Five songs that prove Joan Baez is an underrated pioneer of folk
If you’re a writer, you probably know what it’s like to people-watch and imagine stories for everyone that passes by. That old man with the monocles and suspenders? Used to be the talk of the town, frequenting his local bar every Friday night with new stories to tell that had people gasping in awe. Sometimes, he dreams he’s still there, only to wake up and tell his wife all about the “good old days”. It goes on: people become stories, even if we’re way off in our predictions. That’s part of the fun. Somehow, listening to Joan Baez makes life always feel like this kind of anything goes.
Others might simply call that “folk”. But, in reality, it goes beyond that, doesn’t it? It holds a different kind of magic that isn’t just as easily explained with one single word. Countless people in music history have shone something beautiful, but Baez feels like a completely different force, like the soft, smooth breeze on a spring day as you sit on a bench, watching nameless people fade by, their stories becoming as much a part of us even if that’s just all it is: stories. Figments of the imagination. A man with a monocle who had a simple life with nothing remarkable to tell. Although maybe that’s remarkable in itself.
Maybe that’s exactly why Baez is more of a folk pioneer than anybody else. You can imagine folk as something that bleeds into the souls of all of us, like a voice we all share, experiences that come and go like an easy catch-up in a pub. We can imagine folk as stories, characters, and narratives, the kind that don’t matter if they’re entirely made up, so long as they make us feel something. Suppose that’s precisely what Baez does, but with something that goes even further than that, becoming everything around while also showing us the way.
She might be quieter than other so-called “pioneers”, but that only makes her presence louder. She’s there like the people-watcher in all of us, dreaming up stories of love, loss, and heartbreak, drawing attention to lost worlds without any noticeable force. That’s the true magic of Joan Baez. It might sound strange, even a little indulgent, maybe, or like there’s no real recipe for what makes her such an undeniable pioneer. But it’s also as true as the feeling itself: the feeling that someone just knows not only how to tell a story, but your story.
Songs that prove Joan Baez is an underrated pioneer:
‘Birmingham Sunday’
Like any tragedy, the 1963 bombing in Birmingham, Alabama, became fodder for countless activists seeking to utilise their musicianship as a tool for change. Of these, two emerged on top: Nina Simone’s ‘Mississippi Goddam’, and Joan Baez’s ‘Birmingham Sunday’. Only, Baez took a slightly different approach on her journey to solidarity, offering peace where there was none.
This is a sound that could quite literally be unpacked for days, hours, months, but really, all you need to pay attention to is the opening line: “Come round by my side and I’ll sing you a song.” It’s a verbal invitation to come along, sit around with Baez, and silently pray for a better day, a better world, one where evil ceases to exist, and it’s all just about togetherness.
‘Farewell, Angelina’
Usually a song used to refer to Baez’s subtle shift away from folk, it actually, for many reasons, felt like a jolt in the opposite direction: Baez wasn’t leaning away from her roots, she was becoming more attuned to it, using what others would call “innovation” to establish a new kind of folk that knew no limits. In other words, she was reinventing, not departing from what she knew.
And as a result, ‘Farewell, Angelina’ ended up being far more sentimental in tone than Bob Dylan’s version, even as a much shorter glimpse at the story. Whether it’s because she naturally carries a softer tone or because her voice carries a different kind of emotional appeal, it’s a song that feels as much a part of our world as hers, sitting in that pretty sweet spot where it feels she’s speaking directly to us.
‘There But For Fortune’
Another song originally by another artist but reclaimed by Baez, ‘There But For Fortune’ feels like a different story entirely when it’s carried by her voice, spotlighting all the beauty of Phil Ochs’ words with some kind of additional magic that’s hard to describe. Unlike the original, it feels like it’s reaching up and up, before settling somewhere inexplicably peaceful.
Suppose that’s another part of Baez’s pioneering quality that places her above most: it’s not always about doing anything overly complex to prove her skill or ability. Most of the time, it’s just about being charming with simplicity and holding emotion in her voice, the kind that bolsters the words effortlessly, leading you without any underlying pretence.
‘Silver Dagger’
A more traditional folk type, ‘Silver Dagger’ feels entirely familiar, even on first listen. And after that, it becomes a trusty member of the family, popping by to say hello every now and then, just ’cause. Of course, it feels that way, but there’s also a more serious undertone, the wistful kind that comes from an experienced heart that knows the perils of trusting too fast or too easily.
These notes come out with more fervour in Baez’s version, lingering on the sentimentality of life’s bittersweetness, the only way she knows how. These are also the moments she shows off the dynamics within her own voice: she doesn’t linger with any singular force, instead she goes toys with moments of softer crooning, like acknowledging all the thorns within her beautifully complex story.
‘Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Right’
You know those songs that cut deep, no matter where you are, or how you’re feeling? Those that always simply hit right where the heart is, even though it’s not connected to any specific time, place, or memory? For some reason, ‘Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Right’ feels exactly like that: an old friend who messages you every now and then just to see if you’re alright, like they know exactly why you might not be.
Despite the beauty of Dylan’s version, Baez’s takes its time, getting to know you a little more before taking you on a little road trip away from your troubles, no matter how temporary. She almost whispers the song, letting the words pour out without much effort, though in a way that washes over with ease. Again, like that soft breeze that she knows exactly how to deliver.
