Boogie nights (page 2)
I’ve retired to the dance floor’s perimeter to take notes, but
my seductive undulations have obviously attracted attention.
A man in a Grateful Dead T-shirt is chatting me up. He looks
like a teacher, and it turns out he is one. Edmonton native
Bill Howard, 55, has been in Vancouver for 25 years but often
returns home for the festival. “You’re guaranteed to see a lot of
people you know,” he says, gesturing to a couple of chums
tearing up the turf nearby. “Good music, family, friends,” and
with that, he just shrugs as if to say, What more is there?
THE EDMONTON FOLK MUSIC FESTIVAL heads into its
29th season this summer (Aug 7-10), and if past events are
any indication, positive vibrations will return. The four-day,
37-hour music marathon in the heart of this city’s rolling river
valley starts unfolding on Thursday and Friday nights. But for
me, the ingredients don’t fully blend until Saturday morning,
when I arrive at the first small stage with a cup of coffee and the
promise of two full days of fresh and familiar sounds.
The sun climbs overhead. Hundreds of kindred spirits
sprawled on the grass display tans and tattoos under straw
hats. The speakers buzz awake — it’s Guy Clark or K’naan,
Madagascar Slim or Kathleen Edwards — and the world outside
of Gallagher Park recedes until it disappears altogether.
In its place rises Folk Fest Village where you can eat green
onion cakes all day and there’s always a chance you might run
into your favourite guitarist. Or, as was the case last year, that
he might run into you. Dan was walking with our daughters
Saturday afternoon when he spotted Greg Keelor of Blue Rodeo
heading toward him. Keelor, talking with a fetching young
woman, didn’t see Maggie at knee height and, whammo, hit her
square on the forehead with his guitar case. She started wailing,
and the conversation went something like this:
Greg: “I’m so sorry. Is she all right?”
Dan: “Oh, she’ll be fine. She gets worse hits from her sister
Daisy. Hey, that was a great workshop earlier today.”
Greg: “Uh, thanks.”
Maggie: “Waaaah! Waaaah!”
Greg: “Are you sure she’s OK?”
Dan: “Oh, yeah. It will be funny one day when I tell her she
got hit with Greg Keelor’s guitar at the folk fest.”
Greg: “Actually, it’s a bass.”
“Actually, it’s a bass.”
Every year, roughly 13,000 fans and volunteers stream
through the gates each day schlepping coolers, tarps, backpacks,
baby strollers, umbrellas, lawn chairs, blankets and
sundry other bulky outdoor accessories. (Packing for the twins
is so toilsome, I’m lucky if I leave the house wearing pants.) Site
set-up and organization have been polished to a gloss thanks to a small, diligent staff and roughly 2,200 volunteers, of which
I am one. There are 160 porta-potties, a sink station for
washing and filling water bottles and plenty of panini
sandwiches, chickpea curry and lemonade. Waste has been
dramatically reduced since 1990, when disposable plates were
replaced by a $2 deposit plate-return system, and last year,
long-time beer supplier Big Rock Brewery started serving suds
in corn-based compostable cups. In 2007, Big Rock sold roughly
50,000 beers in 27 hours.
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