Joan Baez Returns to State Theatre

On the evening of March 6, 2009, The State Theatre in the collegetown of Ithaca, New York, became a campground for the originators of cool, a revival of the old Woodstock spirit and a classroom filled with dulcet music . While the notorious driving rain was absent, and the show moved a little west of White Lake, Joan Baez certainly wasn't missing.

Long, white beards and archaic sayings like "oh, gee" were in plenty, as The State was overrun with a fascinating group of borderline geriatrics that have been with Baez from the beginning, which as of 2008, was fifty years ago. However, old and new fans alike were on Baez's wavelengths this evening because she clearly makes music for the purpose of sharing it with listeners, and perpetuating a message of togetherness and pacifism.

As a newcomer to the small, yet radical Joan Baez following, I was fortunate enough to find myself sitting next to a Monty Python-esque Cornell biology professor from the London area, who, while an avid Baez follower, was seeing her live for the first time as well. Not surprisingly, this gentleman who wished only to be referred to as the "crazy Brit," approached our first Joan Baez experience scientifically. He speculated that she would "sound just like the records," because it was amazing to see a "not current" artist sell out a venue.

Baez emerged fashionably late at around 8:10 p.m. She was the epitome of chic in jeans and a simple blouse. She has traded her iconic and often-emulated long black hair for a now almost entirely white pixie cut.

Baez began with "Lilly of the West," a fan favorite, met with undulations of applause, that epitomizes the folksy and organic sort of music for which she is famous. She gave the audience a Hindu Namaste bow, conveying that the light which shines within her bowed to the lights in all of us. She then said, "We have not just years, but decades of music to pass through tonight."

Skipping forward a few decades, she then played "Scarlet Tide," which was co-written by Elvis Costello and legendary producer "T-Bone" Burnett, from her newest album Day After Tomorrow (2008). While her newer music is certainly reminiscent of the days when it was just Baez and her guitar, the new additions of African drum, played by her son Gabe Harris, and mandolin accompaniment give the music a wonderfully global vibe.

A song that was a part of her Woodstock lineup, "Joe Hill," which praises the populist work of a Swedish-American IWW (International Workers of the World) activist, was also far from disappointing. Before singing she said, "I only do this song for audiences I like," to which the crowd responded with ecstatic applause, as though they knew that this song that guided many of them through the turbulent sixties and seventies was coming next.

While Baez was musically unfolding the last half-century on stage, the "crazy Brit" professor continued with his empirical observations on the performance, such as, "Please note the clarity of her voice and her pronunciation. You can't understand a thing of what most of them are saying today, but every word she sings is clear."

Baez and her gigantic voice commanded the stage with an authority that left one with the impression of attending a history class, on a day in which the lecture was far from run-of-the-mill.

With her to lecture, Professor Baez brought music that could only be described as a hybrid of polished hobo anthems, heard in the banjo accompaniment, and English folk songs. A fantastic example of this previously unheard of hybrid was Baez's rendition of "Rose of Sharon," a two-hundred-year-old British ballad.

After fifty cosmic and colorful years in the art of music making, Baez of course had some anecdotes to share during the lecture. To introduce another hit song of hers, "Farewell, Angelina," she told the audience about a few of the many insane but relatively harmless drifters who came to her house. One such stalker had a steel plate in his head and claimed to receive messages from outer space through it. Another wanted Baez to accompany him on a mission to "save the world" in his Volkswagen bus.

Religious music that definitely wouldn't be heard at Sunday school was also incorporated into our lesson. This was done with "When I Bid This World Goodbye," an old-timey gospel song that she described as one of her favorites. Her incredibly gifted band was also strong vocally, so much so that Baez and her four accompanying musicians had the clout of an entire church choir.

During her two encores, the lecture hall completed its metamorphosis into a cathedral. She began with an a cappella version of John Lennon's "Imagine," during which the audience served as backup singers. The iconic song instantly became a hymn.

After being beckoned back on to the stage for a second encore, Baez walked in front of her microphone, shot her hands upward, and began singing "Amazing Grace." The audience immediately joined her for "... how sweet the sound." The aforementioned lights in all of us were in unison, regardless of religion and ideology.

In spite of the lofty idealism Joan Baez plugs with songs that hope to resurrect Mahatma Gandhi and Woody Guthrie, the 50's folk singer who had a guitar labeled "this machine kills fascists," there is no one quite as grounded and down-to-earth. After witnessing the sermon, history lesson and exalted music that comprise the Joan Baez experience, one can only hope that this preacher, professor and musician can continue to wow her audiences through the equally troubling and uncertain decades to come.