My Memories of Not Performing at the Newport Folk Festival
Every summer, as the banners go up at Fort Adams State Park, I am swept away by nostalgia. Nostalgia for what, you ask? For my long and illustrious career of not playing at the Newport Folk Festival. It is a rarified tradition, shared by millions: the experience of hearing, reading about, or watching from afar some of the greatest musicians of our time—while I, with unmatched humility, refrained from taking the stage.
I clearly remember not being called onto stage after Joan Baez performed. The wind was howling, as is wont to do in Rhode Island. She was radiant, her voice like a bell, and I was equally radiant, though invisible to the audience, standing in line at the kettle corn tent. Nobody handed me a guitar. Nobody said, "Sir, the world needs your version of House of the Rising Sun in the key of confusion."
I did not duet with Bob Dylan in 1965 when he plugged in. No, I was not the mysterious figure urging him to "play it loud." Instead, I was quietly not present, making a sandwich hundreds of miles away. The thunderous chorus of boos? Not for me. The standing ovations that followed? Also, regrettably, not mine.
And who could forget the time I didn't share the bill with Joni Mitchell, Pete Seeger, or Arlo Guthrie? They all took the stage, reshaping American music, while I bravely continued my role as the nation's leading spectator. I clapped from my living room couch with such vigor that I risked tendonitis. Surely that counts as participation.
One summer, as Mavis Staples and Bonnie Raitt sang the blues into the dusk, I was elsewhere, nobly not performing. People may argue that absence is a void, but in my case it was a calling. By steadfastly not appearing, I gave room for legends like Odetta, Richie Havens, and Leonard Cohen to shine. Think of it as a generous act of subtraction.
Of course, the Newport Folk Festival has continued to thrive in recent years. Brandi Carlile, Jason Isbell, Nathaniel Rateliff, and Hozier have all left their mark. I, too, have left my mark—on my couch cushions, where I've sat in loyal non-performance for decades.
The experience of not performing at Newport Folk Festival is something I'll remember for all of my life. While others brought down the house with banjos and ballads, I upheld the festival's great silent counter-tradition: the art of not showing up, not tuning up, and not being introduced by the emcee.
So next year, when the lineup is announced and the world gasps at the names, remember to save a little applause for me. My absence will be louder than any amplifier.
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"Wisdom begins with wonder." - Socrates
"Learning happens thru gentleness."
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