The faint smell of old people swirled around in the air mixed with the aroma of strong black coffee as I looked for a seat. Men with long hair and thick beards, women wearing long flowing skirts, and an over abundance of people wearing plaid; all these people here to see Utah Phillips, a folk singer named the “Golden Voice of the Great Southwest.”

Somehow though, this didn’t feel like the last folk concert I attended. The audience consisted of an older crowd, and I somehow felt as if I was on the outside of some folk music clique. In short I thought I might feel more comfortable bringing my grandparents to this concert.

Shortly after eight o’clock the lights dimmed and the opening duo, Transfer Station, was introduced.

After the Transfer Station performance, Phillips was introduced and came on stage with his own small table, set with coffee and such, and a special chair. Phillips was anything but a flashy performer, dressed in brown slacks and vest, and acting as a one man show, playing the guitar and harmonica while singing his songs.

Due to health conditions, Phil-lips has not been traveling as much as he had in his long years as an entertainer. To make up for it he has been broadcasting a small free radio show called “Loafer’s Glory: Hobo Jungle of the Mind,” which can be heard over WRPI via the web on Fridays from 10-11 am. Happy to be on the road again, Phillips said that it “always was, is, and will continue to be a pleasure to be anywhere.”

Utah describes his home in Nevada City, California as being one of the many to be running on President Bush’s “Faith Based Energy Program,” which entails “praying that the lights don’t go out.” Keeping up with the humor, Phillips continued to keep at least this audience member interested by further mocking of President Bush and his vocabulary, or lack thereof.

Phillips began playing and led the audience in another sing-a-long. What is it with folk singers and audience participation? The chorus of the tune wasn’t hard to learn and the spectators picked it up quickly. Phillips remarked on how his style is not about to make any sudden or drastic changes.

“Its nice to know that in 20th century industrial America there are still things that don’t change very fast. I’m one of them.”

The show continued, and reminded me of something I might hear on NPR’s broadcast of “A Prairie Home Companion,” singing laced with jokes and anecdotes from politics, to children’s liberation, to blowing up the family television.

In a way Phillips has a very Thoreau-ish feel about him, concerning his pursuit of happiness and how he one day decided to stop watching the television, reading the newspaper, and listening to the radio, due to everything going on in the world making him angry and upset. “If we’re not at war I go out and try to do something constructive.”

Finishing up the show, Phillips played a tune about the working class, while he discussed the fine art of street gaffers, who he believes should embrace the drama of their work and put their hearts into it.