Edmonton Folk Music Festival 2026 - My Three Faves

I love volunteering at Folk Fest and have done so almost e3very year they have had one since 2016, but most years, at some point, I hit a wall. And after hitting the wall, I have to actually consider if this will be my last year volunteering.

This year it was Friday. Not even a long day! Start at noon, the corral for the tarp lottery at Stage 1 is still up from the day before, no delays in marching the groups of 30 patrons on to the field so they can set up their tarps for main stage (unlike the day before as they scrambled to get more sand and rig mats laid over the soggy ground).

But it was hot. 26 degrees and I was still tired from the extensive standing Glory (my crewmate!) and I had done during the delays of the day before. I also don't think I hydrated enough; by the time the two of us marched off to the dinner line, I was a shambling wreck, cowering from the merciless sun in the shade of teh umbrella I had brought for rain.

But a great dinner (beer braised Alberta beef with garlic, Moroccan spied carrots, potatoes, three different salads) and a little time in the shade left me in a better state to see a couple of the Friday night main stage acts. We couldn't stay for Of Monsters & Men, the big draw that evening, since we had to be back on site at 6:30 the next morning, and since there is no longer a volunteer shuttle, that trip is about an hour now.

But Saturday morning was cool, and Glory and I had already decided that we would only watch a couple of afternoon shows and then head home to nap. We went to bed early and this meant we could see all the main stage acts Sunday, and even stay for the traditional singing of Ian Tyson's "Four Strong Winds" that closes out the festival.

By that point, both sleepy and exhausted, with aching feet and knowledge that my physically demanding teardown shift was a little more than 12 hours away, I was still at a point where I could say: I can't wait for next year.

So what did I like most about Folk Fest this year?

 1) The Workshops

I had wanted to see Nova Scotia storyteller Adam Baldwin in his own concert. I'd told Glory how great his stage banter was when he'd opened up for Alan Doyle at the Jube the year before, but the schedule didn't fit our needs.

So we went to a workshop called Tall Tales that included him, a trio called The Pairs and 'cosmic folk' artist Sister Ray, and it was fantastic. From his rejection of the term workshop in favour of "drinking in the kitchen" to the interactions between songs to the incidental accompaniment by the artists to the songs of others (perhaps hearing them for the first time), it was a great hour spent in the shade of Stage 7.

My favourite bit was Baldwin talking about how his tragic crime song "Lighthouse in Little Lorraine" was based on a true story, but because he could figure out neither a Nova Scotia community that rhymed with 'hashish', nor a narcotic name that rhymed with Louisbourg, he was forced to change both. And then the song got made into a movie! Which he says you can now watch on WestJet and "should be on a DVD in Giant Tiger any day now."

Similarly, the If You Could Read My Mind workshop featuring The Milk Carton Kids, Fantastic Cat, and The Brudi Brothers was full of great tunes, good humour and tremendous interaction as well.

2) My Crew

People are probably tired of hearing me quote my own maxim, "It's less about what I do and more about who I do it with," but it is true. And nowhere is is more true than when working with the Greetings East crew.

We run the tarp lottery, a somewhat arcane and counter-intuitive randomization system that allows 1000 or more dedicated patrons to enter the field prior to the public gates opening for optimal tarp placement. For our part, this includes building an enclosure (corral) that can hold 2000+ people out of fast fence, handing out 2000+ colored tags with the names of performing artists on them to the patrons as they enter, trying to keep them moving towards the back of the corral instead of crowding around the entryway, announcing an artist's name and then lining the people with matching tickets along the sidewalks up and down the neighbourhood, sometimes stretching further than three city blocks.

At the appointed time, usually 30 mins to an hour but sometimes two hours or more, some of us serve as human pylons, dividing the line into groups of thirty, then marching them through main gate and handing them off to security so they can race safely up the hill and place their tarps. 

After that, we (usually) take down the fast fence and stack it, then place our own tarps. I wouldn't call it easy, and sometimes testy patrons can make things more challenging than they need to be, but it is generally a smooth operation, and our duty is done before the first act hits the stage.

There were 19 of us this year (then team was less than a dozen when I started!), mostly ladies, all but a handful are much, much younger than me, and all of them are great. 

Different people are going to be great at different things, but there are no shirkers. Everyone understands and appreciates what we are doing and why, and we get on fabulously with all but a handful of the patrons. And even those ones should get the benefit of the doubt - who hasn't had a bad day outdoors in a crowd?

Having Glory as a crewmate in 2023 and this year has been an extra delight, and out leadership is smart, funny (like most everyone on this crew!), open minded and attentive. And they even bring cinnamon rolls and rice krispie treats for the early weekend shifts!

My crew are a big part of why I will come back next year.

3) The Music

I have been a fan of Corb Lund since 2007's Horse Soldier, Horse Soldier!, and Thursday night I finally got to see him live for the first time. He was sandwiched between two soul music acts, The Womack Sisters and Thee Sacred Souls, both of whom sounded amazing. 

Friday night we saw Irish trio Amble and enjoyed them immensely. Wonderful voices, great musicianship and tremendous stage presence from their frontman (but charm from all). Apparently when the lead singer told his family he was quitting his job as a teacher to play music full time, his father told him, "throw out the trout to catch the salmon," which is maybe the most Irish thing I have ever heard, and you can apparently see it written on a bunch of their merch.  I expect to be hearing more about them in the months to come.

Trousdale is a country/rock flavoured trio from California with a great sense of humour and absolutely heart-stopping harmonies. I am disappointed the studio version of their cover of Neil Young's "Old Man" sounds so tame compared to the version we heard on the hillside of Stage 5 that raised the gooseflesh on me.

St. Paul & The Broken Bones are hard to describe, but soul ensemble with the energy of a Gospel revival service probably comes close. Paul Janeway was perhaps the most dynamic frontman we saw all weekend. At one point he guided both the band and the audience through a 1-2-3 rhythm game ("That was good. Real good!  But we did not come all the way to Edmonton to be good. We came here to be great. And doo you know what separates the good from the great? No? FRACTIONS."), and at another, he clised ski hill on his belly. I will never miss a chance to see this group if I can help it.

At any rate, a week later the exhaustion and foot pain are forgotten and great memories of music, people and food (the volunteer kitchen still puts out simply amazing meals 3000 plates at a time!) are what remain.

I can't wait for next year! Hope to see you on the hill.

BONUS REFLECTION: THE TEEPEE TEARDOWN

At about the midway point of my teardown shift, as we used a rickshaw/wheelbarrow to move a heavy pile of fence posts and post-puller from one spot to another, someone told my crew boss Ross that the Nikawomin crew needed help taking down the 30' teepee from their cultural area.

"These three fellows would be only too happy to help," he said, before wandering off to supervise another group back of mainstage.

One of the Site Crew and a Nikamowin volunteer explained that it was not difficult work but it required multiple, steady hands and a respect for protocol. For instance, stepping over the supporting poles once they were laid down was considered disrespectful.

So began by folding the covering material onto itself, one team on each side of the opening, until it was all gathered at the back, then lowered it folded it some more and placed in on a bench someone carried over to keep it off the ground.

Then we worked as teasm to lower the various poles leaning against the tripod of lashed poles at the center. Working carefully from both a safety and respect perspective, two fellows steadied the pole while lowering it, and others like me moved to catch it once with in reach and then walk to the end until it was carryable.

At one point the volunteer showed us a "cheat" wherein you could use a still standing pole to slow the descent of one being lowered, which worked pretty well. 

Finally we steadied the legs of the tripod, lashed together at the top with a long cord, brought the three poles together one at a time, and then slowly lowered the bundle and caught it like one enormous pole.

"And that's it!" grinned the Nikamowin volunteer. "It's not hard, it just helps to have more hands."

The Site Crew worker nodded. "And you are all teepee certified now, so we'll see you next year, eh?"

And the volunteer grinned and nodded when I asked if I could put "Indigenous housing experience" on my resume.

The Teardown Shift

It takes three weeks to build the immense site for the Edmonton Folk Music Festival, and another thre weeks to tear it all down and pack it back into sea cans for storage. Folk Fest Volunteers are expected to help with teardown their first year and each alternating year thereafter, but my team (Greetings, aka the Tarp Lottery) has a plum gig where none of our shifts overlap with performances, we pitch in every single year. 

My tendency has to book the Monday off after the festival, sleep in a bit after a couple of egregiously early mornings, and then do the teardown shift on Monday afternoon, thus maximizing my use of days off from work. But it does mean I am usually pretty bedraggled and footsore when my four-hour shift begins, and this year it was beastly hot to boot.

Teardown duties for unskilled hands like myself usually involves taking down  and packing up the multitude of tents, collecting scaffolding and stage parts for later collection, and removing the perimeter snowfence.

Gallagher Park (home of the Edmonton Ski Club) is pretty big, so there is a lot of fence to take down. This involves a crew of 8-10 people first using snips to cut the top level of snow fence off of the metal posts, then rolling up that mesh (about 4' wide and up to 30' long) and zip-tying it for later collection, then repeating this process with the bottom mesh. Next, the zip ties holding the top half and bottom half of the fence posts is snipped by one person while another keeps that top post from swinging loose and clobbering another volunteer. 

The last step is using a post removal tool, a simple but clever lever sort of affair that weighs about 35 pounds to remove the 6' picket post that has been driven 2'-3' deep into the ground. This year the clips went very quickly and I knew rolling the mesh on the ground would devastate my back, so I lugged over the post remover and started uprooting them. 

It is sweaty but strangely satisfying work, especially when a stubborn post has been driven particularly deep, or into a hidden seam of clay. I got about a dozen out by myself, then another volunteer came over to assist so we could take out the other half a bit more quickly.

When I was done, our crew boss, Ross, asked how I felt about doing the opposite - with the perimeter fence down in our area, another fence was needed to keep people from wandering onto the site while disassembly continued.

I said I'd never put the posts in before, but was willing to learn, so Ross got me to grab a hardhat and ear protection, as well as the post driver. This is a capped pipe with handles that feels like it weighs about 25-30 lbs. Ross broke down the process for me - a partner holds the post in place and leans it towards you so you can put the pounder onto the end of it, you then straighten the post out to your E-W perspective  while your partner keeps an eye on the N-S angle. Then you lift the driver up a couple three fet and let it drop - no downward motion required. 

But you will need to lift that hefty bugger up and drop it about a half-dozen times per post, and there were about twenty posts to drive, each about five fet apart.

Ross went over to the crew dismantling a tent to get me a partner and came back with Sage, a girl who was maybe 15-16 years old and maybe 105 lbs counting the hardhat and water bottle. She gamely picked up the first post and leaned it over for me, and we got down to it.

By about the fourth post, my sheen of perspiration had reasserted itself, and by the tenth, I was not lifting the driver as highly nor as swiftly as I had been at the start. Sage, bless her heart, said, "if you're getting tired, we can switch out," which sounded like a grand idea.

I grabbed the next post and leaned it away from me like James Brown with a mic stand, and she boosted the driver up to chest-height, adjusted her grip and placed it onto the post. We straightened it out, and she lifted the driver, dropped it, and then repeated it with a little bit more height. 

About five posts later, the awkward driver was not coming up off her chest with its initial alacrity either, but without a word of complaint. Against my better judgement, I suggested I was probably rested enough to switch back, and so we did. 

By the time we finished, the crew attaching the mesh had caught up to us and were able to secure the new, smaller perimeter with this shorter (4' instead of 8') fence.

After a short hydration break, I was paired up with someone else to remove more posts around main stage, and that accounted for pretty much the other two hours of my shift.

The whole time working out in the 29 degree (humidex) heat, I expressed gratitude that this was not my chosen profession, and apologized to my body for what I felt was sure to be agonizing recovery the next day, or perhaps the day after. 

Surprisingly though, there was only a little bit of stiffness the following day and nearly none the day after.

But gratitude for having a desk job remained unwavering.

More Folk Than Fest

As I write this, literally thousands of people on Gallagher Hill have probably just finished singing Ian Tyson's "Four Strong Winds" to bring the 2025 Edmonton Folk Music Festival to a close. 

Not only was I not there for it, this year was a low-water mark for my participation, having only stayed for one main stage act (Aysanabee, who was wonderful).

I had a very hard time keeping my energy and mood up this year. This is probably due in part to having had a fractured molar extracted two weeks ago on Thursday, then having the resulting dry socket (ugh) treated twice last week. Don't let anyone poo-poo it, the dry socket experience is generally a miserable one.

To cap things off, I had brought clothing on the first day to sort out being cold or being wet, but was one layer shy of being okay with cold and wet. Once I established that this was my condition (midway through Aysanabee's set), I resolved to go home early to prevent getting miserable or ill early in the festival.

I didn't even bring my tarp on Friday, intending to hit the sack early so I could rise at 5 am for my volunteer shift and see all the main stage acts on Saturday night. But then I forgot to bring my tarp on Saturday, and after returning home for my traditional Folk Fest siesta, I lacked the energy to return. 

And with Glory just starting her orientation shifts (and first casual call-in), I missed having my hill-buddy with me. Hopefully she is able to get back on the team next year.

Wih rain predicted for Sunday (which turned out to be quite the deluge!), I decided this year would be less about music and more about service, and you know what? That worked out just fine.

Heading home early Thursday meant I could see Fenya for the first time in three weeks as she returned from Japan. My early morning shifts on Saturday and Sunday wern't nearly as debilitating as they have been in some prior years, with 3-4 hrs sleep at best.

Friday morning, I saw a coyote traipsing languidly through the parking lot at Re/Max Field where I catch the volunter shuttle.

The food is still amazing, especially considering they feed about 3000 per meal in what is basically an army kitchen.

And most critically, the team I work with (Greetings East) is full of great people who are easy to work with. All hackers, no slackers, and the new crew took to the work very quickly - setting up fencing for a corral for the tarp lottery, managing a crowd of up to 2000 people for a couple hours and then lining them up for three city blocks so they can get marched on to the field and place their tarps before the public gate even opens.

It's very tiring work (more so every year, it seeems!) with early hours on the weekend but that means we are done before the first acts even hit the stage - and next year I will be sure to see more of them!

Lined Up

Sure,Folk Fest is about music, obviously; but at its core it is undeniably about lineups as well.

When greeting patrons outside the corral by Stage 1 a little before 7am, I said “welcome to the first of many lines.” And it was true!

They lined up to get in the corral for the tarp lottery, where we draw tickets to determine the order they will leave the corral and line up by the sidewalks around Gallagher Park until they can place their tarp on the hill.

I follow them on afterwards, and before my tarp is tacked down, there is already a lineup of 60+ people waiting to get into the music and merch tent and pick up CDs and t-shirts and the like.

And even if that's not your speed, you will be lining up for food, to go to the bathroom, to fill up your water bottle, or, if you have the stamina (and many, many do) there is an enormous but surprisingly quick line for the beer tent.

And tonight when it is all said and done, I will join the processional of tires but happy listeners moving slowly and carefully down the ski hill, and then join another line of volunteers waiting for the shuttle to take them back to the parking lot.


But until then, this is the lineup occupying the most space in my mind:

Folk Fest Find 2023: Nick Shoulders and the Okay Crawdad

I often go to the Edmonton Folk Music Festival knowing very few of the acts, which I once found daunting and now find delightful. Poring over the program book or the very decent EFMF app on my phone and reading the various bios and reviews is a great opportunity to come across both great artists and some sublime copywriting.

Consider this entry for Nick Shoulders: Wielding an ethereal croon and masterful whistle crafted from a lifetime chasing lizards through the Ozark hills, Nick Shoulders is a living link to the roots of country music with a penchant for the absurd.

This was intriguing enough to get him shortlisted, but he appeared on the sidestage Saturday night (as they do while changing the main stage over for the next act), with his 'rat tail' mullet and bright pink t-shirt from "Booger Hollow, Arkansas", he sold a lot of folks on seeing his full set the next day.

The great whistling and yodeling certainly caught my ear, but his banter and clever, incisive lyrics got me by the brain and wouldn't let go. Given how conservative country radio has become, hearing a white fella sing, "I wish ancestral lands belonged to indigenous people/ who didn't have to live in fear of law from the steeple/ does grievance make you strong or does is just make you feeble..." in a homage to Cole Porter's "Don't Fence Me In" was kind of delightful, to be honest.

"Won't Fence us In" https://youtu.be/uaj0ktuUTEw 

A self-described weirdo from Arkansas, Nick invited the thousands of us in front of main stage in Gallagher Park to join him at Stage 2 the next afternoon, and a lot of us took him up on it.

And, again, the musicality for him and his three-piece band, The Okay Crawdad, is pretty great for a retro country and cowpunk lover like myself, but the wit is what engaged me the most. From his earnest belief that much more joins us than divides us and the many problems he feels plague his home country, to the history lesson and amazing mouthbow performance, it was one of the best side-stage performances I have ever seen at the festival.

He is a very smart and opinionated cat as well; his op-ed piece, "Fake Twang: How Conservatism Stole Country Music" (written for In These Times) is a neat read and includes this little nugget:

In New Orleans, I’m privileged enough to two-step and yodel in the most vibrant and least white country-music scene in the United States, and it makes me proud to love this genre, despite the darkness. There’s a ton of work left to do to make this unique music form more accessible and more welcoming to people outside of the white rural experience, but we’ve come a long way.

Like Corb Lund, Shoulders comes to country and roots music after working in punk with his band Thunderlizard, which even I have heard of. And my favourite insight over his entire set was in this introduction to his song "Turn On The Dark":

"If you ever wonder why so many punks and goths and metal heads and weirdos seem to be getting into country, don't forget that the fiddle was once referred to as the Devil's instrument. This genre has its roots in rebellion and we are never going away. This next song is for anyone who ever left a rural area to feel safe..."

So yeah, Glory and I were delighted for the entirety of the performance.

Saving Country Music has a lot of praise for Shoulders as well: 

"It is not a spurious notion to consider Nick Shoulders one of the most unique and gifted vocal acrobats of roots music from this generation or any other. The splendid highlonesome yodels, the exquisite whistling, the occasional run on the throat trumpet, or just the timbre of his voice when he’s singing straight with no frills is something that immediately sets him off against the weary peloton of average performers. With range, control, and confidence, Shoulders can sing whatever he wants, however he wants, and does.[...]

"In previous eras, Nick Shoulders would be a marvel of American music with a handsome recording contract and an open invite on the Grand Ole Opry any night he was in town. They would have written bad Westerns for him to star in just to showcase his voice. Instead Nick Shoulders is self-releasing his second record with no publicist and little praise from the press."

Anyhow, Glory and I both enjoyed the hell out of this fellow and his band, I want to do my part by introducing him to my ten of readers. If you like your western twang served a little sideways a la Orville Peck, do yourself a favour and check out Nick Shoulders and the Okay Crawdad, especially if you can see him live! He is Cremona tomorrow, Jasper the day after and in Grande Prairie next weekend before heading back stateside. (And the Horseshoe Tavern in Toronto Oct. 29!).

I am already regretting not buying his t-shirt.

"Whooped If You Do" https://youtu.be/KS11SK-LZYE

"Heart of Glass" (cover) https://youtu.be/07o-R_YGDSs

Masked Melancholy Crooner - Orville Peck at EFMF 2022

The highlight of this year's Folk Fest was an artist I hadn't heard of when the lineup was announced back in May, which wasn't too surprising. The fact that masked retro cowboy crooner Orville Peck has captivated our entire household in such a short time is maybe a little less expected. 

One of the few out performers in country music, Orville Peck (a pseudonym) has a tremendous baritone voice and a repertoire of rusticated songs that sound at once out of step with modern stylings and yet timeless in their painful honestly about loneliness and loss; a true antithesis to modern pop country. 

Self taught on guitar and keyboards, he released his self-produced debut album Pony in 2019 and an EP (Show Pony) and follow-up album Bronco since then, alas well as a tremendous assortment of well-produced music videos.

Bronco got played through a few times while we camped out ot Whitney Lakes at the end of July, but Glory had already bought her first Folk Fest ticket well before then. I met her near the gate a little after 7 pm and enjoyed watching her take in the spectacle of one of Western Canada's largest music festivals. 

We enjoyed Trinidadian ex-pats Kobo Town on a side stage before settling in on The Hill to watch The War on Drugs, the lantern parade and finally, Orville Peck himself. 

Resplendent in a classic cowboy ensemble featuring a barbed wire motif in addition to his signatuire fringed mask, he captivated the thousands in attendance for over an hour. His deep, powerful voice seemed to strengthen with every song, hitting incredible sustained notes on C'mon Baby, Cry and The Curse of the Blackened Eye. His 4-piece band are a solid bunch of accompanists as well.

Staying until the end of his set shortly after midnight was not the brightest move for either Glory or myself, with her needing to drive an hour out of town immediately afterwards to meet some friends for a visit, and my volunteer shift needing me back on-site at 6:30. But it was a wonderful and joyous performance (despite the innate sadness of many of the songs, like Kalahari Down) and neither of us had any regrets. 

In fact, I am pretty confident that the next time Orville rolls through town, the whole family may be in attendance.

If you don't like country, Orville Peck probably isn't going to change your mind. But if you have any appreciation for tremendous vocals, passionate songwriting and a bold showman who has hollowed out an incredible space in that thin overlap between sincerity and irony, he is certainly worth checking out, and his videos are top-notch.

Daytona Sand - weirdest, funnest, does his own stunts including surfing an 18-wheeler

C'mon Baby, Cry - live on Jimmy Kimmel

The Curse of the Blackened Eye - twangiest, strong contender for weirdest, Norman Reedus guests

Let Me Drown - amazing vocal showcase

Legends Never Die - duet with Shania Twain (!)

No Glory in the West - stripped down melancholia and brilliant scenery