Author’s note: Forgive me if this narrative gets a little windy and disjointed. That’s the way it went down. – d. Ewing

The Elevator Rides at Folk Alliance International‘s annual conference are famous, so much so that we took virtual “elevator rides” during Zoom-based FAI events. 2026 will be remembered by all of us as the Year of the Stairwell.

Let me disclaim here: the staff of the hotel were fantastic and kept working to improve traffic in all areas, even showing us where to find the service elevators (here is an actual video of the Sheraton service elevators from 10 years ago.)

Sheraton New Orleans on Canal Street has 49 floors and unique elevators: you press the buttons for your floor from the outside, and the elevator tells you which car to wait for. Inside, there are no buttons to push. A digital display on the doorframe’s inner edge tells you where the elevator will stop next, unless someone’s pushed buttons on a floor along its route. Once you’ve waited for 15 minutes for car E to open its doors, conversation with the other 12 people inside goes something like this:

“Wow, these elevators.”
“Wait, this isn’t my floor. Can I get back in?”
“Do you mind if I balance this box on your suitcase for a minute?”
“8th floor: Women’s Lingerie and Fishing Equipment.” Okay, that was me.

I did find Robert Dale Klein getting onto an elevator – we’ve been Facebook Buds for ages. I believe I first met him in 2010, when the Nashville Songwriters Association was in DC talking to Congress. That’s a story for another day.

But it was in the stairwell that I ran into many of the people I’d planned to find on this trip, including Joe Seamons, co-founder of The Rhapsody Project in Seattle, WA. We stopped briefly on a landing to chat before the next wave of people came through. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to see him perform, but I did – by organizing to be the Volunteer Hall Monitor on the 10th floor, outside the FAR-West Regions room.

FAR-West also hosted Hannah Mayree, co-founder of The Black Banjo Reclamation Project, who asked us the following question:

“…how to respect the banjo in 2026 – how do we do that? (What) does that look like? The first part is just accepting and uplifting Black people in that.” – Hannah Mayree

They went on to explain the founding of The Black Banjo Reclamation Project. We urge  you to learn more, subscribe to their newsletter, join their Patreon, and support this project how you can.

Across the hall from the FAR-West Regions room was another room hosting first-timers, including 8- and 9-piece brass bands, like local legends Sally Baby with about 20 of their fans, followed by this group from Spain. Watching them come out of the stairwell and down the hall was like watching a clown car unload.

click pictures for full effect of deconstructed tuba

Nearing 3am, I walked down the hall to see what was going on: The Old Time Jam was going on. Both Joe and Hannah were there, along with several fiddle players, some stand-up bass changing hands, and a trumpet. I completely abandoned my position as hall monitor to make this video (which you can see on Facebook.)

New Orleans is more than food and music: it’s art and wrought iron. I used to live here. A pedicabber said I sounded local. Not right now, I told him, but I had two babies here. Back then, I rode the bus, sometimes hitch-hiked, up Airline Highway to Charity Hospital almost every day. I came to FAI partly to reconnect with the city. I hoped New Me would meet Old Me on the street somewhere.

So I’d chosen a hotel off-campus: Olivier House on Toulouse St was just a 15-minute walk down Rue Dauphine or Bourbon, or Royal, or Chartres.

Olivier House also has an interesting elevator: it’s about 18 inches deep and 3 feet wide. There are buttons on the inside to call your floor, but no matter which one I pushed when I got in on the 4th floor, the car would stop at 3. I got used to not getting out each time the doors open.

A small pool in one of the courtyards, three or more cats, and always coffee, usually donut holes and biscotti. The piano and guitar in the double parlor are available to for guests and staff to use. One night I came back to find a little song-circle and a dog there in the second parlor, and the door to the elevator courtyard blocked by a leather-upholstered King Louis armchair. The revelers let me know the chair was just holding back a very strong, cold wind from outside that kept slamming the door open. I sang along for a minute, then went upstairs.

All the while, the entire East Coast of the United States was preparing for a winter storm. Friday I received a text that my Sunday flight was cancelled and rebooked for Monday. That one was also cancelled and rebooked. Jillian Matundan, who’d flown in from Virginia on the same inbound flight as me, had rebooked and was leaving Saturday.

Jillian had gone off-campus to perform at a local singer-songwriter night at Skeeta Hawk Brewing Company, where I also met Eryn Michel (funny because we know the same people) and Lisa Mae O’Neill, New Orleans born, bred, and based singer-songwriter. Lisa drove us back to the hotel in time for my next Hall Monitor shift.

There were times – plural – when a random bass would appear next to me in the hallway. At one point I caught a guy picking one up and asked him:

“Hey, what’s with the bass?”

He responded: “I ask myself that on a regular basis.”

But my favorite was this snare drum.

Gabriel Wolfchild caught his pants leg on it, and the drum started rolling down the hall after him. I picked up the drum and put it in the corner where the basses usually go, noting that if nobody claimed it I’d have to take it to the hotel front desk as dictated by Lost and Found Protocol.

As people filed through the stairwell door, that snare caught someone’s attention. His head whipped around, then muttered to himself: “Not a trash can.”

Bet the drummer deals with that on a regular basis.

Private showcases run from 10:30pm to 3am, more or less. By the wee hours of Saturday morning, we were really hoping for less. I was positioned next to the stairwell opposite the Texas Sugarbaby showcase, hosted by a spicy ma’am who kept me and everyone else hushed – NOT an easy thing to do! She offered me wine, gave me water, and enhanced the ubiquitous signs that said: VOICES CARRY. BE COURTEOUS! We finally decided to put a sign on me, which was actually very effective.

I was completely charmed by Ms. Sugarbaby’s sauciness. At one point, I asked her: “You really are from Texas, aren’t you?”

“I’m from Baton Rouge, Louisiana,” she confided, “but I married a Texan, so I got both!”

Among the noisemakers I found Rees Shad – I knew about him through  “Inside the Song” with Tina Ross. Tina does an amazingly in-depth study of a songwriter’s work, then brings them in to discuss. I asked Rees to take a picture of me for Tina.

“I’ll do that. Then would you please do me a favor, and take a picture of us together for Tina. Only do it like you’re shushing me and I’ll have my mouth open…” Like this.

click pictures for full view

My duty for the evening was to ensure nobody held the stairwell door open, nobody practiced their harmonies on our level of the stairwell, and to move people who could not hush further on down the hall. I and my fellow hall monitors had arranged to cover for each other so we could catch our favorite acts, so I went down to 9th floor to see and record Cast Iron Shoes hosted by ComboPlate Booking.

I’d found Nicole Ridgwell on the down escalator (God bless escalators) from the 2nd floor, literally reading my text where u at? as I was about to go up. I joined her outside at the Smoking Corner, where we talked about co-writing. She told me about a new song she’d co-written with another fiddle-playing songwriter, based on a conversation she’d had in Nashville.

I kind of want to produce an album of Nashville disappointment songs.

Grace Daily, who was attending the conference with her band, sat in on accordion in this video of “Stick the Fiddle,” in which Nicole has shifted the guitar around to her backside so she could pick up the fiddle.

Much of my hall-monitoring was taken up by giving people directions to room 1009, which was hidden around the corner past the elevators. As things settled, I decided to go see what that was about. Here’s what it was about:

First thing you noticed was the rhythm. Then there were glittery silver inflatable stars scattered around the entrance of the room. Inside the room’s door, a hallway had been covered floor-to-ceiling with an iridescent fabric (as a former hotel worker, I wondered how that was gonna clean up.) People were dancing in the hallway. As one song ended and another began, I was able to get up into the main room and see three women bringing all the energy of their ancestors into the modern-day manifestation of Folk.

Turns out this was Angelique Francis and this is why you go to Folk conferences: to discover something beautiful you didn’t know. I remembered them coming out of the service elevator: I could tell by the way they carried their s*** that they carried their s***. I was not wrong.

This is what it’s about. Never let go of the past, and never stop pushing. You are someone’s ancestor, and it’s your duty to carry. You will be expected to hand everything over to the future.

Everything from super-traditional to Charlie Needs Braces was represented at FAI. So much I didn’t see. All of it is music of The People. All of it is Folk.

Saturday was my day to hold office hours at the Folkworks table in the exhibit hall. Here’s where Joe Seamons caught up with me to discuss the importance of Folk as a vehicle to preserve culture (or, I’m thinking, change it as needed.) I also met up with James Curley, with whom I’ve communicated online for years. He’d picked up a lovely octave mandolin on the other side of the hall and gave me a tiny concert. Other bright notes on exhibit were Woody Guthrie’s at-home recording device, Queer Country, and Sean Ardoin who taught me how to pronounce his name (say wah like a baby…say it again…say it again…now say Ard-wah!) and sold me some really great local coffee. Please note that the delightful Kreole Pecan flavor is not added, but created by roasting technique! Such great conversation I forgot to get his picture.

click pictures for full view

I really enjoyed spreading FolkWorks’ message: supporting and preserving all things Folk (including music, dance, and traditional arts.) I told artists, venues, and other organizations about our excellent self-service Events Calendar: it’s easy to use and easy to read. Why spend the effort building your own calendar when you can use ours?

From my position in the far-left corner I could occasionally hear people trying out stringed instruments or drums. I took a little stroll around the exhibit hall and found this young gentleman in a fantastic hat and cool glasses doing his thing on a drum kit. Just as he was standing up and thanking the exhibit hosts, his DAD walked in. So he had to play some more, and I had to stay some more. This was the Folkest thing: generations, right?

I also actively recruited writers (looking for you, El Javi.) I get that I’m asking artists who write songs about their beliefs and also are largely responsible for self-promotion to do One More Thing for free, but I know myself that one medium isn’t always enough to put my message out there. If you have a message that doesn’t fit in a song, let me know.

I found a few future articles…like the one I plan to write about the following scene:

I’d arrived at the part of the conference where I was ready for a celebratory drink. Dissatisfied with both the selection and the pricing at the hotel, I went across the street and purchased a little bottle of something called “Sazerac Rye” for $13. Then I went back to the hotel in search of a little cup and a place to sit down. I found both in the middle of the 2nd floor (accessible by escalator; elevator not required) and then Gráinne Hunt found me.

I’d met Gráinne at last year’s FAR-West conference where she was an Official Showcase act. You couldn’t miss her and Jules Stewart in their matching jumpsuits.  I showed them my little bottle and they introduced me to the Irish term “notions” – as in you have notions about how fancy you are but you probably aren’t. That was exactly the mood I was after, but to tell the truth, Sazerac Rye was better than I’d expected. Sina Theil joined us for excellent conversation around the trials of touring: dietary considerations, as well as the hows and whys of making connections while you’re out and about. Gráinne and Jules had noticed a difference between people who sought to make industry connections vs. showing up authentically to perform. We’ll be talking more about that later.

I briefly mentioned the service elevators. Here’s a thing that happened:

I got in with a couple who were discussing a slinky-like thing. She showed us how it rolled down one arm and up the other if you clasped your hands and tilted just right. He demonstrated how he wanted to hold it on his next album cover. She and I thought the service elevator made a great photo shoot for an album cover, and it did. We were so excited comparing photos that we forgot to get off the elevator on the 1st floor and had to ride back up again. Because we were so focused on getting OFF the elevator next time it hit 1st floor, I forgot to get contact information. If you know this guy, send him the picture, please. It did come out pretty great!

I’d been carrying around these banjo girl posters since shutting down the FolkWorks booth, intending to give one to Joe Seamons, one to Jen Rund, and one to Hannah. This was impractical; nobody was prepared to travel with a poster (though Jen suggested wrapping it around her bass neck inside the case.) Finally the rain had subsided enough for me to walk back to my hotel and take a nap before enjoying showcases as a person in the stairwell, not a hall monitor.

That never happened. I went to sleep and stayed there. By the time I woke up, I realized I had to organize staying another night at the hotel. I went down in my pajamas to discuss logistics with the night auditor. I told him I was in town for the Folk Alliance conference.

“What’s Folk Alliance?”

“It’s an organization to support Folk music in -”

“FOLK MUSIC?!” He jumped up from his seat, walked into the other room and came back with a beautiful Cordoba classical guitar. His playing, singing, and songwriting were all exceptional. I sat for a few songs before finally going to bed. When I checked out, I left him one of my banjo posters. His name is Francis.

I spent my last day with the city, walking to Louis Armstrong Park and having quiet dinner with a new friend instead of attending a house concert Nani Vazana had booked while she was in town for the conference. The winter storm had hit my medium-sized town of Annandale, but a nice driver with a RAV4 was able to get me within half a block of my frozen-snowdrifted driveway. The 4-inch drift in front of my door didn’t stop me from snuggling into my warm little cottage.

Elevators notwithstanding, everything you’ve heard about FAI’s national conference is true. The diversity in our community came out hard and strong. Random jams in public areas throughout the hotel; an organized lobby sing-along became a call-and-response: WHO DA FOLK? WE DA FOLK! then becoming a second line that went up the escalators into a showcase on the 2nd floor. Sorry – I didn’t get any video of that. I was too busy being captivated. Might have shed a tear.

New Me didn’t run into Old Me, but I recognized her footsteps, felt her hands along walls that are older than anything else in the U.S. They aren’t my ghosts, but they’re as friendly as the folks who still live and work here. Americans have something to learn from New Orleans if they can just slow down and take it in.

FAI has once again proven that Folk ties together communities and generations.  Please – if you’ve made it this far in my winding narrative – please, please consider volunteering for the Folk community in your area. You are needed and valued, even if they don’t know you yet. It’s a great way to find new musical opportunities, and a necessary way to ensure Folk continues to thrive through all times. If you can’t find the Folk community where you live, well, that just proves my point. FolkWorks was created as a newspaper because the Los Angeles Folk scene seemed so underground.

If you’re already active in the Folk community and you haven’t yet joined Folk Alliance, please do! There are options for individuals, groups, and organizations; there are convenient payment plans. FAI works to sustain Folk and shares income from your membership fees with your local region, bringing your efforts back home again.

These times we’re in are stretching us thin. We need Folk, and Folk needs you.

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debora Ewing writes, paints, and screams at the stars because the world is still screwed up. She improves what she can with music collaboration, peer-review at Consilience Poetry Journal, or designing books for Igneus Press. Follow @DebsValidation on X and Instagram. Read her self-distractions at FolkWorks.org and JerryJazzMusician.com.