Folk Alliance in Memphis

It was three long days of driving down to Memphis with Sam, and we got there on Wednesday—the first day of the Folk Alliance conference, where we would spend the next five days showcasing, going to workshops, meeting folks, and getting totally inspired by the music.

The entire hotel is taken over by musicians and people in the music industry—all passionate about music and songwriting and performing. Because of this, it often felt like a homecoming. Of course, the Canadians showed a strong presence and we loved running into our friends from across the country. Check out Revival Dear from Toronto

Our days were spent taking in bits of Memphis, but mostly going to workshops and lectures and concerts. After dinner was more music—the official showcases ran from 6-10 each night. But then the real frenzy of music exploded.

Colin Linden and Paul Reddick. I've been talking to Colin about producing the next album.

The top three floors of the hotel were reserved for private showcases. Anyone could rent a showcase room and present music in the afternoon and late evening. We performed in seven showcases over the course of the conference, and in between performances, we meandered from room to room. Each room was often decorated and rearranged—mattresses folded or removed—to create a “showcase space.” As we wandered among the rooms, we got to see some of North America’s finest performers and songwriters in this crazy, bizarre and intimate setting. From Swedish sisters to classic folk heroes, from banjo pickers to guitar riffers, each performance was completely unique and inspiring.

Of course, there was little time to sleep. Night after night, we went to bed at 4am, but each morning I woke at 8, finding it impossible to sleep. I shared a room with Curt, my sideman Sam, and our roommate Allison Lickley, a beautiful mousey songwriter from Montreal who I had never met prior to the conference. So I tried to silently slip out into the day without rousing the house, and went wandering around downtown Memphis.

I came to the conclusion that Beale Street—full of blue’s bars, including B.B. King’s—was not meant to be witnessed in the morning. I felt almost like a voyeur, spying on a woman putting on her makeup while she’s still in her nightgown. Nonetheless, I scouted out a great place for breakfast this way.