Folk music festivals are not a good place to pick up chicks.

I’ve been a fan of “folk music,” whatever the hell that is, for quite a few years now. And despite my infatuation of all things acoustic, I still can’t “connect” with the phenomenon that has become “folk music.” And from what I see from the yearly folk festival I attend here in sunny South Florida, most of the rest of the world can’t either.

I guess I’m lucky to live in a place that actually does promote “folk music,” whatever that is. We have a very active “folk community” in the three southern counties that make up South Florida. On Sunday afternoon there is a folk music show on the local public radio station. And to top it all off once a year there is the South Florida Folk Festival, a gathering of people who love “folk music,” whatever that is.

The first thing you will notice at one of these Folk Festivals is just how genuinely weird the people are that attend. For some reason “folk music,” whatever that is, seems to attract disenfranchised folks. I got no problem with that, as I count myself as one of them. However, the attendees of a folk music festival do seem to be in a parallel universe. There are probably more tie-dye tee shirts per square acre that any other place on the globe. Many of the attendees of a folk fest are 60’s dropout’s that never took the time to drop back in. For sale you’ll find incense, tribal paraphernalia, eastern philosophy, head shop mojo and ultra-liberal propaganda. I would imagine that Republican’s might make up less than five percent, if that much, of the crowd of a folk music festival. Just try wearing a Bush campaign button to one of these things and see the looks you’ll get.

I’m not sure how “folk music,” whatever that is, got such a weird, liberal slant. Undoubtedly much of it came from the liberal ‘60’s New Yorker’s who adopted the rural, southern music in the folk boom nearly fifty years ago. But somewhere along the line American folk music strayed from its roots of being the music of the common people of the south, to the political music of the liberal elite. And with this came the transformation of the music of the common people, mainly revolving around religious and themes of everyday life, into music that is politically motivated. Sure “folk music,” whatever that is, has always had political themes, but they we’re just a small part of the music, not the central core.

In the last few years I can’t help but notice how large the female and lesbian influence has become in folk music. In fact, this years South Florida Folk Festival was so heavily biased with female performers, that quite a few of the attendee’s couldn’t help but dub it the “South Florida Estrogen Fest.” From my best estimation about sixty percent of the performers in the songwriting competition were women. I’m not sure what conclusions to draw from the numbers, but either the women are taking over the “folk music” universe, or the men are literally heading for the hills. Either way, as the title of this article states, folk festivals are a really lousy place to pick up chicks. Now I for one don’t understand the whole “gay” thing. As a straight, white, male of European extraction, it just doesn’t make much sense to me. Call it a genetic flaw. But I do have to wonder why lesbians do have such an affectation for folk music. Homosexual men don’t seem to have a predisposition to this art. In fact, from what I can tell, gay men prefer top 40 radio, disco and show tunes. I can’t think of music that could be further off the dial from folk music. Maybe someone would be kind enough to explain this to me, without yelling.

Now before you start calling me a misogynist, let me go on record as being a big fan of female songwriters. From Joni Mitchell to Gillian Welch and Odetta to Ani DiFranco, I’m a big fan of the form. But so many of the current crop of female “folk musicians” seem to fall into a niche of what I call, “Really bad open-tuning guitar players with short haircuts.” Watching many of these performers ply their craft on-stage in the songwriting competition this year was nothing short of cruel and unusual punishment. The guitar playing is so off and the songwriting is so bad, I can only think of John Belushi smashing that guitar in Animal House. Don’t get me wrong; I’m actually the first to champion “folk music,” whatever that is, as a folk art for the common man. But these are people hoping to become professionals and make a living as a musician. Someone needs to stand up and tell them that they either need to commit more of their free time learning to play guitar and write or go finish that degree. Fathers’ of the world listen to me: “Stop paying for their Village apartments and tell them to get a job!”

In some way’s it comes as no surprise that “folk music,” whatever that is, has become so marginalized. In recent years the resurgence of bluegrass, old-timey music and blues has grown by leaps and bounds, but folk music still seems to be in a parallel universe. Instead of embracing these more popular forms of folk music, the aging Village folkie types have circled the wagons. The movers and shakers of old-timey and alt-country music, performers such as Gillian Welch, Ryan Adams, Lucinda Williams, T. Bone Burnette and others have found a home in Nashville, Austin and even L.A. Folk Rock old timers and revivalists such as Roger McGuinn and Tom Petty are no-shows at folk festivals. Blues has become so successful with the aging boomers, just the audience the folk music niche would seem to appeal to, that many rusting Mississippi Delta towns are banking their budgets on Blues and the House of Blues is more popular than the Hard Rock Cafe in most cities. And the best folkies can muster is a mocumentary that’s more mainstream than “folk music,” whatever that is.

But after all is said and done, I’ll still hold a special place in my heart for “folk music,” whatever that is. I’ll still attend a festival here and there. I’ll still listen to my complete collection of the Carter Family, Charlie Patton, Doc Boggs, Roscoe Holcombe and the rest. And I’ll still know that I have a place to go to that most radio consumers and Britney lovers will never know. Even though I don’t wear a tie-dye and will vote for George Bush in the next election.