Newport Folk Festival 1965
It was a steamy Asbury Park Saturday night, in the Summer of 1965. The small club where I hung out and occasionally sat in on acoustic guitar with a group of musicians who called themselves The Solipse Singers (and who later became the eclectic - and iconic, in the minds of some - band The Insect Trust) had no air conditioning. But because the club was in a basement, it was a little cooler. The dank overlay of spilled beer and stale cigarette smoke somehow made it tolerable.
Sometimes, I wonder whether a young Bruce Springsteen might have stopped by on one of those hot Saturday nights. It was Asbury Park after all, and not far from the boardwalk. I'll have to ask him, the next time I see him. Yeah, right.
"Like A Rolling Stone" was on the radio all the time that Summer, and Bob Dylan's transition to electric guitar in the studio was complete. Although we didn't know it at the time, a group called The Hawks was playing at a bar in nearby Somers Point, and would join Dylan after Newport as "The Band". We too were done with folk music, and more than ready to inject some good old rock and roll into our folk sound.
After the group's last set, we packed up and toked up and some of us ended up at at Nancy's house, and everyone thought that it might be a good idea to go to the Newport Folk Festival. Bob Dylan was scheduled to appear at the Sunday evening concert, which was more than enough for us.
Nancy suggested that we take my 1956 Ford, and I said "Sure!" By now, it was 2AM Sunday. I would be surprised if all of us had more than twenty dollars between us, but things were far less expensive then, and we didn't really concern ourselves with such trivial considerations. We were going to see Dylan at Newport.
The Insect Trust., circa 1970
I don't remember much about the drive, other than Nancy spotting a car ahead of us with the license plate "FEET", which (along with the drugs we had ingested) caused protracted laughter and hilarity, from Milford all the way to the other side of New Haven on the Connecticut Turnpike.
Shortly after sunrise, we entered the Festival grounds, which I remember as not being paved. It was overcast, and already steamy, but the salt air smelled much better than the club did the night before. Somehow we got inside the gate. I don't remember paying any admission. Times were different then.
We must have eaten something, but I don't remember what it was. What I do remember is the Chambers Brothers playing "People Get Ready" at the morning gospel session. We wandered around, stopping at workshops that interested us, until it was time for the afternoon concert.
Finding the front row unoccupied, we were settling in to the sounds of Richard and Mimi Farina when the skies opened and a brief but intense torrent of rain hit. There was no time or place to escape to, so we all just got wet. Very wet. And actually, it felt pretty good, and cooled everything off, in a good way.
Butterfield Blues Band. Elvin Bishop, Mike Bloomfield, Paul Butterfield.
After the rain ended, the Farinas continued. And then it was the Paul Butterfield Blues Band. The drugs had worn off, but the music kicked in and we were transported by it. Nancy said "Isn't that Dylan in the polka dot shirt?", pointing to a cluster of musicians at the side of the stage, behind the speakers as the Butterfield Band concluded it's set.
"Yeah, it is," I said. They were assembling for a brief sound check for that evening's performance. So we got to see the rehearsal of the legendary evening concert - the one that Elijah Wald so perfectly captured in his fine book, "Dylan Goes Electric". Dylan had assembled members of the Butterfield Band as a backing group, which included Mike Bloomfield and Elvin Bishop - two outstanding guitar players. I remember All Kooper being there as well, on keyboard.
The sun came out just as they launched into "Maggie's Farm" and we were blown away. I remember some booing in the audience (there allegedly was more booing at the evening performance), but none of it was from our row. We couldn't make out all the words, but the sound and the attitude was exactly what we were looking for. Dead on.
We hung around for the rest of the afternoon workshops and activities, but we felt the adrenaline from the Dylan sound check beginning to run out and we made our way back to the car, and, eventually, home.
So I can always say that I was there when Dylan went electric - just not at the evening concert. But it was every bit as transformative for this bunch of young musicians as it would have been had we stayed around - maybe more.