I arrived just in time to see Smith sauntering on stage and hear the crowd erupt in a cacophony of cheers and joyous yelps.
Smith was accompanied by her band, which featured two grizzled, experienced looking guitarists and the stage was set for the performance of a living legend.
From the moment Smith opened her mouth and sang the first notes of a song about redemption—a fitting opener to a new year of Ottawa Folk Fest—multiple people in the crowd began tearing up and grinning uncontrollably. This performance had clearly attracted numerous intense—and more than likely lifelong—fans of Patti, as there were immediate proclamations of love and admiration.
As the show continued it was plain to see why Smith inspires such diehard admiration from her fans.
Her voice sounded just as biting, sonorous, and beautiful today as it did on her defining 1975 debut album “Horses.” Smith was a pivotal figure in the blossoming New York punk scene of the 1970’s and the frantic energy and sense of urgency of the genre she helped defined still courses powerfully through Smith’s veins and resonates through her majestically weathered vocal chords.
Smith was a whirling dervish on stage. She careened from one side of the stage to the other, her long silvery locks whipping around frantically as she spat on the stage intermittently as she went, only pausing to salute the crowd. Her voice also has such an astounding range. She can go from singing in a gentle gossamer whisper to a bristling, booming howl without skipping a beat.
Smith took a break near the middle of the set and let her band rattle off a medley of early garage rock classics, which they described as folk music, in the sense that it was the result of Appalachian kids finding electric guitars and letting loose. During their medley Smith got up close and personal with the crowd, running the length of the front row and down the centre aisle, touching people’s hands and excitedly thanking everyone for coming.
Between her supremely energetic songs, Smith’s stage presence was laid back and refreshing—at one point she described herself as being nervous in the earlier part of the set because she was having a bad hair day. But now she had loosened up and was ready to bust out her guitar.
At another point she was distracted by a plane flying through the sky shortly after singing a song that had to do with being taken away by aliens and she responded directly, and warmly, to people that called out to her from the crowd.
As the set began to wind down to a close Smith grew even more energetic, planting her leather boot clad foot commandingly on the speaker in front of her as she belted out the final notes to a powerful protest song that extolled the virtues of voting and the power of the people, even managing to throw in a few topical lines about Syria. The rebellious nature of punk music was definitely present in tonight’s performance and Smith demonstrated the continued relevance and adaptability of her original musical vision.
Just before the final song, Smith and her cohorts began howling like dogs, baying at the moon in order to usher in the new festival and many people in the crowd, myself included, triumphantly joined in.
For the final song of their night Smith busted out the song that started it all, “Gloria,” the opening track from her first album. It was a spirited performance of a near perfect song and an extremely badass start to a great weekend of music.
