Attending the Calgary Folk Music Festival for the first time, I walked in with no expectations. And honestly, that felt like the best way to do it. No schedule, no checklist, no plan — just a willingness to soak it all in. Sometimes the magic of a festival comes from letting it unfold in real time, and all I really wanted was to have a good time. I did.
This year’s edition ran from Thursday, July 24 to Sunday, July 27, 2025, and brought together more than 70 artists across six stages in the heart of Prince’s Island Park. It was a four-day, family-friendly celebration of music, culture, food, and community, complete with an arts market and a variety of food vendors. The crowds were steady but never overwhelming. As long as you planned a little, you could still catch a great view of just about any set.
While it may not boast the size or flash of some of Canada’s other major festivals, Calgary Folk Fest stands apart in one essential way: it has a clear and compelling sense of identity. You can feel it in the curation, in the crowd, and in the care that goes into every detail. Credit is due to the more than 1,800 volunteers who made the entire experience seamless. From production to logistics to park cleanup, it all ran like a well-oiled machine. Even when the skies opened up and the rain came down hard, the crowd held its ground. I watched hundreds of people stand in a storm just to hear their favorite artists play — and the artists delivered.
From Olive Klug and Elisapie to Arrested Development and The Dust Collectors, this year’s lineup was beautifully balanced. It leaned into indie territory but made space for legacy acts, rising stars, and genre-bending performances. Each set felt like a conversation. Some were intimate and reflective. Others were loud, sweaty, and cathartic. All of them left a mark.
Since I was covering the festival solo for songplode, I stayed mostly at the ATB Main Stage, where many of the weekend’s most memorable moments took place. What follows is a personal recap of what I saw, heard, and photographed — all shot on my trusty Nikon, because of course I had to bring the good camera.
Day 1
I arrived at Prince’s Island Park around 3 p.m. to pick up my press pass. The show didn’t start until 5:30 p.m., so I had plenty of time to wander the park and take in the calm before the storm. The fields were empty, the sun was shining, and vendors were ready with beer and hot dogs. There’s always something special about seeing festival grounds before the crowds arrive — a sense of endless possibility knowing four full days of live music lie ahead.
Olive Klug was the first artist to take the stage, and I became an instant fan. The Portland-raised Gen Z songwriter has a quiet charisma and lyrical honesty that makes you stop and listen. Standing alone with an acoustic guitar and a voice both fragile and defiant, Olive sang about coming of age, identity, and moments of reflection that felt perfectly suited to an opening set under the warm Calgary sun. The crowd connected instantly — nodding along, smiling softly, or standing still, fully absorbed. It was a gentle start that promised emotional depth to come.
I caught glimpses of VÍÍK performing on the National Stage (Stage 4), but soon returned to the main stage for the iconic Elisapie. If you’re not familiar with her music yet, it’s time to change that.
After a quick lunch break (aka paying for an overpriced burger), I caught rising singer-songwriter Laura Hickli, followed by an electrifying performance from hip hop trailblazers. When I say the crowd went wild, I mean it. It was exactly what I expected — fun, lively, and completely infectious. People danced, screamed lyrics back, waved their hands in the air, and for a moment, the entire park felt like it was moving in sync. The beats were tight, the rhymes sharp, and the vibe was immaculate.
The night closed with Sierra Ferrell, who transformed the stage into something out of a Wicked set, channeling serious Glinda energy — but instead of a wand, she wielded a guitar. It was beautiful to witness the contrast between each artist’s performance throughout the night. By the end of Day 1, I was beyond tired, but it was absolutely worth it to watch her entire set from less than ten feet away.
Day 2
At this point, the weather was starting to feel… questionable. The skies were heavy, grey, and brooding — the kind that makes you instinctively reach for a hoodie even if the rain hasn’t started just yet. Still, I made it to Prince’s Island Park a few minutes before Emily Wurramara took the stage, and I’m so glad I did. Emily is a brilliant and fiercely talented artist whose voice carries the weight of both personal and collective histories. She sang about her experiences as an Indigenous woman with a kind of raw vulnerability that demands your attention. And in between songs, she offered important reflections on what it means to hold space as an Indigenous artist — why these voices matter, why their stories deserve to be heard. It was one of those “pause and sit with it” sets.
Not long after, Katie Tupper stepped up — a complete vibe shift, in the best possible way. The Saskatoon-born artist brought early-2000s neo-soul energy that felt both nostalgic and fresh. Think Erykah Badu meets Nelly Furtado with a prairie twist. Her set had this breezy, late-afternoon warmth to it — sultry, soulful, and a little bit sparkly. The kind of music that makes you sway without even realizing you’re doing it. Next up was Ruby Waters; and at this point, it had started raining. I thought it’d be a light sprinkle, one of those brief drizzles that politely pass through. But, was I wrong. Ruby Waters brought the waters (quite literally, ha). Something about her raspy voice, rugged charisma, and grunge-meets-alt-pop energy made the downpour feel like part of the show. People pulled up their hoods, danced in the mud, and fully leaned in. It felt chaotic and cathartic in equal measure.
I had every intention of staying for Patrick Watson’s set. Truly, I did. But I wore jorts — denim jorts. And let me tell you, there is no dignity in soggy jean shorts. Somewhere between trying to dry off under a tree and convincing myself I could tough it out, I gave up and headed home.
Day 3
There’s something magical about a Saturday at the Folk Fest; the air feels lighter, the energy a little louder, and people somehow even more excited to be here. The Langan Band kicked things off with a firecracker of a set. This Glasgow-based trio was a revelation: folk roots, but with this raw, untamed, genre-bending energy. Think Celtic punk meets gypsy jazz with a hint of forest wizardry. Fiddles flying, tempos shifting, feet stomping — they had the crowd clapping along within minutes. It felt like a secret party in the woods, just louder.
Next up was Les Mamans du Congo x Rrobin. This was one of the most electric performances I’ve ever witnessed. A powerful blend of Congolese rhythms, traditional lullabies, and futuristic electronic beats, led by the unstoppable force that is Gladys Samba. She and her all-women ensemble took up space, demanded attention, and turned the ATB Stage into a fierce, feminist, Afro-futurist dance floor. It wasn’t just a concert — it was a cultural celebration, a reclamation, a revolution. The crowd? Mesmerized.
Los Lobos followed — legends in their own right. There’s something iconic about watching a band that’s been doing this for decades and still playing like it’s their first tour. From “La Bamba” to their blues-rock fusion jams, their set was pure joy. The band’s chemistry was palpable, and their sound was tight, textured, and timeless. The crowd danced, swayed, and cheered like they were watching old friends. And maybe, in a way, we were.
To close out the night, Steve Earle and Reckless Kelly brought the house down. Earle’s voice is one of those rare instruments; weathered, wise, and full of grit. His storytelling is masterful, his stage presence commanding. Backed by the country-rock polish of Reckless Kelly, this final set hit like a dusty road trip through heartbreak, protest, and resilience. A perfect closing act.
Day 4
By the time Sunday rolled around, it was clear Mother Nature had plans of her own. The sky opened up, and what started as a drizzle quickly escalated into a full-blown downpour. It rained in that relentless, sideways, soak-you-to-your-socks kind of way. But if there’s one thing I learned over this weekend, it’s that nothing stops a true Folk Fest crowd. Ponchos came out. Tarps were shared. Umbrellas turned into communal shelters. The spirit? Still very much intact.
Despite the soggy skies, the energy on-site remained defiant and joyful — a little muddier, sure, but undeterred.
One of the day’s standout moments came courtesy of Calgary’s Mayor, Jyoti Gondek, who braved the weather and took the stage to show love and appreciation for the festival’s organizers, volunteers, and audience. Her presence was a reminder of how deeply rooted this event is in the fabric of the city — not just a music festival, but a cultural institution that brings Calgary together, rain or shine.
And then, to close out the entire four-day whirlwind: CAKE.
Now, here’s the thing — I didn’t know what to expect from CAKE live, but what we got was something between a surreal jam session and a perfectly calibrated alt-rock sermon. Deadpan vocals, quirky trumpet interludes, sarcastic crowd banter — it was exactly the kind of off-kilter weirdness that felt right at home in the rain. They played the hits, of course (“Short Skirt/Long Jacket,” “The Distance”), but they also played with the audience, building this strange, intimate connection through absurdity and rhythm.
By the end of the night, no one was dry. But everyone was smiling. There was something poetic about closing the festival soaked to the bone. Like a baptism into a new kind of music community. One where joy and resilience coexist, and the rain just becomes part of the story.
Calgary Folk Music Festival 2025, you were unforgettable. See you next year — hopefully with a little more sunshine, but the same big heart.
