The revival of the venerable Newport Folk Festival continued with a very strong roster of artists this year that expanded once again the boundaries of what is “folk music.” Folk purists – the kind of people who booed Dylan when he went electric at the 1965 festival (this year was the 50^th anniversary of that iconic set) – would probably have seen their heads explode if they caught My Morning Jacket’s surprise set on first night of this year’s gathering.

When Dave Rawlings hits his stride, the genius of his improvisation seems to stop time. All other distractions fade away and one can focus on his confident, driving guitar playing that is both discrete in melody and fluid within the larger harmony. Mr. Rawling’s is like a chess Grandmaster, able to play 20 moves ahead.  This is an incredible strength because as you begin to realize the beauty of what he has just played – a reward to those listening closely – Mr.

In the beginning of June of every year, most musicians and music lovers know that the greatest festival of all time takes place in that small town in Tennessee called Manchester that has become famous for this unique and prodigious extravaganza. This was my fifth time out of its six year existence that I have made the pilgrimage to this Mecca for music. It is never without struggle, conflict, or a challenge that one achieves complete bliss or fulfillment.