Some things really don’t change and that’s a good thing when talking about the Philadelphia Folk Festival. Aug. 14-17 at the Old Pool Farm in Upper Salford Township, Pennsylvania 2025 marked its 62nd year carrying on a tradition that has brought generations of fans together through music, community and storytelling.
Few performers embodied the spirit of the festival more than John McCutcheon. The veteran folk musician wove humor, history and humanity into a set that stretched across instruments and traditions.
One of my favorite moments of the entire weekend was when he played the Woody Guthrie favorite, “Grand Coulee Dam,” on hammered dulcimer, before switching to banjo for a touching song written for his son Willie. McCutcheon shared a piece he wrote during a 21-day quarantine at a cabin with his dog — a tribute to his friend John Prine.
Though nursing a busted ankle that sidelined his planned pilgrimage on the Camino de Santiago in Spain, McCutcheon was undeterred. “Carrie, we are songwriters — we make up crap all the time,” he joked, before telling a story of four different people walking the Camino for four very different reasons.
He paid tribute to the festival itself, for all the volunteers who arrived early and stayed late – thanking stage crew, camera operators and the everyone who make it all possible. From autoharp (or what he said Sears once dubbed the idiot zither) to Carter Family songs, McCutcheon reminded the crowd of folk’s deep roots.
He ended with a familiar Woody Guthrie song that was never recorded or performed live – it was one of six written during the night of Feb. 23, 1940 Guthrie spent at the Hanover House hotel at 101 West 43rd Street in New York City. But, once taught to elementary school teachers, it became a classic – “This Land Is Your Land.” “I’ve been singing it a lot lately to remind me that we all belong to one another,” he said, earning a roar of approval.
Since the passing of Gene Shay, folksinger John Flynn has taken up the mantle of emcee on the Martin Guitar Main Stage. Despite heat and showers, he kept spirits high with his sharp wit and compassion. He drew laughs with many classic one-liners. One of my favorites – “Why don’t seagulls fly over the bay? Because then they’d be called bagels.”
On Saturday, Grammy-winning fiddler Eileen Ivers was a major draw. She brought Irish music and storytelling to the Folk Fest stage with a set that celebrated the resilience of immigrants and the shared journey of cultures.
Ivers channeled the spirit of Uncle Bunt, the 18th-century fiddle champion who once won $1,000, a car, a new suit and a new set of teeth, ripping into “Don’t You Rock Me Daddy-O” and “Sail Away Ladies.” With looping and improvisation, she transformed the violin into a wah-wah pedal, guitar and even a voice, showing just how versatile the instrument can be.
She brought down the house with “Ghosts of Mississippi,” with her bassist playing harmonica, who also shredded mandolin and picked up a penny whistle. Her set connected the Irish immigrant story to American folk traditions, from Lead Belly to the gandy dancers who laid the railroads.
She was the reason my friend Bert wanted to come to the festival on Saturday so it was a treat to sit front row with him and his wife Laurel to see the saturday night concerts, with Ivers being the highlight of the night.
Tim O’Brien and his wife Jan Fabricius shared intimate harmonies and stories. Their performance of “When You Pray, Move Your Feet” carried the wisdom of an African proverb once championed by the late John Lewis, inspiring the crowd to link song with action.
Like every Folk Fest, beyond the legends were discoveries: from the barn sparrows who were swooping in and around the main stage and a buzzworthy performance by Cedric Watson et Bijou Creole, a New Orleans-inspired band that had the campground buzzing late into the night.
At its heart, the Philadelphia Folk Festival remains a place where audiences discover new artists while celebrating the traditions that keep folk music alive. Whether it was a hammered dulcimer, Irish fiddle, or a witty one-liner about seagulls and bagels, the 62nd annual gathering once again showed why “Philly Folk” is a treasured institution.
