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Commentary
Newport Folk Festival and the art of the good surprise
Each year, deep in the darkest days of winter, I begin thinking about summer. Not in the abstract won’t-it-be-great-to-not-be-so-cold kind of way, not even in the longing-for-a-sunset-that-happens-after-dinnertime way — but concretely. I think of the last weekend of July when I will join 10,000 other music lovers at Fort Adams State Park in Newport, Rhode Island, for the Newport Folk Festival.
I think about Newport in the winter because that is when tickets for the three-day concert go on sale — while summer is still a dream and before the name of a single artist who will be performing has been announced. Those who are fortunate enough to buy tickets before they sell out (within minutes of becoming available) do so based on hope — the hope for warmer days and a musical lineup that we’ll love. Hope that, as in the famous William Wordsworth sonnet, we will be “surprised by joy,” even in the midst of all that may weigh us down outside the festival gates.
Newport Folk isn’t the only music festival that sells tickets before announcing any artists, but I don’t know of any others that make this so central to their ethos. Most of us who return each year don’t go to Newport for a particular performer; we go for a unique musical experience. And, even after the lineup is eventually announced, we know that there will be more—the festival is famous for its surprises. In 2022, the surprise appearance by Paul Simon was even overshadowed the following evening by Joni Mitchell. Each year, signs posted around the park remind concert-goers to, among other things, “be open.”
This openness creates space for all kinds of wonderful experiences, from the seemingly magical to the mundane. There’s the joy of discovering a new favorite band, as when I was first introduced to Newport’s own Laden Valley in an early set on the main stage. Or that feeling when you hear the first notes of a wished-for song, like when Jason Isbell and his then-wife Amanda Shires played a stripped-down version of “If We Were Vampires.” There are old friends you only see once a year: My wife and I go to the festival with another couple who used to live in Boston but have since moved to the Midwest — with whom we employ a tried-and-true strategy of arriving early and securing coveted space for chairs. And the more casual friends, like the one I met an academic conference nearly a decade ago, with whom I reconnected as he handed me an iced coffee from behind one of the Coffee Guy stands. And, yes, there have been plenty of magical musical surprises, from Simon and Mitchell, to Dolly Parton, Chaka Khan, and even Animal, from the Muppets, who sat in on drums with My Morning Jacket last year.
Of course, contemporary life is also full of surprises, but not always the good kind. Every time a notification pops up on my tablet’s screen, each time I open a news app or website, some new turn of events awaits, but rather than excitement, dread sets in. I often find myself thinking, What now? All the more reason to delight in a three-day hiatus where the notifications are mostly good news.
Each year, signs posted around the park remind concert-goers to, among other things, “be open.”
The festival organizers use an app to communicate with attendees, meaning that, a few times each hour, Newport Folk banners pop up with an artist announcement or timing reminder. Last year though, on the first day of the festival, Noah Kahan—then still at the start of his meteoric rise—was scheduled to perform in the afternoon. Hours before he was set to take the stage, a notification went out from the app indicating that due to a medical issue related to his vocal cords, he had to cancel. Here is where Newport Folk fest is not like real life, however.
The notification continued, “But thankfully we’ve got a friend … a legendary friend.” In trading stories, my editor here at Cog, also a Newport Folk devotee, told me she happened to be on the “beer pier” when James Taylor arrived by boat with his wife and son (“He looked like a random guy in a blue polo and sandals.”). When the festival called, he’d hopped on a boat from his summer home across the bay, in Jamestown, then was casually escorted from the dock into the Fort. On stage shortly after, Taylor said the day called for “a folk emergency.” At Newport Folk Fest, even an unfortunate surprise has a happy ending.
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Obviously, Newport Folk is, in many ways, not real life. But for a few days, thousands leave behind the responsibilities of our jobs and families and even the news cycle to listen to incredible music in a most beautiful setting. People are famously kind, the Del’s lemonade is refreshingly cold, and the vibes are overwhelmingly good. For one weekend a year, this is real life.
This year, I’m excited to see local band Guster, whom I’ve been a fan of since the late ‘90s, and Gillian Welch, whose music I’ve loved for almost as long. My musical guru friend Cal told me to see Sierra Ferrell. He’s also the one who introduced me to Adrianne Lenker. I’m most looking forward to The War on Drugs, and I’ll be praying they play “Rings Around My Father’s Eyes,” which always makes me think of my own father, who passed in 2020. As for baked-in surprises, the final act on Sunday night is billed as “Conan O’Brien & Real Musicians featuring Dawes with Jimmy Vivino & Very Special Guests.” I can only imagine, given Conan’s years in the entertainment industry, what kinds of special guests will join him on stage.
Whatever this year’s festival brings, what’s certain is that on Sunday night it will end, and the Newport Folk family will make our way back home, back to the real-real world, and all that comes with it. But, also, hopefully, we can remain open to being surprised by joy, no matter what other turns of events await us.
