Folk fest fans know you’ll always find your people

Opinion

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This article was published 13/07/2024 (438 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

BIRDS HILL PARK — Even if you go solo, you’re never truly alone at the Winnipeg Folk Festival.

On an already-sweltering Friday morning, people are queuing up for the Folk Festival Express, a free Winnipeg Transit service that operates from downtown. The express is great for people who don’t have cars, or who are in from out of town, or solo festival goers.

People are already making friends in line, including two women in front of me, one shyly asking the other if she’d like to sit together on the bus.

Jim Hasnik, 55, is also in line. He’s here from Minneapolis and this is his second year attending the festival.

“The whole vibe is awesome,” he says. “It’s really cool, really relaxing — like, just even walking in, you feel your blood pressure go down.”

He’s here with his 17-year-old daughter, Josie, whose folk band Finick is part of the Young Performers Program. She’s joined in the band by twins Adrinana and Ruby Mathiason, also 17. They performed last year and fell in love.

“It was so fun last year,” Ruby says. “I mean, it’s really just being able to connect with musicians that are our age who are supported by the crowd.

“It’s our second year; it really feels like summer camp.”

Folk fest does feel like summer camp. It’s a site of annual reunions — as evidenced by many sweaty, shrieky group hugs on the festival site — and community. These kinds of spaces are special and rare, especially for young people.

“I’ve actually noticed that a lot — there’s not a lot of places where kids are allowed,” Ruby says. “We’re from Minneapolis, and Mall of America these days, like, you can’t go anywhere without a chaperone.”

For a lot of people, folk fest is their temporary “third place” for this reason. A term coined by sociologist Ray Oldenburg in the 1980s, third places are spaces that are neither work nor home (or school) that foster social connection and belonging.

Not all music festivals can be considered third places. While waiting for the bus, I strike up a conversation with Valerie Parker, a fellow elder millennial, and we got to talking about the Woodstock ’99 documentary, Peace, Love and Rage, expressing mutual horror for not only the violence and sexual assault that happened there, but how little organizers cared about the attendees (no water, no shade, no support).

Parker, 39, is a big fan of the Festival Express and being able to access the festival without a car. She’s been attending the folk fest since 2017 and likes to travel solo and then meet up with pals or her sister — or not. She likes being able to see the music she wants to see and not being beholden to other people’s schedules and preferences.

“During the day, I find it especially easy to be by yourself, because you’re just going to each stage,” she says. “That’s my favourite part, honestly, the daytime workshops.

“The great thing is that it’s only 30 minutes outside the city, but you feel like you’re in a whole new world. It’s just magical.”

When we reach the festival grounds, the line to get in is long; apparently a skunk caused an opening delay, which is perhaps the most “folk fest” flag on the play I’ve ever heard of.

But even in a roiling line, people are caring for each other — offering each other sunscreen or water or to hold a bag or to help detach someone’s wagon hung up on a tree root.

Discovery is a big part of the Winnipeg Folk Festival. It’s all about stumbling upon an electrifying workshop or finding your new favourite act.

I used to think that this festival was just about the music. But the folks are part of the discovery, too. It’s not a surprise that so many lifelong friendships and romantic partnerships start here. Folk fest is all about the bands you haven’t heard yet — but it’s also about the friends you haven’t met yet. Folk fest is about people.

jen.zoratti@winnipegfreepress.com