Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound...

There is something about the theater that makes it feel like a sacred space. I grew up in the suburbs of New York City, so I spent many weekends watching theater, participating in theater, going to the ballet, being in the ballet, etc. As they say in one of my favorite musicals, “A Chorus Line,” everything certainly is beautiful at the ballet. When I walk into a theater, the outside world disappears. There is something about the soft lighting, the cave-like shape, and the fact that you are in a confined space with 1000 or even 10,000 strangers who are all there for a common purpose, that enables us to make that space our world for 2 hours or so. Receiving phone calls or email is not only discouraged, but usually pretty difficult given the noise and crowd; Chit chat is also discouraged and quite difficult; everything that annoys us in day to day life is not allowed in the theater. Reverence for the performer is required, and a certain amount of decorum is required. How fitting, then, that the legendary Joan Baez closes her concerts by asking the audience to rise and join her in singing “Amazing Grace.”

You knew I was going somewhere with this didn’t you? The other night, I had the opportunity to see Joan Baez play a concert in CT. I knew she was on tour this summer, and since she was one of the folk singers I have never seen live before, I thought I should take this opportunity before it’s uh, too late. I was worried about going to begin with, because I was in the middle of apartment hunting, and felt like if I had too much else to worry about, I wouldn’t be able to fully enjoy the show. That may have been true, but for those two hours, I took the opportunity to enjoy the calm and reverence in the air when Joan took the stage. Granted, I was the youngest audience member by about 30 years (I wish I could have taken my mom with me), but I really enjoyed the chance to be a part of a legacy that’s meant a lot to many people. The gold archways of the theater architecture, combined with the hushed responsiveness from the audience, then added with this sort of sage of a woman with an angelic voice who sings about peace and justice and all that, and the experience really did feel like church.

I will admit that I didn’t know many of the songs she sang towards the beginning of her set, but in the meantime I also enjoyed hearing her take on some songs I never knew she covered. For instance, “The House of the Rising Sun,” which I apparently know from the recording by The Animals in 1964. (I swore there was a cover of this by an alternative band in the 90’s, but it’s not mentioned anywhere on Wikipedia.) She also does a rousing, upbeat rendition of “The Scarlet Tide,” a song written by Elvis Costello, made most famous by Allison Kraus. I smiled when she started playing it, because I had been listening to a cover of it by Brandi Carlile and her sister Tiffany in the car, and hearing one of the originators of modern folk music sing it kind of made it all come together for me. If anyone ever tries to tell me again that Brandi Carlile, the Indigo Girls, Dar Williams and anyone of that ilk would still be around if not for Joan Baez, I will definitely win that argument.

However, the fun part really came at the end of the show. She packed her two encores with her most recognizable and singable songs, turning the theater into a sort of gospel choir. She finally pulled out “Forever Young,” “Diamonds and Rust,” “Imagine,”* and “The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down.” The audience not only sang along enthusiastically, but she even got us to harmonize at one point. I’m showing my young, naïve age here when I admit that the first time I heard of Joan Baez was on the Forrest Gump soundtrack, which features her cover of Dylan’s “Blowin’ in the Wind.” Since then, I have been an avid fan of folk music and fascinated with the folk music movement itself. But I can only read about what it was like to be a part of this movement in the 60s and 70s, or try to relive it via today’s annoying retro-hipsters. What was fascinating and fun about last night’s concert is that the audience wasn’t there to relive their youth. They were reverent and nostalgic, and perhaps reminded of the messages of peace and common decency that are still relevant today.

*On a separate note, this marks the second time this summer that I’ve heard a live cover of “Imagine,” the first one being at the Glee concert. I wonder who will bust out with it next!