The first time I saw Pokey LaFarge, I hadn’t heard him play music yet. There he was, wandering around the Newport Folk Festival last year looking like he worked either for Hank Williams or Al Capone.
LaFarge’s black hair was slicked. His suit might have had mothballs in the pockets. He later turned up with his lady on his arm, and she, too, was a vision of Dust Bowl beauty - all red lips and swaying vintage dress. Together they could have been plucked from the set of “O Brother, Where Art Thou?’’