2026 Folk Alliance International Conference was a musical whirlwind

Off and on for the better part of a decade, the Folk Alliance International Conference took place at Kansas City’s Westin Crown Center hotel, packing ballrooms and hotel rooms with people from all over the world to see an equally international array of musical acts, informative panels, and keynote speakers. While the organization is still based in Kansas City, the annual conference is moving about North America, with 2024’s iteration in Montreal and next year’s 2026 installment taking place in Chicago.

The 38th Annual Folk Alliance International Conference was held at the Sheraton New Orleans in New Orleans, Louisiana, and ran from Wednesday, January 21, to Sunday, January 25. This year’s conference theme was Rise Up. We hopped on a plane last week to take in one of the world’s great music cities and FAI 2026 and it was a more continental selection of musicians and guest speakers than years past, largely due to the current political climate making it inhospitable for acts beyond North America to risk a trip to play a hotel ballroom. While their presence was sorely missed and often noticed, the conference was no less impressive for it.

As per usual, the conference kicked things off with the International Folk Awards and, once again, a beautiful community came together to celebrate musicians and folks who struggle and use their voices authentically, as People’s Voice Award winner Kyshona put it. Plus, the ballroom stage was dressed as though it were a backroom at a Bourbon Street speakeasy, rather than the usual selection of digital screens, making it feel as though the audience was just across the street and a few blocks down.

It really took on that aspect when CJ Chenier, son of the Legacy Lifetime Achievement winner Clifton Chenier took the stage with his father’s accordion and got things rocking, and was further brought to bear when Living Lifetime Achievement winner Taj Mahal performed, as well. I think I summed it up pretty well on social media shortly thereafter when I posted, “I don’t know what you’re doing on a Wednesday evening, but it sure as shit isn’t seeing Taj Mahal.” With both musicians backed by New Orleans locals, the Rumble, each artist’s performance felt like a full concert.

As FAI Deputy Director Alex Mallett put it when receiving his Spirit of Folk award, he described the annual Folk Alliance conference as a “Rare and special and magical place,” which is dummy true. However, for all its magic, when Carsie Blanton took to the stage when she co-won the Artist of the Year award with I’m With Her, she did not leave it with that award, saying that she’d gladly accept it when artists could attend the conference free of charge. It was a jaw-dropping moment, but a call to action not out of pocket.

We took a minute to go outside and reflect, which meant that we snagged a slice of pizza across the street, and by the time we came back, the Milk Carton Kids’ showcase room was so packed, we tapped out and went to bed. That ended up being a wise decision, considering we both conked out by 11, but it meant that when we woke up the first full day of the conference Thursday morning, we were well-rested. After breakfast and coffee, we felt human and were thrilled to get cracking.

First up: “The Song is Still Being Written,” tied to photographer Barry Schneier’s book of the same name and its attendant exhibit at the Folk Americana Roots Hall of Fame. It was an interesting history and overview of Boston’s Club 47/Club Passim, as well as the photographer and author’s book, but after having already attended several FARHOF presentations at past Folk Alliance conferences, it got a little repetitive toward the end.

Of all the events, panel-wise, the keynote with Big Freedia and Tank of Tank & the Bangas might’ve been the one I was most looking forward to. Two icons of New Orleans, together? Let’s fucking go. The ballroom was packed as hell, with standing room only at the back and host Gwen Thompkins got everything started off right when, in her introduction, she stated, “Wrong or right, we depend on musicians in ways we don’t expect from other public figures.”

At the start, the conversation wound its way through childhood to maintaining childlike wonder to influences and how those things contributed to what these two musicians would eventually become known for, as well as–of course–their connection to the city from which they came. Honestly, the contrast between the come-ups and careers of Freedia and Tank made for a fascinating contrast, but the fact of the matter is that either of these performers could easily occupy an hour of discussion, no problem.

Tank singing a never-before-performed second verse to “God Push Me” was the perfect example of these songs as “secular hymns,” as Thompkins put it, and there was a delightful lovefest to end it all, with both Tank and Freedia acknowledging each other as their favorite collaborators and needing to do that again very soon. Big Freedia’s got a kid’s book coming out – Big Freedia’s Bounce House – with music to accompany it.

We then hauled absolute ass to make it down three floors to catch “The Legacy of Clifton Chenier,” in connection with the upcoming release of a box set of the King of Zydeco’s music from Smithsonian Folkways. It packed out, unsurprisingly, and hearing the stories of how the set came to be, as well as stories of Chenier’s life and communities which surrounded him were affecting. His son, CJ, when speaking about what it was like to realize who his father was and what he did, full-on stopped talking, overcome with emotion.

Nick Spitzer of American Routes, explaining as to why he never interviewed Chenier was fascinating, as was the tale of how Chris Strachwitz, the owner of Chenier’s label Aarhoolie, came to sign him, from Folkways’ Adam Machado. They were all good stories of music changing and evolving in both style and name and people’s connection to it all, and a better sales pitch, you couldn’t ask for.

We bounced out as the audience Q&A started to snag coffee before the Milk Carton Kids’ “Rise Up (And Laugh About It)” conversation, back in the ballroom. The duo is low-key, but also witty, so we were excited to catch it, and the panel didn’t disappoint. The duo came out late, but immediately began joking with moderator Ann Powers about technology, with Powers joking that it was a Ted Talk about the new Luddism. From there, it went to a discussion of yearning, the duo’s push-pull, and, of course, their forthcoming new album, Lost Cause Lover Fool, due out April 26, which they previewed live. Lovely way to spend an afternoon.

After heading to get wings (lemon pepper) and taking a brief lie-down, we were as set as we were gonna be and headed down to actually make a go of seeing the official showcases.

First up was Sturtz, a Colorado folk trio. We were mainly there because they were playing ahead of Resonant Rogues’ Sparrow Smith, but even before they played a note, they’d won over the room as they joked while dealing with the comedic attempts to get a guitar strap on. By the time their baroque folk (rhyme intended) with Rufus Wainwright-esque lead vocals and high lonesome harmonies got going, I was very glad with our “sure, why not?” choice.

Sparrow Smith was up next and I was very very excited. Resonant Rogues are always delightful, and getting to see Smith tackle some solo tunes, albeit backed by a full band was of course something I had to check out. She described some of her new songs as “Appalachian psych folk,” and I would love to live within that genre. Along with the new material, Smith did perform what might be one of the most perfect folk songs of the last five years though, with “Ridgelines,” and I will cry each and every time I hear that piece of perfection.

After that song, it was a wild run down one floor to catch Brooklyn’s Bandits on the Run, where they were opening with “You Have Changed,” which is fucking bold. But given the fact their guitarist has been in an Avett Brothers musical featured on NPR, their star has been on the rise since we first saw them at FAI, and we’re glad to have been supporting them all the while. They’ve been dropping a slew of new singles as of late, and despite a series of other endeavors taking their attention, it only seems to have strengthened this trio’s musical bond, and with each member taking lead on various songs while the other two harmonized, it was just glorious indie folk for a too-short 25 minutes. Their jam-packed showcase set was filled with just as many musicians as regular conference attendees, a further testament to their draw. Closing it by performing off-mic, busker style? Masterful.

Took a break to get some fresh air and have a beer before wandering up to the ballroom to catch Atlanta blues artist Buddy Red, as they’re repped by a longtime publicist friend. With a sound described as being “a fusion of Delta blues, the psychedelic grandeur of Pink Floyd, and the unrelenting energy of James Brown,” it was an easy sell to haul myself up five floors to catch his set. A power trio setup is also catnip to me. While the mix was a little rough–the drums were almost overpowering (no shade, though, ’cause she hit like Bonham) and the guitar was nearly buried–Red’s rocking grooves managed to find their way through, and they felt like a ’90s throwback in the best way. The guitarist’s sinuous stage moves were as entrancing as the funky licks, as well. A cover of the Stooges’ “No Fun” was the heaviest thing I’ve ever seen at Folk Alliance, and emphasized the “all music is folk music” statement made every year in a way that made my old punk heart sing. I didn’t know how much I needed a little Iggy Pop until Red rocked it out.

Another break to take a breather, run back to my room for an energy drink and a beer, and I rounded out the official showcases with the Steel Wheels after hanging out and chatting with some folks from Michigan’s Blissfest and the FARHOF. I was starting to flag after a bunch of uppy-downy on the stairs, escalators, and elevators, but if I didn’t catch at least a smidgen of the Steel Wheels’ rootsy harmonies, I’d end up kicking myself all the way back home. They’re playing the Granada on March 19 and just released a new EP, Cold Call, and they are locked in with such quality, loping indie folk, I could’ve easily ended the night with their set. Four members around one mic doing “Where Will You Stand?” was brilliant.

The International Indigenous Music Summit (IIMS) ran a mini-summit alongside the conference, offering programming and performances each day as a preview of their official summit, which takes place each summer in Toronto. On Thursday afternoon, IIMS presented Bimiwizh (To carry/take along), an Indigenous Community Gathering. Open to Indigenous delegates only, this event offered an opportunity to gather for a meal, connect, and discuss current and future visions for the Indigenous music community, while Thursday night at Folk Alliance brought the official Indigenous Music Showcase, sponsored by IIMS.

Performers at the showcase included Agalisiga “Chuj” Mackey (Cherokee Nation). Raised in Oklahoma, Mackey writes and sings country-folk music in the Cherokee language. The sound ranged from rocking blues guitar, to Hank Williams-like croons, and a song I recognized from FX television show The Lowdown, “Tsitsutsa Tsigesv.” “I like writing pitiful songs,” he joked. He encouraged Indigenous artists in the audience to “sing in your language to show it can be done.”

Charlie Needs Braces (GuriNgai) from central New South Wales, Australia, is a multi-instrumentalist sister duo which features live looping, field recordings captured in the bush, and catchy dance rhythms that make it hard to sit still while listening. Aysanabee (Oji-Cree) has a compelling voice, guitar-playing, and storytelling; he spent time interviewing his grandfather (some of which was featured on his debut album Watin), and wrote songs about his life and created music as an outlet during 2020.

Multi-instrumentalist Sandrine Masse (Wendat) creates quiet, beautiful music in both French and English. I tried to catch her playing when I could throughout the rest of the conference – a few songs wasn’t enough. Thea Hopkins I had seen previously and was excited to hear her play again. She is a masterful songwriter and an accomplished guitarist who loves to bring the audience in to sing along.

Blue Moon Marquee is the British Columbia duo of A.W. Cardinal (Beaver Lake Cree Nation, Metis) and Jasmine Colette, who create music with a little bit of everything from jump jive to country. Of note: they recently collaborated with Northern Cree, a powwow drum group, on an album called Get Your Feathers Ready.

We made it to the Kansas City Room to see Oklahoma-born, Kansas-based Elexa Dawson (Potawatomi), who opened the Friday night private showcases in the Kansas City Room with her land-based songs and managed to keep things going while everyone waited by starting an ice breaker discussing our favorite Little Debby snack cakes. All were approved, then Dawson got into a set of twangy place-aware folk. Goodness, she’s wonderful. She later performed a second set in the Indigenous Voices Room on mandolin and guitar.

After that, I kinda wandered around and peeked into various rooms before I eventually found myself in the Mundial Montreal/FolQuebec room four floors down, seeing Sophie Lukacs, whose work on the kora was hypnotic and beautiful, and will definitely be a group that I seek out more of.

I finally circled back to the KC Room for a helping of David Luther with Bradley McKellip and Kelly Dougherty before ending the night. I managed to help get the room’s coffee pot brewing (thanks, grandma!) and took a shot of whiskey for my troubles. Then, guitar-weaving and harmonies made for a lovely end to a very, very long day, as we all watched these talented local-to-me musicians play against a backdrop of downtown NoLa, with Caesar’s casino shining in the windows behind them.

Friday afternoon offered an IIMS affinity group meeting “for non-Indigenous folks to meet, ask questions, share strategies and connect with each other in international solidarity as accomplices toward Indigenous sovereignty.” Private showcases continued Friday and Saturday evening in the Indigenous Voices Room and other rooms throughout, continuing ‘til the wee hours. What follows is by no means the full list, just what curiosity, enthusiasm, and energy drinks allowed me to hear for myself:

Shenandoah-based Rebecca Porter (Chamorro) wowed listeners with her soaring vocals and evocative lyrics. “Honky Tonks Ain’t For Heroes” is a classic tear-in-your-beer, and “Roll with the Punches” became an instant favorite for me.

During her set, New Orleans-born Kelly Love Jones played and sang some of the best love songs I’ve heard since Sade and Prince. Swoon-worthy, and I mean swoon-worthy, delivery.

I wasn’t able to catch his first set Thursday night, but I was able to hear Southeastern North Carolina-based Lakota John accompanying the harmonics of fingerpick blues guitarist Cary Morin and their partner on Friday night, which was an absolute treat.

Manitoba-born and raised Phyllis Sinclair (Cree) is another artist I was happy to see again, on the Friday night private showcase schedule. Her set is as much storytelling as song, and the background anecdotes she related for “O Land,” “Kiyam,” and “Me and Pauline,” drew listeners in and made the songs three-dimensional.

I had my first introduction to Greenlandic-Danish singer/songwriter Simon Lynge’s music Friday night, though he’s been making music for many years. “Dark Brown Eyes” and “Love Comes Back to You” had me staying up too late in the hotel room listening to the rest of his discography. At one point during between-song banter, he remarked, “It’s easier to break the world when you don’t feel connected to it,” and that thought has stayed with me.

Cape Breton-based Morgan Toney (Mi’kmaq) delivered the rock to the people, accompanied by two fellow musicians on mandolin and percussion. His fiddle rendition of the Mi’kmaq Honour Song segued into AC/DC’s “Thunderstruck” and back again, and I only wish we’d had enough room to get up and dance for the entire set.

Saturday morning, we adjourned to the Arts and Garden Districts to stretch our legs and enjoy the weather before everything moved in and went to hell. After grabbing lunch and hoofing it back to the Sheraton, I discovered the panel I’d been planning on, “Beyond ‘Woke’: Rethinking Lead Belly in the Age of Cowboy Carter,” had in fact been canceled due to inclement weather. I wandered two doors down to catch “Making Tracks: A Record Producer’s Southern Roots Music Journey” in its stead. Being as it highlighted the career of producer Scott Billington, who’s produced Kansas City’s own Samantha Fish, it seemed like a natural pivot. Plus: music legend Irma Thomas was part of the panel, a fantastic bonus, to be sure. Folk Alliance is, for me, about finding new and exciting artists, but any opportunity to hear literal living legends share their story is something I cherish and appreciate with all my heart, and the stories Thomas and Nathan Williams shared were, alongside CJ Chenier’s recollections the day before, the sort of thing I’ll long cherish.

Another of Saturday’s panel presentations, “Songs That Carry Us: Indigenous Perspectives on Folk Tradition,” brought Indigenous artists and songwriters together to discuss Indigenous song traditions and the similarities with the original meaning of “folk” music (songs passed down through families and small communities, carried by memory, and passed down as oral tradition), and how honoring these living practices offers a deeper understanding of music, identity, and community.

Along with moderator Nimkish Younging (Cree [Opaskwayak Cree Nation of Manitoba], and Kwakwaka’wakw), Program Coordinator for IIMS, the panel comprised Aysanabee (Oji-Cree), Crystal Shawanda (Wiikwemkoong First Nation), Thea Hopkins (Aquinnah Wampanoag), and sisters Charlie and Miri of Charlie Needs Braces (GuriNgai).

After introductions, Younging opened the discussion by naming how the Folk tradition – oral, passed down – is so much like Indigenous traditions of songs and storytelling as teachings and medicine. While not a complete transcription of the panel, some of the more illuminating questions and the panelists’ responses follow:

Do you consider yourself folk?

Miri: Yes, especially in terms of storytelling and naming traditional GuriNgai names of lands and animals, carrying the language forward.

Thea: Yes, it’s so important to share stories, it’s how you communicate to the world; she tends to call her music ‘Red Roots Americana’ to show all of what goes into it.

Crystal: Yes, considering the beginnings of blues, country, which come from Folk; when she goes to folk festivals “everything makes sense.”

Aysanabee: Yes, although it’s funny how his music is perceived in different places. For example, Canada lists him as Alternative, Australia lists him as Indie Folk, and the UK lists him as Pop/Rock.

How do your cultural teachings influence your music and songwriting?

Aysanabee: Growing up in Thunder Bay, being seen as First Nations there is its own perspective, wasn’t a great one and music becomes an outlet for working through that.

Crystal: They come through in how she manages her career and dealings with others; for example, healing songs may have a jingle track, but what makes her music Indigenous is her, it’s intentional in some ways and it isn’t.

Thea: A lot of her songs have nature imagery, particularly reflecting the island and places where she grew up. “Where you’re from is who you are,” which is why so many of her songs have that theme.

Charlie/Miri: Each song they write is inspired by a specific story; they use field recordings from the bush, ask elders for names of animals and places, and incorporate language into the songs, and this practice aids in reconnecting with cousins and elders.

Do you feel safe sharing cultural knowledge? What do you wish non-Indigenous folks knew or understood?

Thea: It’s something which is in process, see revitalization in US, Canada, Australia/NZ, carrying forward for future generations. Colonization impacts the process, we all internalize, recognizing unconscious attitudes intentionally instilled. What are we working from? Sometimes shocked into silence. Lack of awareness outside of the Indigenous community. Non-Natives have been educated not to be sensitive to the humanity of Native people. Her advice is for Native artists to move with a sense of caution and try to understand the other perspective. Replace misperceptions with a greater truth.

Miri/Charlie: We definitely check in with elders to ensure language and stories can be shared. We need to see more Indigenous artists on the main stage and headlining instead of shunted off to the side, to the “First Nations Tent.”

Aysanabee: Here’s an example: understand when booking drum group how long of a time commitment you’re really asking for, with set-up, open and closing songs, efforts without consultation can be counter-productive

Crystal: Don’t treat Indigenous performers as an afterthought, or make assumptions about the type of music to expect. How much additional funding received by festivals/promoters for including Indigenous performers actually goes to the Indigenous artists/performers in terms of performance space, production, promotion, and payment? She’s seen more than once, Indigenous performers having to play on stages set way off to the side, or near the porta-johns, during music festivals.

When you collaborate with other Indigenous artists, how does your tradition and culture influence how you collaborate?

Aysanabee: Relates a story about a collaboration with another singer who asked everyone to scream “VAGINA!” over and over before writing a ‘sexy’ song – just using humor to break down those barriers, breaking anxiety and inhibitions with laughter – at this point, Nimkish broke in with “that’s the definition of Indigenous collaboration.”

Crystal: When collaborating with other Indigenous artists, we learn about each other’s culture, and it’s empowering.

Thea: She thinks about the “In The Roundhouse: A Celebration Of Indigenous Music” program she developed a few years back. Representation is important and allows the younger generation to see themselves doing this.

Miri: They’ve only had organic collaborations so far, and would love to collaborate more.

After the panel discussion, there was enough time for one question from the audience, and it did not disappoint.

What’s a word or phrase that comes to mind when thinking of Indigenous futures?

All: Healing; Connection; Children; Storytelling; HEALED, not just healing; Thriving

A disco nap, four cookies, a bag of Zapp’s chips, and half a can of C4 Jolly Rancher watermelon energy drink later, we were ready for Friday’s showcases. First up was the Hip Horns Brass Collective, whom I’d heard the night previous wandering the halls of the private showcases, but hadn’t seen, as the room was so packed, I couldn’t even make it through the doorway. But, I loved what I heard, so off we went to catch the Barcelona act.

Synchronized stage moves, deep grooves, big funk – what’s not to like? The vocalists were maybe the weakest part of the massive nine-piece ensemble, but the Hip Horns were a hot ticket. Their secret weapon is both their loose but in-the-pocket drummer and a trumpet player with a dizzying array of effects pedals.

After that came a frantic trip down a flight of stairs to see Steve Poltz. I was bummed to have missed the erstwhile Rugburns frontman in Lawrence last year and, after having ran into him in a stairwell the night prior and impressed upon him how much his band’s Taking the World By Donkey had impressed my friends nearly 30 years prior … yeah. I had to see the man. Superb fingerpicking paired equally well with sweetly gentle lyrics or hilariously absurd ones, and I think I might have to bust out some Rugburns when we get back to Lawrence or maybe just beg his publicist for his new and upcoming album, Joyride. You have to love anyone who gives over five minutes of a 25-minute set to a very hilarious story of how his mother ended up buying a set of Funk & Wagnall’s encyclopedias in 1967.

After a brief run to the corner store for a beer, I caught the tag end of Anna Moss’ exuberant set, completely unrestrained despite the dangling light above the stage which had come loose from a soffit. The audience danced with abandon during her closing set, as drums, singers, horns, and keys turned a hotel ballroom into a scene which wouldn’t have been out of place just a few blocks away in the French Quarter.

Even though I knew the West Texas Exiles were a powerhouse act, having seen them the last time Folk Alliance was in KC, that’s a hell of an act to follow. Nevertheless, this bluesy rock act rapidly became a favorite after Slimm (late of the Pairing, currently of RecordBurger) clued me into them at that time, and I knew they wouldn’t disappoint.

The Austin country rockers feel like a party at a BBQ joint every time I see them, and I feel like whatever I’m drinking is transsubstantiated into Lone Star by virtue of their two-step worthy twang. Somebody put them on a tour with Turnpike Troubadours and watch them find the fanbase they deserve. Any band which intros a song with “We’re gonna get a little weird and a little loud” is my kind of band.

The room running late basically meant I had to bail on later acts (no Rainbow Girls, alas) in order to make it back upstairs to the main ballroom for some Zydeco. Because Mr Nathan had been so charming on the panel with Irma Thomas earlier in the day, I had to catch his act, Nathan & the Zydeco Cha Chas.

When Scott Billington mentioned that he’d played harmonica on a Nathan Williams track during his panel earlier in the day, I hadn’t expected to see him onstage seven hours later, but there we were. Outside of the superb accordion work, Williams’ bass player was a monster, swampy as fuck, with a kind of sound which reminded me of the sort of thing Norwood Fisher used to bridge genres in Fishbone. The mix in the ballroom was, again, kind of a mess, but Nathan & the Zydeco Cha Chas were so undeniably talented, it didn’t stop a slew of people dancing from first note to last.

Afterwards, we managed to scoot downstairs and catch CAOIMHÍN, whose “new Gaelic tradition” was rhythmic and involving, while still feeling pleasantly ethereal. We might’ve been the only enthusiastic responses to a song being introduced as “pagan as fuck and futuristic as fuck,” but that’s kind of our jam.

The rest of the night was just bouncing around: Bandits on the Run for a little bit, Bosko Baker’s train-hopper folk punk, Lost Bayou Ramblers’ Zydeco, Les Izmore’s undefinable but amazing music that feels as though Sun Ra has found a vessel through which to channel his spirit – you know how it goes when you haven’t had any actual food in well over 10 hours and you’re treating pretzels and beer as substitutions.

Saturday, the final day of the conference, dawned gray and windy, with steadily declining temperatures. Any plans for getting out of the Sheraton to go further than a few blocks for coffee were going to be hampered by afternoon rains. Obviously not as bad as what folks were experiencing back home, but still – not a whole bunch of fun.

The plan for the day was panels on identity. First up was “On the Chitlin’ Circuit and Beyond: Touring While Black in Americana and Folk,” which connected “the past, present, and future of touring while Black, highlighting the cultural significance of historic venues, the lived experiences of contemporary artists, and the opportunities to build a more inclusive touring landscape.” Originally presented last September at Black Americana Fest, and featuring the same panelists, it really looked at the historical context and modern reality, with two panelists having rehabbed venues such as Casino Cabaret in Colorado Springs or New Orleans’ Dew Drop Inn alongside performers who have shared stages with chitlin’ circuit veterans like Kam Franklin did when she toured with Bobby Rush.

Bruce Sunpie Jones described the jukes as being institutions in the idea of that they functioned much like colleges, which is a concept which became so fascinating as it was explored–that the performers on the circuit were literally journeyman learning their craft and, because they could be themselves, were able to become the performers beloved by fans for decades.

Kam Franklin could give a Ted Talk on the modern state of the music industry and, frankly, she kinda did. It was angry and informed and clever and witty and I really, really feel honored to have been present for it, as she simultaneously exhorted the importance of small venues and the necessity of data in your business analysis.

After that was “Voices of Resistance: Tracing and Reclaiming Feminist Rhetoric in Women’s Folk Protest Music,” exploring “the rhetorical strategies of women in folk protest music, past and present, highlighting how female artists use storytelling, memory, and performance to confront injustice and foster civic voice.”

Not gonna lie: impressed by all the women who showed up, disappointed by how few men did. This is why panels like this are necessary. As moderator JC Clements put it early on, it’s necessary to frame everything within the idea of scapegoating as a narrative, vis-a-vis Hazel Dickens’ “Don’t put her down, you helped put her there,” or as the first question put to the panel framed things, “How does singing songs of resistance change your self perception or the wellness of your audience?”

Great answers and discussion, if a bit over-moderated. Elexa Dawson’s reflection of doing genealogy and frequently encountering “the unnamed woman” in the historical records led her to later write a song with her grandmother, whose musically rich life informed Dawson’s own approach, and it nailed a point of identity perfectly. Drawing strength from stories of your family is important, and it was reflected by so many people in the audience.

It was a LOT to get through in an hour, going from Odetta to the book The Pedagogy of the Oppressed to personal narratives to Bob Marley’s use of simple catchy tunes to convey a revolutionary message … just writing that out feels exhausting, but approaching big topics and tackling them in a room with artists from a variety of backgrounds is what makes these panels worth attending. As much as is answered, the end result is a bunch of people who will be questioning these concepts going forward, and getting louder with each sentence.

Dawson led a group sing of her own “Circle Song” to end the panel and it was SO BIG. I cried a little.

Between the panels and the final night’s showcases was a group sing of “Lift Ev’ry Voice and Sing” in the hotel lobby as a moment of connection, community, and resistance against the Alex Pretti shooting in Minneapolis.

As the Black American Music Summit said in their email regarding it, “The Folk community has a tradition of standing up for what’s right, and now is the moment to draw on that tradition again, climb onto the shoulders of giants to let them know that we are here and we shall not be moved.

We do this ’til we free us.”

Every voice was lifted, then led in a chant of “Who the folk? We the folk!” before a second line formed and sang “When the Saints Go Marching In” up the escalator, back down, and then back up again to the Black American Music Summit room, where “We Shall Overcome” was sung before OKAN took the stage to kick off their showcase. It was beautiful, collective, necessary, and powerful.

We’d seen the Cuban/Canadian duo OKAN when Folk Alliance was last in Kansas City, and their command of rhythm and vocal power has only grown. The joyous and infectious songs were a reminder of the fact folk music is so much more than just somebody singing old English songs with a guitar. This is the music of the people, and that’s all people.

From there, it was a mad dash up one floor to see the Colombian salsa sextet Las Guaracheras for more danceable tunes. Within 30 seconds of their first song starting, people were literally dancing into the room and up the aisles, with the band’s frontwoman pointing with glee at every dancer she saw. Even the slower numbers were rich as hell with sounds that made even those seated sway in their chairs. They could’ve played all night.

Alas, they only had 25 minutes, and then it was back downstairs for KC’s own Calvin Arsenia. He’s a treasure and a Folk Alliance staple, but Arsenia playing an official showcase is a very special thing. The packed room showed he’s known beyond the city limits, and the dead silence for Arsenia’s soulful folk was the most respectful audience of the whole conference. Just pin-drop attentiveness for his voice, which I’m pretty sure didn’t even need the microphone.

Then came a dinner break, because again – energy drinks and cookies aren’t real food. After what can only be described as “an adventure” getting Popeyes across the street, we somehow still made it to see Nigel Wearne & The Spectres play the small second floor ballroom. Their noir-meets-Morricone jazz was one of the first videos that grabbed my attention when going through the list of performers, and seeing them play an official stage was high on my list of priorities.

It was quite enjoyable, and would’ve been perfectly set for a basement speakeasy, with a sound somewhere between the Squirrel Nut Zippers’ swank sounds and the wild abandon of the World/Inferno Friendship Society, although their late start unfortunately meant I was only able to catch a short portion of their set before exiting to catch the Kingsville, Texas-based conjunto band Los Enmascarados, who perform in luchador masks.

Because I obviously wasn’t going to miss that, right? If only someone had thought to throw the night’s AAA lucha show on while they played, as it was happening at exactly the same time. Despite that, I hadn’t had so much fun seeing a band since last summer, when I watched a rodeo horse dance to a tamboraza band in Illinois. Long story, but this almost came close, especially when they dipped into cumbia halfway through their set. That sleepy shuffle never fails to put a smile on my face, but when they sped it back up afterward, a couple jumped up out of their seats, the guy threw his jacket off, and they two-stepped right in front of the stage.

Maybe it’s New Orleans, maybe it’s a desperate grasp at joy wherever it can found, but this Folk Alliance, I saw more people dancing than ever before.

Due to circumstances, I was stuck watching Senagalese musician Cheikh Ibra Fam’s last song from the hallway, but his music rang out just as well outside the crush of folks inside. His band was as smooth as his vocals, and it was just a wonderful way to end the conference, or so I thought.

I caught the first song of Los Cafeteras (although from within the room this time) and immediately made my way to the front of the room, where their hot, firey, and rhythmic sound had a packed dance floor in front of the stage as they wrapped up the official showcases. They played a ska-inflected number, then a slower anti-corruption song laced with hip hop, had a mic’d dance floor, and goddamn … they can do it all, and I am here for it. There was no way anything else was going to compete, so we took our leave and said goodnight, leaving on the highest of high notes.

Sunday night, we did make it to Tipitina’s for the closing night party, since we were literally right around the corner visiting friends, and had a lovely little time watching New Groove Brass Band and chatting with folks before catching the shuttle back to the hotel, packing, and crashing the fuck out.