@amelia.moseman (words)
@colekincart (photos)

If I were a painter, I’d take out my brush and get to work on a John Lewis Krimmel style genre painting of Evanston Folk Festival, complete with sunny skies and rejoicing amongst the people. I’d capture the grandeur of the simplicity, exhibited in the liveliness of the crowds and the beauty of the environment, both built and natural. The whole painting would of course be set against the backdrop of Lake Michigan and Sunday’s blood moon. Unfortunately, I’m not a painter, and all I have is my pen, so for now Cole’s pictures and my words will have to suffice. 

The canvas for Evanston Folk Festival is quite blank—this is only the second year of it. But you would never have guessed that from a) the lineup or b) the setup. With three stages sprawled through the lakefront Dawes Park the festival is not too big, not too small, but justttttt right. Not to mention, Evanston is the perfect place for gathering together to have stories and hopes and dreams sung sweetly to you, given that it’s magical and might not actually be real. 

Throughout both days, people sprawled out on the various lawns, bringing lawn chairs, picnic blankets (complete with lavish spreads), and even the occasional foldable table. It’s a place where you can spend a whole 8 hours without even noticing. (Maybe there was something in the free Evanston tap water available to all patrons?) It’s a place that’s best enjoyed in the company of dear friends, which lucky for you all is just what WIIT did. Myself (Amelia), Ast. Station-Manager/Photographer Cole Kincart, Publicity Director Tori Aspurez, and Program Director Olivia McMath hauled ourselves up to Evanston to deliver you a review of all that went down. Please enjoy responsibly: 

Day 1 

Cole and I arrived around 1:35, after approximately an hour and a half on the train, and had no problem securing our passes or getting into the park. We headed straight for the main stage, so as not to miss friend-of-the-radio Truman Sinclair. It was somewhat of a hometown show for Sinclair, who lived in the area until he was 14, and he looked right at home up on the big stage despite playing the show completely solo. We were treated not just to favs off his debut album, American Recordings, but also to a bunch of new stuff—things he’d written as little as “three days ago”. Despite an incredibly mild crowd, Sinclair was charming and sincere in between each of his generational bangers. We’ve said it once and we’ll say it again: there are big things on the horizon for Truman. If his set was any indication of his future projects, consider us sat (preferably on a blanket, up against the waves of Lake Michigan). 

The great thing about being satisfied by the artist you came for early in the day is that the remainder of the day has no expectation. Cole and I were able to jump around from artist to artist for the remainder of our time while also soaking up the extracurriculars that the fest had to offer.

While Cole went on a solo mission to capture the essence of the place (see below), I stuck around the main stage for Amythyst Kiah and Watchouse. Both acts detailed a specific genre of a Southern Americana experience, albeit different ends of the spectrum. The former told her tales of living a life Black, Queer, and Bold in her Appalachian home, while the latter duo (who are married to each other) had me imagining my very own Piedmont homestead. Kiah held her own with just guitar and vocals, fitted in all black, followed up nicely by the matching striped sweaters and dueling guitars and harmonies of Watchhouse. To be completely honest, my intake of either performance was hindered by my ability to lounge leisurely on my blanket and soak up each individual ray of sun but in my eyes that’s kind of what the festival experience is about anyway.  

Cole reunited with me on our blanket and we packed it up to find a bit of sustenance. The food and market area was a good size, not too many options but enough to cater to the masses and also keep the lines short, aside from the homemade ice cream truck. Granted, as long as there’s a $7 pizza slice somewhere, we aren’t picky. We enjoyed the offerings of the local booths, not overtaking but good entertainment, particularly an old-timey tin-type photo booth that really made us feel the part. 

We traipsed to the end of the park in an attempt to catch a portion of queen/icon/legendary songwriter Mary Gauthier’s set over at the Lagoon stage. I love my grandma, let the record show, but I consider Mary Gauthier to be sort of a spiritual grandma. Her music tells the stories of 1000 lives lived, and 1000 more lives imagined. There’s a certain cadence to both her talking and her singing that is vintage, but not outdated. No stranger to the outskirts, she’s tackling the issues of the modern day the same way she did in the past, not shying away from harsh realities. Mercy Now was a breakout for a reason and the title track in particular has only become more relevant with age.  

It was around this time where I realized just how great the set-up of the festival was: we could be nomadic, floating from show to show soaking up bits and pieces, or we could commit ourselves to a crowd, joining hands with those around us in the experience of a singular performance. At a folk festival where the Being Together feels almost as important as the performances themselves, you couldn’t ask for much better. Despite the range of attendees (including seemingly millions of children), and the variety of experiences, it really felt like we were all there to experience things beyond ourselves. 

We caught the end of John Moreland, and stayed for the first three songs of Iron & Wine before making the trek back to our Southside, not wanting to be too burnt out for the next day.

Day 2

Having learned from Day 1, we made pit stops at Whole Foods for picnic supplies before once again entering the festival grounds—that’s just the vibe of the place. We once again found a perfect spot for our blankets up near the front left side of the main stage, just in time for the end of acquaintance-of-the-radio and poet extraordinaire Kara Jackson. It’s always good to hear her voice. Damn those dickhead blues, amirite?

Tori, Olivia, and I then stepped into the WBEZ conversation tent for a talk with Anaïs Mitchell of Bonny Light Horseman. The tent was a nice addition to the festival but the audience asked far more about Hadestown than we would have preferred. I get that it’s great work, and impressive, but sue me, I’m a Bonny Light Horse-woman. Regardless, it’s cool to see an artist you respect talk about their work and their process. 

Back to our blanket we went, next treated to a performance by Ezra Furman, another act with connections to Evanston. She delivered a witty, yet deeply intimate and impassioned set to a growing crowd. On the heels of a new album, Goodbye Small Head (which was recorded in Chicago), the solo performance didn’t quite give the songs the space they needed to really convey a loss of control but Furman gave as convincing a performance as they could alone on stage.

Cleansing our palates of the prog-rock screaming, we headed over to the Lagoon stage for the sweet angelics of Ken Pomeroy. Merely 22 years-old, Pomeroy has an authentic southern grit that they just don’t make like they used to. Walking in on a delightful cover of Gillian Welch’s “Ms. Ohio” was enough to keep us in our seats for the rest of her set. With vocals comparable to a young Emmy Lou Harris, I was drawn in by the simplicity of her songs. She wasn’t flashy or brash, simply extending a hand for us to walk alongside her life for a moment, if we wanted to. 

Then it was back to our spot at the main stage for the suited up duo of The Milk Carton Kids. I was formally unacquainted with their shtick and despite the winding harmonies and obvious chemistry, the millennial dad skits in between songs were a bit much for me. Happy for them though. 

Really, we were just counting down the minutes until OUR headliner: Bonny Light Horseman (friends of the radio). The folk trio of Anaïs Mitchell, Eric D. Johnson (Fruit Bats, The Shins), and Josh Kaufman has been a grail of all of ours since we heard their most recent album Keep Me on Your Mind/See You Free when it came out in June of 2024. Having seen them on their tour for that album, I knew this would be a highlight of the weekend. Their individual talents coalesce into a rolling ball of fire, passion, and precision. Mitchell and Johnson trade off vocal lead, each blending seamlessly into the others harmonies, while Kaufman shreds each melody. The highlight of their performance is always the communal scream in their song “When I Was Younger”, a delivery of catharsis that remains with you. 

We stayed for a few songs of Margo Price, enough to see what we needed to, before packing our bags and slinging ‘em over our shoulder for our journey homeward. Just before Price took the stage, the moon had begun to rise over Lake Michigan and her shores. If you didn’t see for yourself, there was a total lunar eclipse of a full moon, turning our La Luna a brilliant pink as she rose from her slumber, as if she were embarrassed to come up. To make matters worse for her, she was so beautiful that a crowd gathered along the festival’s edge, phones at the ready, to take in the scene. That scene, of the crowd turning away from the stage to capture such pure beauty, was powerful imagery of what it felt like to be at Evanston Folk Festival. To have your worries shouldered by the sun, the water and the music, and be surrounded by people who were appreciating it all just as much. 

After departing, Cole and I boarded our version of the Orange Blossom Special (the CTA redline) and took one last look at Evanston, where the air is cleaner, the sun shines a little bit brighter, and the music is bumping, and began counting down the days until next year’s festival.