RIP Utah Phillips

Just received the sad word that this great folksinger, storyteller, and rabble rouser left us over the weekend. Back in 1997, I had a memorable conversation with Phillips and Ani DiFranco about music and politics--the full story is included in my book Rock Troubadours. Phillips had just received a lifetime achievement award from Folk Alliance, and I loved this little fable he told onstage when accepting the honor. Later he retold it to me on the phone, as follows...

"The only problem with being made top folkie is the young ones--they come looking for you.

"I walked through the swinging doors of my local music store, my 1935 Gibson slung low on my hip. And there he was in the street, waiting for me: the kid. He plugged his Ovation guitar into his effects box, leveled it at me, and sprayed me with a burst of highly autobiographical, metaphorical verbiage. I flinched. Slowly I raised my 1935 Gibson and plugged him with the first two verses of 'Red River Valley.' He fell to the ground, stunned by the simplicity of an authorless folk song. I looked at him, lying there in a widening pool of angst. I slowly lowered my 1935 Gibson guitar and muttered under my breath, 'OK, who’s next?' as I turned and stalked into the postmodern deconstructionist night."

Utah, you will be missed.