The Flatlanders
Newport Folk Festival,
Newport, Rhode Island, August 4 The Newport Folk Festival has been the site of some very significant happenings in the world of music: Bob Dylan introduced his electric band here (to unabashed disapproval by the dogmatic acoustic crowd), Joan Baez wooed the crowd for years, as did all the Seegers, not to mention that blues came to the attention of a new audience when George Wein and company introduced the likes of Son House, Lightnin’ Hopkins, Sleepy John Estes, and Muddy Waters himself to a young, mostly white audience. Into this hallowed setting appeared a long-lost Texas twister, sharing the bill with Emmylou Harris, the Indigo Girls, Gillian Welch, and Nanci Griffith. With a lineup like this, where do Lubbock legends, Joe Ely, Jimmie Dale Gilmore, and Butch Hancock, reunited this summer as the Flatlanders, stand? Truth is, it’s hard to say. Gilmore, at least, has played Newport before, but since he (or was it Ely?) commented on stage that the producers were billing them as a bluegrass band, seems like the producers might not be sure either. It made no difference, ultimately, because, as you might expect, this West Texas power trio put out more energy than most of the other acts combined, not to mention that their songwriting was yacht-lengths ahead. Pity is, much of the wit and subtle (or otherwise) music making was lost on this unsuspecting crowd perched on the banks of beautiful Narragansett Bay. Like three gunslingers, their aim was true, it’s just that the target was a bit hard to focus on. Performing a set of primarily new material, the Flatlanders were only able to really connect with the audience a couple of times. Hancock’s up-tempo oldie, “One Road More,” and Ely’s read on Terry Allen’s “Gimme a Ride to Heaven, Boy,” were particularly well-received and justifiably so, while Gilmore’s “Wildest Dreams” even had a few folkies up dancing. There was plenty more to rouse, too. Hancock’s humor and harmonica and Ely’s occasional dobro work were tasty accents in a dynamic set that would have brought down the house at home, but playing a venue only a couple hours from the Plymouth Rock, where the audience can’t drink beer while enjoying some of the world’s greatest music, must be less than inspirational from the vantage point of the performers. But, guys, the show was great! Some of us out here are praying for more chances to see the Flatlanders again and waiting for that album to document all the new material generated by this reunion of three wonderfully creative talents. More legend than band, indeed.
This article appears in August 10 • 2001.