Born in 1941, Ms. Baez herself said that she “had the right voice at the right time.” Her highly distinctive, ever so slightly holy-sounding warbling soprano is the soundtrack to a vast army of liberal-upbringing Boomers, and so this documentary, for them, will be a bit like hanging out with an old friend—family member, even.
Having been raised myself by liberal hippie-artist parents and weaned on the Baez and Dylan repertoire, “Joan Baez I Am a Noise” was a reminder, regarding my later political about-face, of why 1960s’ liberalism was so attractive. Few were aware of the communism at the root of just about everything that went on in America at that time. Back then, we were all just aware of Joan’s angelic voice, but I was happy just to stroll down memory lane as I viewed this.
“Joan Baez I Am a Noise” is also a rather shocking, if tonally subdued, tell-all and exposé that has a bit of the atmosphere of a public hanging. The individual swinging on the gallows pole happens to be her father. And one can guess why; in a sense it’s not shocking in this day and age, but it’s a reminder that often great gain goes hand in hand with great loss.
Beginnings
As a college student at Boston University in 1958, Ms. Baez quietly sang some folk songs in Harvard Square’s Club 47, and the rest, as they say, is history. The moniker, “The Barefoot Madonna” descended, dove-like, upon her at the Newport Folk Festival in ’59, and at 18 years of age, she had hit albums, was selling out concerts in New York, driving the coolest car in the world at the time, the Jaguar XKE, and hobnobbing with the movers and shakers.
Speaking of shakers, Joan grew up a Quaker with a deeply instilled social consciousness. Half-Mexican on her father’s side, her dark tan resulted in middle-school racist bullying. Joan was the middle sister of, basically, three beauties. She was the second-best-looking and had 95 percent of the talent, while little sister Mimi, a dancer, was a total stunner but had 5 percent of the talent, and would come to vehemently resent Joan casting a shadow so long it was impossible to get out from under it.
Bobby
When, one evening, Ms. Baez saw a little wispy, shamble of a boyish-man get up on the mic and unleash a torrent of words and talent, it was an only-musicians-can-understand-how-good-this-is high the likes of which she’d never experienced before. Bobby Dylan, whose ship of fame had not yet come in, provided her with the ability to satisfy a lot of cravings; mothering him and giving him a bath being a couple of them. They sang “When the Ship Comes In” together at the “March on Washington,” in 1963, to 250,000 people.Joan, A.D. (After Dylan)
Ms. Baez married activist-journalist David Harris and dedicated herself to the anti-Vietnam war movement. Their marriage broke up shortly after Harris returned from a 20-month prison sentence for draft evasion. As she says, “He was too young, and I was too crazy.” Thereafter, Ms. Baez rode a roller coaster of euphoric career highs and horrible lows, with an ever-diminishing cultural impact.
Ms. Baez narrates throughout, taking us through past and present, including her 2019 “Fare Thee Well” tour. The film will introduce newer generations to this towering icon of music and fearless protester for the Civil Rights movement. It’s a raw, personal look.
