Chris Cresswell

There was a spell in grad school when Wilco was the soundtrack of my every Sunday morning. I’d put on 2016’s Schmilco, an album whose haphazard title belies the beautifully crafted folk songs hidden inside, drink a cup of coffee, and slowly start the day.

We may be a week or so away from the summer solstice, but with temperatures hovering in the low 80s, the smell of frying oil in the air, and the sound of sultry guitars echoing throughout Chevy Court at the NYS Fairgrounds, it sure felt like summer on Saturday night at the 2026 New York State Blues Festival.