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Circa 1990, I was lying on my blanket with a couple friends, about halfway up the natural amphitheater that showcases the Edmonton Folk Music Festival. The amphitheater was on the south side of the North Saskatchewan River, in Edmonton’s river valley. We could see downtown Edmonton, on the north side.
There might have been another 3,000 people there that night.
The temperature was just right. A little breeze to thwart the mosquitos. The sun was moving below the horizon, giving us a great transition from day to night. Edmonton’s skyscrapers were lighting up the background. Cars and their headlights ascending and descending the river valley roads added movement to the scene.
On stage were three folk artists — and their guitars: Guy Clark, Roseanne Cash, and Rodney Crowell. They took turns singing their own well-known tunes. They helped each other out with backup vocals and strumming, careful not to overpower the main artist of the moment. We got a natural version of their music, better than their recorded works. For 45 minutes, the big crowd was stilled. Silent. No rustling. Total attention to the music. Something wonderful happened that night. At the end of the act, my friend said, “We’re not gonna see that magic again.”
