There is a folk festival in our neighborhood this weekend. It is a two day thing. There is a bit of a buzz in the hood. A big operation. The fest took over our lakefront path. A bank of power generators, lots of fencing, big, fold-out stages, logistically a wide-ranging, quite impressive display. We walked on the periphery. Safe to say we looked like we belonged on a stage. One look at us you'd probably think: musicians. We got close to a stage on the other side of the fence and listened to some sweet harmonies, acoustic guitars and banjos. That's folk music, don't you know?!
My partner thought we should have been in the fest, we did float the idea, but I disagree. Our band has a few folk-rock elements, but really we are a gnarly beast of band that doesn't quite fit in anywhere, except in our own Private Idaho.
Later in the afternoon, we were on the other side of town playing in our own little rehearsal space with a few of our band members. It was exhilarating. We ran thru 2 hours of original music. We created our own little storm. We played to the walls. 5 musicians giving it their all.
It was so satisfying. No audience. Just us. It was a non-folk, non-fest. It was just the best. Alive in our own little world. Damn the torpedoes.