Lucy Kaplansky at S.P.A.C.E. in Evanston, Illinois
An Evening of Folk Songs
Last night, we sat at the bar and shared a stellar veggie pizza at Union before heading back to chat with the great folksinger Lucy Kaplansky before her 7:30 p.m. performance at S.P.A.C.E.
My husband and Lucy met in high school and lived in the same Hyde Park building after David’s family moved back to Chicago from Mexico. It’s nice to keep in touch via social media, but nothing beats seeing old friends in person. She also invited another childhood friend and her husband backstage, like the last time she was in town, and we sat with them during the performance.
Aside from being ageless and adorable, Lucy looks delicate, but on stage, she’s an engaging force. She randomly chooses songs (she says that she doesn’t plan her shows), moves from guitar to piano to mandolin, and responds gracefully when long-time fans call out songs they want to hear.
I was delighted when someone asked for a favorite of mine, A Song About Pi, one of Irving Kaplansky’s songs. Lucy’s father was a respected U Chicago mathematician who dabbled at playing piano and composing. Lucy tries to sing one of his songs at each of her performances. You’ve got to hear this one, especially if you like math, and then listen to Kaplansky Squared, Lucy’s rereleased CD of more of Irving’s songs.
During her show, she tells stories about her neighborhood, her experiences, her family, watching her adopted daughter grow up, and worrying about her attending college even though NYU is just four blocks away.
Some of Lucy’s songs are dark and sad — like the one she wrote about the late Phillip Seymour Hoffman, who lived in the neighborhood and used to walk his kids to the same school that Lucy’s daughter attended. Some songs are sweetly moving, like the one by Nancy Griffiths with which she closed the show.
I don’t listen to that much folk singing anymore, probably because I can’t help hearing the repeated chord sequences and find myself longing for an occasional 9th, a jazz progression, an improvisatory flight. But the lyrics and the stories shine in folk music, and sometimes, I just want to sit back and listen to Lucy Kaplansky.
She’s collaborated with some all-time greats, like Dar Williams (The Christians and the Pagans is a must-listen) and Shawn Colvin (who won a Grammy for Sonny Came Home). Sitting at S.P.A.C.E. reminded me of the old AmazingGrace Coffeehouse that started on the Northwestern Campus and moved around Evanston until it closed in 1978.
Starting in high school, I loved going to those concerts and remember seeing some of Chicago’s great folk performers, like Jim Post, Steve Goodman, Corky Siegal, and Bonnie Koloc. Does anyone remember the song “The Dogs They Had a Party?” I thought it was ingenious, although it was kind of gross.
Later, I think I saw Randy Newman, Tom Rush, and some other performers who were starting, but that could have been at some other Chicago venue, like the Old Town School or Holsteins on Lincoln Ave, where I remember having a post-concert drink with a cute drummer (before getting back in my mom’s red Chevrolet and heading home).
Something doesn’t work about that story though — I didn’t walk into bars by myself back then, so what happened to the friends I came in with? Did they have drinks with other band members, and did we all leave together? How’d they get home if I was the one who drove?
Take notes, young grasshoppers, because even if you think you will NEVER forget seeing a great performer, half a century will blow by in a heartbeat, and you’ll only vaguely recall that you saw Jeremy Piven, John Cusack, and Aidan Quinn doing improv (or something, who knows what) on a small stage in Evanston, Illinois. Or that time you saw Jethro Tull at the Chicago Stadium, and everyone swayed, holding up electric lighters at the end (wasn’t that a fire hazard?).
I’ve already forgotten which songs Lucy Kaplansky sang on Wednesday night, less than 48 hours ago, but I won’t forget her low, rich voice or her songs of longing, loss, growth, and remembering.
Go see her if you can — she’s in her sixties, and they’re not making folksingers the way they used to.
