When someone you love dies, there’s always that daze between the death and the funeral.
And often, though as impractical as it may seem, when the funeral ends, and you’re milling around on the sidewalk with the last couple of stragglers after the wake, everything is supposed to go back to the way it was.
The mourning is over; it’s time to keep moving forward.
But it’s never really like that. There’s no mourning guidebook we’re all supposed to follow (nor is there a right or wrong way to mourn). However, I think many of the attendees and organizers of the Mariposa Folk Festival have hit that moment now, successfully completing the first event since the death of Gordon Lightfoot.
Lightfoot was not only a Canadian music icon, but he was also in many ways the patron saint of this festival. Its return to Orillia nearly a quarter century ago was no guarantee for success, but his endorsement and his performance(s) set it up to become what it is today: arguably, the premier folk festival in all of Canada, and perhaps equalled only by Newport in the United States.
This weekend showed that. It was special. It was everything you hoped a Mariposa would be, punctuated by the continuous tributes to the ghost overlooking that will now watch over Tudhope Park every July, with his name adorning the main stage.
As I walked around this weekend, I really wondered who — or what — this festival is for.
First off, like the Wu-Tang, Mariposa is for the children.
During the daytime, the Folk Play area was lousy with future performers and artists, making inspired crafts and inspiring noise. If a seven-year-old walks into any store, particularly a music store, that child is going to be told not to touch anything.
Where else but Mariposa can the child not only pick up an instrument — or try to, as it might be bigger than they are — and start playing with it. Guitars, violins, washboards, all of these were put into the hands of youngsters who were told to make noise. As music education continues to be the victim of budgetary discretion, Mariposa is essential.
Mariposa is also for friends. While this wasn’t the first festival coming out of the COVID-19 pandemic, it was certainly the first without the lingering thought that everything could be shut down again on a dime. And that meant more and more people got to reconnect with each other with big hugs and bigger smiles, or make new friends in the first place.
Early on the first day, while walking through the artisan area, one of the vendors was barefoot and flummoxed. “This is what happens at Mariposa,” she said. “I lose my shoes all the time.”
Without missing a beat, from another tent, a reply: “You can borrow mine.”
These folks were also surrounded by artists equally enamoured with each other, such as Paul Langlois bringing up Danny Greaves from the Watchmen for a tune. Greaves wasn’t on the bill, but he lives nearby, and the two musicians share a friendship that dates back to the early 1990s. Where else but on a side stage on a Sunday afternoon should they duet on a cover of The Tragically Hip’s Bobcaygeon?
Then there’s Danny Michel and Steve Poltz, who’ve become such good friends that they’re going on tour together this fall. They were regularly standing in the back of each other’s sets, when not joining each other on stage for a workshop, showing support and cracking jokes.
Michel opened his Barnfield Stage set Saturday with a re-working of Poltz’s Brief History of My Life — facetiously saying he hoped people thought his version was the original and Poltz’s was the cover — making it about Michel’s time growing up in Kitchener-Waterloo and replacing the baseball references with clips from Star Wars.
Poltz — who might be the unsung hero of the festival — drew huge crowds everywhere he went. He and Michel were part of the Phone Keys Wallet Glasses workshop in the pub stage at 12:15 p.m. Sunday, which meant there was a lineup to get into the pub tent by 12:10 p.m.
The introductory story to Poltz’s first song of the afternoon – You Were Meant for Me, the song Jewel turned into a smash in the mid-90s — gave a reason why. It was uproarious and almost as good as the song (and not entirely suitable for an all-ages publication).
It also showcased perhaps the thing Mariposa is most obviously for: discovery.
Mariposa is about discovering new artists. To Poltz’s left on stage at this workshop was Carsie Blanton, a singer-songwriter from Virginia keen to knock down fascists, misogynists and the wealthy, usually all in one song. Coming in Friday, few people knew what they’d be seeing come from this small woman with a mop of curly hair. By Sunday, her showcase at Barnfield was packed with new fans and her CDs were sold out at the merch tent.
Mariposa is also about re-discovery. I can’t imagine a scenario where I’d be sitting back and thinking that KT Tunstall would have the best main stage set of the weekend, but here we are. With no backing band, Tunstall stole the show Saturday, mixing in some new material, some choice covers and closing with Suddenly I See, which provided for one of the louder singalongs of the weekend.
Then there’s Judy Collins. At 84 years old, she was the connection to the Mariposa of the past so desperately needed.
She won’t be the reason a festival like this sells 30,000 tickets, but she spent an hour in the blistering heat Sunday night bringing tears to the eyes of everyone watching the main stage. Not just the people in the crowd either: when she began singing Both Sides Now, the Joni Mitchell song Collins first recorded in 1967, artists and organizers rushed out from the green room to watch in stunned silence.
Both Collins and headliner Feist came out during Rufus Wainright’s set to perform duets. It brought the house down. No disrespect to Feist, but nothing was going to top that.
At least not this year. Ideally, something will happen next year that will be just as awe-inspiring and create those “do you remember when” moments. And hopefully, the festival will continue to grow within its confines — metaphorically and physically, as there were some bumps in the road this year with security, parking and Sunday beer shortages — as it gets closer to its 25th edition at Tudhope Park.
Mariposa has become a festival for everyone. I hope that never changes.
Patrick Bales is a freelance reporter in Simcoe County whose work often appears on BarrieToday.
