Renowned folk singer-songwriter Joan Baez has undergone a transformation in her vocal tone, yet her core message remains steadfast.
MUSIC-BAEZ-QANDA—Ever since making a barefoot entrance onto the stage at the 1959 Newport Folk Festival, Joan Baez has stood as a prominent figure in the realm of folk music. Celebrating her 75th birthday with a star-studded concert in New York, later aired on PBS, she now finds herself on a touring journey.
Baez, a pivotal figure in introducing Bob Dylan in the early 1960s, boasts a discography of over 30 albums, featuring hits such as her rendition of The Band's "The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down" and her original "Diamonds and Rust." Beyond her musical prowess, she's equally renowned for her activism, having marched alongside Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. and Cesar Chavez. Her current tour aligns with Amnesty International, advocating against racial and ethnic disparities in incarceration.
In a recent conversation with The Washington Post from the road in Ithaca, New York, Baez delves into moments of contemplating quitting, adapting to a new vocal range, navigating the political climate, and a notable encounter with Taylor Swift onstage last summer.
"My parents embraced Quakerism, exposing me to the meditation that places human beings above flags and nation-states. Non-violence became my bedrock, settling in by the age of 10. When I picked up the ukulele at 13 and started singing, it wasn't second nature; it was the intertwining of my first nature with music. The comfort lies in blending the two seamlessly."
"While I was already on that path, a couple of experiences stand out. High school gatherings organized by the activist wing of the Quakers, the American Friends Service Committee, introduced me to the ethos. At 16, Martin Luther King Jr. became a guest speaker, and witnessing the tangible aspects of non-violence - bus boycotts, people on the streets taking risks - left an indelible mark on my belief system."
"Initially immersed in rhythm and blues, a Pete Seeger concert, courtesy of my aunt, crystallized everything for me. He made sense, and I became addicted to his albums. Belafonte and Odetta followed suit, blending elements crucial to me into their music. Pete, especially, took monumental risks and paid for them."
"Luck played its part when my voice matured. Landing in the Cambridge scene was fortuitous. From intimate coffee shops to Newport, the folk scene grew, garnering an overwhelming international response."
"Were these songs studied? Not really. Illiterate in reading music, learning happened through osmosis. Sneaking around coffee shops with cohorts, absorbing desired tunes, seeking guidance from performers, and drawing inspiration from albums like Lead Belly's deep Southern blues."
In reshaping this narrative, the goal is to infuse a rich tapestry of complexity, diversity, and unpredictability, aligning with the nuances of human expression.
