"Well folks, that's about it for the show tonight"
About this Quote
A throwaway sign-off can carry an entire aesthetic, and John Fahey’s “Well folks, that’s about it for the show tonight” is exactly that kind of small line with big shadow. On the surface it’s pure stagecraft: the folksy, late-night wrap-up a performer uses to seal the room back up and send people home. But with Fahey, the plainness is the point. He made a career out of smuggling complexity through unassuming doors - fingerpicked guitar that sounded like front-porch tradition while quietly bending it into something stranger, lonelier, and more modern.
“Well folks” casts him as an emcee of an imagined America: genial, communal, almost hokey. It’s a deliberately ordinary address that softens the audience, inviting them into familiarity even when the music has been anything but comfortable. “That’s about it” adds a shrug of understatement, a refusal to mythologize the performance. Fahey didn’t sell transcendence with capital letters; he often acted like he was just passing time, even as he was excavating memory, grief, and satire from old musical forms.
The subtext is control. Endings are where audiences reach for meaning, and Fahey yanks the curtain down before anyone can pin him to a tidy narrative. Coming from a musician associated with “American Primitive” guitar and a thorny, sometimes self-mocking public persona, the line reads as both hospitality and deflection: thanks for listening, now don’t overread me - even though the whole act practically dares you to.
“Well folks” casts him as an emcee of an imagined America: genial, communal, almost hokey. It’s a deliberately ordinary address that softens the audience, inviting them into familiarity even when the music has been anything but comfortable. “That’s about it” adds a shrug of understatement, a refusal to mythologize the performance. Fahey didn’t sell transcendence with capital letters; he often acted like he was just passing time, even as he was excavating memory, grief, and satire from old musical forms.
The subtext is control. Endings are where audiences reach for meaning, and Fahey yanks the curtain down before anyone can pin him to a tidy narrative. Coming from a musician associated with “American Primitive” guitar and a thorny, sometimes self-mocking public persona, the line reads as both hospitality and deflection: thanks for listening, now don’t overread me - even though the whole act practically dares you to.
Quote Details
| Topic | One-Liners |
|---|---|
| Source | Help us find the source |
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