors of Bluegrass
5:40pm-6:10pm Allison Moorer
6:20pm-7:05pm Harry Manx
7:15pm-8:00pm Ruthie Foster
8:10pm-9:00pm Holmes Brothers
9:15pm-10:30pm Steve Earle
The Professors of Bluegrass appear shortly, but screw around with soundchecks (why, they just performed an hour ago!) before offering a variety of bluegrass styles. I, unlike any of my compatriots, like bluegrass music, albeit in small doses. I enjoy, they tolerate, the 45-minute set. I give a C+, they others give a D. Second up is
Allison Moorer, wife of Steve Earle, sister of Shelby Lynne, delivering a very pleasant acoustic set, highlighted by a duet of
Where Have All the Flowers Gone with Earle. Besides having a new CD,
Mockingbird, out, she
blogs her tour travels with hubby, Earle. All parties seem to enjoy Allison. Grade B.
It has begun to dawn on me that, being a folk festival, there are no backup musicians here (slap forehead). Uh Oh. That means Ruthie will likely (probably) have no band! A shame, for Reet, Keith, Sharie won't get to experience Ruthie's complete, unbelievable energy, although I have no doubt her performance will satisfy. The breaks are brief, limited to announcements by an NPR-ish gentleman to fill out questionnaires, visit booths, buy a ticket for a guitar raffle. The Canadian folk/bluesman,
Harry Manx, precedes Ruthie. Seated on a stool, playing an assortment of guitars/banjos, Manx charms us with his take on the blues and an offbeat sense of humor. Keith offers that Manx would be great to hear in a small club somewhere. We give him an A.
Finally, time for Ruthie. Per her
website bio, Foster,
...by pretty much anyone else’s standards, had already been soaring for years. Since returning to her native Texas in the mid-’90s after a period of walkabout that found her touring with the U.S. Navy band Pride (“We were bad ass!”) and even spending a few years in New York City under contract to Atlantic Records (“I think they were looking for Anita Baker meets Tracy Chapman,” she muses. “I sent a headshot to my dad, and he said, ‘Who is this white woman with my baby’s nose?”), Foster quickly established herself as one of the acoustic music world’s brightest stars. From the Kerrville Folk Festival to Austin City Limits to stages all across North America and Europe, she was winning thousands of new fans a night and selling a staggering average of 100 CDs per show. At a festival in Canada, she even broke Ani DiFranco’s record by selling 1,000 CDs in a single day. (“I love Canada,” laughs Foster.) All those records carried considerable critical acclaim, too, especially her last two, the Lloyd Maines-produced Runaway Soul and the live Stages. Both live and on disc, Foster mixed contemporary folk with old-school gospel and blues with dazzling efficiency, showcasing a powerhouse voice that drew more favorable comparisons to the likes of Ella Fitzgerald and Aretha Franklin than the poor girl knew what to do with. You can still hear traces of that Foster on her new album — most notably in the rootsy fun of “Beaver Creek Blues,” the gospel revival spirit of “Mama Said” and the dark, stomping a cappella thunder of the Son House cover “People Grinnin’ In your Face.” But Papa Mali had an entirely different kind of Ruthie Foster sound in mind when recording commenced at Austin’s Congress House Studio, and Foster was delighted to discover that his vision tapped deep into her own roots as a music lover. Together with a crack band including drummer George Sluppick (Mofro), bassist Glenn Fukunaga (Dixie Chicks, Terri Hendrix) and Hammond B3 player Anthony Farrell (Greyhounds), they set out to make an honest to goodness classic soul album. The kind that, in a different era, with a different singer, could just as easily have been called The Phenomenal Sam Cooke.
She strolls out onto the stage, smiling broadly. "I like to mix a little gospel with my blues," she quips. "I'm blessed being sandwiched between Harry Manx and Steve Earle and the Holmes Brothers, Allison Moorer, too. So many great people here today!" Foster has a strong, expressive voice, but she shows it off with restraint. She samples tunes from her
The Phenomenal Ruthie Foster including Son House's
People Grinnin' in Your Face, Lucinda Williams'
Fruits of My Labor and her own
Heal Yourself as well as
Travelin' Shoes and
Woke Up this Mornin' from her 2002
Runaway Soul CD. The set was over in short order. Jeez. Solid A+ despite the lost opportunity for the others to hear her with a full band.
Please let me know, should I stay or should I go? It's after 8:30 now. As we wait for the Holmes Brothers, Sharie searches for some warmth, in the absence of Keith, she looks to purchase a long-sleeved tee shirt from the vendors, but finds none. Ruthie Foster is at the CD table signing copies of her CD's. I've already got her latest and ask her if
Runaway Soul is available. A quick inquiry yields a no, so I thank her and mention her fabulous show at Jazz Fest. "What a wonderful time there," she replies, smiling. We reassemble for the Holmes Brothers, who, according to our program, are "one of today's great blues groups, their music mixes soul, blues, gospel, R&B and country into a sound that Billboard Magazine has described as
utterly astounding and the NY Times calls
deeply soulful, uplifting and timeless. Reet doesn't like them at all and Sharie is soon calling them
something her parents would listen to. They are a guitar/keyboards, bass, drums trio of older gents who sing the blues in gospel-type harmonies. I want to like them, but quickly become a bit distracted, although I disagree with the majority and like their gospel finale. Sorry, a Grade D for the Brothers.
Steve Earle is the real deal, a modern revolutionary who has lots of critics and passionate fans on his side, and I admit I haven't given him a sustained listen, but I've never been able to really get into him. Saw him live once before at the Newport Folk Festival, where he joined Lucinda Williams on a couple songs prior to his own set. A well-lubricated Williams sent him off with a legendary shout to the crowd, "Hey, y'all, let's give it up for Steve Fuckin' Earle!" But after two songs, I liked
Christmas in Washington (Come Back, Woody Guthrie), nods all around indicated we were out of there! So we packed eveything up, leaving a pile of paper goods, plastic and beer cans for the organizers to pick up later. (Just kidding, a little "green" joke!)
Not a bad concert, just one of unfulfilled expectations. I wonder how Big Al was?
Performers have needs, too.
Some in the crowd sought attention.
The champagne reception was at 5:30, so an early start from the suburbs. We dressed for the occasion... D in vaguely retro pink and black, me in generic Ivy-League-guy Brooks Brothers and bow tie. Photographer from some obscure publication took our picture...hey, we were looking good....and a woman came up to D and whispered, "that outfit fits you perfectly." No s--- lady. Big crowd at the reception, from blue jeans to tuxes, marginal food, plenty of champagne, but a little early for that.
.jpg)
.jpg)
