|
"I never think about it as having any weight," Banghart said of the distinction. "That and probably $2 gets me a latte."
In the mid-1970s, Henry and Banghart were simply two guys who liked to have a good time and play music. In 2004, they still are. Still, ask anyone who's been a musician for 30 years, or anyone who's stuck with anything for that long, and they'll tell you what it means to make the festival a part of their lives for three decades.
"It's part of the rite of passage during the year," Banghart said. "It's what happens in the spring. Some years I'm real active. Some years I'll drop in on a Thursday night and leave on Monday morning, because I'm working out of town. Other years I'm here all week, and we entertain like crazy and there's a ton of people."
"To some extent, my year kind of aims toward the folk festival," Henry said. "There's an annual problem of having enough songs that are good enough to break out at the festival. I'm at least a song short this year. We'll see whether I can come up with something."
Pat's daughter, Katie Henry, was 7 when she attended the first festival at the Alaska State Museum. She's attended or played in every festival except the 13th, when she was an exchange student in Norway.
"In our house there would always be a prelude to the festival, which included a lot more sitting around and playing than previously," she said. "Everything was ramped up for a month or two ahead of time, and as years went on, it became a point of pride for my dad to make sure he's had some new songs for the festival. I inherited it. It's not that bad to have a musical ass-kicking."
When Pat Henry plays his 15-minute set at 8:45 p.m. Friday, April 16, at Centennial Hall, it will be the 30th straight year he's played on the main stage. He will also host a finger-picking blues guitar workshop at 3 p.m. Saturday, April 17.
"Almost every time I go to the festival, I hear two or three people that have a good idea that I didn't think of, and I steal from them if I can," Henry said. "I guess that's basically the governing principle. Steal shamelessly if you're able to."
Banghart has played in all 30 festivals, but performed solely in one of the dance bands in the Armory for a few of those. He will play with the Shrieking Badgers at 9 p.m. Wednesday, April 14, in Centennial Hall; with the C-Notes at 10 p.m. Friday, April 16, in the armory; and with the Sofa Kings at 8:45 p.m. Sunday, April 18, in Centennial Hall.
"If it was just on charm, I don't think the festival would have gone on," Banghart said. "The facts are that the players get together, there's a lot of peer contact, there's a lot of support and the best players are afforded the same thing as the novice players. You cop an attitude here, you've got hell to pay. People will tear you apart, and that's good for beginning musicians and more experienced players to see."
Ten years ago, Henry, Banghart and festival co-founder Bob Pavitt were the lone three musicians to have played in all 20 years. Pavitt convinced Henry and Banghart to join him on-stage for a set. That raises the question: Will Henry and Pavitt play on-stage together this year? Nothing is scheduled, but that doesn't mean one of them can't join the other for an impromptu song. Henry and Banghart do not play together often, outside of the occasional jam.
"It probably wouldn't be that hard, because Bob's a consummate musician," Henry said. "He can play with anybody, anytime."
Henry was already an experienced blues player when he moved to Juneau from Auburn, Ala., with his family in April 1974.
"When I got here I was struck by there being what seemed like an uncommon number of musicians that liked to sit around and have a party or just hang out together and drink a couple of beers and play music," Henry said. "The festival was conceived as an event for musicians and would-be musicians. It was a bit of an event, and people tried to make it a chance to really perform in public. I didn't really do very much except show up and play."
Katie soon joined him on stage, singing to accompany him on blues guitar. One memorable year, his son Hiram joined them.
"I don't remember which (festival) it was, but it was probably the eighth or the 10th or something like that," Henry said. "And that year one of my fresh songs was about $100 bills falling from the sky."
"We got Hiram an old bag, a burlap cash bag, and put a dollar sign on it, and we filled it up with $1 bills that were folded into airplanes," Katie Henry said.
"Katie and I were singing, and Hiram was throwing these dollar bills into the audience," Pat said. "And I thought that was pretty cool. After a while people realized they were real dollar bills, and they started passing them on while the song went on. The air became full of flying dollar bills. I carry that vision in my head."
Banghart moved to town in the 1970s and was part of the circle that organized the first festival. He served on the board through the 20th festival in 1994.
"At first it was just a bunch of yo-yos looking for spare change to get something going," Banghart said. "It was a lot of carrying chairs and loading things into pickup trucks. It was wide open; it was crazy. No one had any ambitions for it, and it did wonderfully well.
"The festival is a good example of where you provide an opportunity, and you cut everything back and open up the playing field, put up an open sign, and people come," he said. "It relates to something inherently human about the process. It's not about the money. It's not about fame, fortune. It's about relating and improving as human beings, as players, and that's why people come to it."
   
|