Music, Dreams, And Second Chances With Robert Lester Folsom
- Josh Kitchen
- Apr 7
- 7 min read
By: Josh Kitchen / April 7, 2025
Robert Lester Folsom is not a household name. He didn't have any number one records or songs, and you won't find him in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Despite all of this, Folsom has been making music for over fifty years, and this week, he will play the iconic Troubadour in West Hollywood - and he's never stepped foot in the state of California. In 1976, Folsom released his record, Music and Dreams, a breezy and folky record that when you hear it, you might think you've heard it a few times in your life. The album reminds of Crosby, Stills, & Nash, the Eagles, Cat Stevens, and the great Laurel Canyon sound of the time that continues to inspire songwriters and so many young artists hoping to make their California dreams come true. The album has enough hooks and melodic turns to make you want to throw it on again right when you finish it. "April Suzanne" sounds like it could have been on Neil Young's After The Gold Rush, "Music and Dreams," on Hotel California.

The record was not a big success, and Folsom would abandon a music career and go on to raise his family, living life outside of the music business. Then in 2009, Keith Abrahamsson, of Brooklyn’s Mexican Summer records contacted Folsom about releasing the record after reading about it in an underground music newsletter. The record was printed on vinyl and immediately found a new audience - music lovers in their 20s and 30s who grew up on the kind of music Folsom was obsessed with when he made the record in the first place. Since then, Folsom has returned to writing and releasing new music, and has been on small tours for the last few years, finally making his way out west in 2025. I spoke with Folsom ahead of the California and west coast dates about what it means for him to get to this point in his career and life, the legacy of Music and Dreams, and what he would tell his younger self in 1976.
One of the things I find so powerful about your music is how closely it's tied to your experiences in nature and your spiritual life. There’s this piece I read in Oxford American where you talk about riding your bike and talking to God. I think that comes through in your songs—that sense of peace and searching and gratitude.
I don’t know if you noticed, but a lot of my songs are inspired by nature—by things like weather, sunshine, rain. All those things amaze me. I love rainy days. I love sunny days. Today, it’s like 80 degrees here in Northeast Florida. That’s more like Miami weather, and we’re 350 miles from there. But I’m sitting outside right now, the birds are singing, and it’s just… beautiful.
Riding my bike is really a special thing for me. I don’t ride fast—I’m not trying to go 90 miles an hour. I’ve got a nice street bike, but I ride slow. Just enjoy it. I do talk to God when I’m out there. I talk to myself. I think about others. I pray. I reflect. Sometimes I don’t say anything at all—I just take it in. And I think you're right—when you put yourself in that space regularly, that stillness, that wonder, it naturally comes out in the music.

You've got a tour coming up. You play April 10, here in Los Angeles, at The Troubadour.
We’re going to start at the Casbah in San Diego. And then Pioneertown—Pappy & Harriet’s. I think this is a warm-up to The Troubadour, because initially, when someone said we should go to L.A., I asked where they suggested, and they said, “Hey, how about The Troubadour?” I think it was kind of a joke, but I said, “Go for it.” That’s an iconic venue I’ve heard of most of my life. And sure enough, we reached out, and apparently they were very receptive and said, “Yes, we want you here.” So I’m very excited about that show. I’ve never been to California, so I’m looking forward to it.
I think if you told that to people, they wouldn’t believe you listening to your music.
No, it’s funny. Last year when we played in Chicago, I had never been that far north in the Midwest. We sold out the place, and all these people were there— it was like a communion. It was like a reunion of all these people that knew all my music, and I felt like somehow, because of that, I knew them. It was just the biggest blessing ever.

You put out Music and Dreams 50 years ago next year. And while most artists who put out albums of that creative magnitude of the time went on to long careers touring and following up with records, your path took a different route, raising your family and living life outside the music business. Do you ever think about this phase of your life and career as something of a second chance?
Well, I could throw it back at you—like, the listeners are getting a second chance. But a lot of the listeners now weren’t even around back then. They’re in their mid-20s. I would say the average age of my audience is 25, and I absolutely love it. Now I have a band touring with me, and their average age is about 25. They're digging into my old music and loving it and enhancing it, and that inspires me completely. That’s one of the reasons I’m very excited about this tour. These kids are awesome. I love them to death. I really do.

I get that. I was raised on The Beatles, The Beach Boys and Crosby, Stills & Nash. I’m glad you said that about discovering your music for us younger people, because I mean—wouldn’t you do anything to hear a new Beatles song or a new Graham Nash/Hollies song? That’s what hearing your music feels like to me, after someone who loves this kind of music thinks they've heard it all.
Yeah. Nothing was more exciting in my lifetime than to hear a new Beatles release. When The White Album came out, I was probably peeing all over myself. It was so incredible. Every other song was different.People are always asking me, “What kind of music do you play? What genre?” It’s hard to put my finger on it. Just two weeks ago, I was talking to a professional lead guitarist from Nashville, and I take every word he says to heart. He’s been there. He’s done everything. He said, “Robert, your music is timeless. That’s the genre you’re in—ageless, timeless.” And I was like, “Wow.” It gave me a chill. This was coming from someone who knows and has played with just about everyone. I didn’t ask him to say anything. It blew my mind. And he’s kind of right. I was inspired by people back in the ’60s and ’70s, and maybe I’m just bringing it back somewhat, I don’t know.
That’s special—to be told you’re timeless when you’re only 70, right?
Yeah. It always bums me out when people say to Mick Jagger or Keith Richards, “Why are you still doing this? You don’t need to be doing this.” That’s all they know to do. That’s their thing. They can do it ’til they’re dead. I’m not gonna stop. I don’t even know that I need to keep breathing or eating, but it keeps me alive. A number doesn’t tell you when to stop doing something you love.
You’re living your life. I'd say you’re in your prime.
I really love it. I’m enjoying it. And like I said, I’m with these kids, and I don’t see an age difference—until I look at a picture. But when I’m with them, we’re right on the same level. Our assignment, our livelihood—it’s equal. There’s mutual respect. I respect them for their youth, and they respect me for my wisdom and age.
]You have such a unique music career. Looking back to 1976—or even earlier, 1972—to now, how has your songwriting changed through this very unique musical experience? Because I was listening to your most recent work like “Sometimes You Just Let It Go” and “I’m Going to the Ocean,” and these songs are just as good. But it feels like you’re writing them with a new sense of—maybe not assurance, but experience.

I sometimes think that my lyrics back in the ’60s and ’70s were very childish—kind of like a kid. And hey, I was a kid. So I might be a little too careful in my writing now, and I’m trying to let that go a little bit. My friend Don Fleming—you might know him—told me, at one point, I was recording and trying to pronounce words correctly. He said, “Lester… that doesn’t sound like you. Just be yourself.” Some of the words I use aren’t even real words. And I think people get it. In fact, I know they do.
As long as you can get that feeling across, I don’t think it matters what the hell you’re saying.
Exactly. I like writers like Jeff Tweedy—some of his stuff makes no sense at all, and I absolutely love it. Lennon was that way, somewhat. Even McCartney. That man can write a three-minute song. His thing is melody. He has so many great melodies. And I think I have some of that too.
Speaking of The Beatles, George Harrison's All Things Must Pass—I know you’ve talked about loving that record and its inspiration on you. Talk about All Things Must Pass and George Harrison.

Well, that album was like The White Album to me. It really inspired me. It came out just a few years after The Beatles broke up—which really wasn’t that long. But it came out right before Christmas, and I had to have that album. It was amazing. “My Sweet Lord” didn’t even sound like George Harrison at first. And then it made all the sense in the world. And “Beware of Darkness” is just so incredible. That album is integral listening for people who love music today. It’s so current. The themes are timeless. It makes me feel so good and so peaceful and inspired.
When I read articles about you, they show pictures of your younger self—like a lot of those great musicians from the time. What would you tell 1976 Robert Lester Folsom?
Oh, my goodness... I would say, suffer for your art. Do it. Just do it. Quit listening to other people tell you what you should do. Do what you feel you should do. I got married—it was the thing to do. I went to college—it was the thing to do. But don’t think you’ve got to do the things you “have” to do. Right? Some people say it’s dumb to follow your heart—I don’t know. I think more people need to at least get into their passion and suffer for it. Do what you’ve got to do to feel good about what you’re doing. It’s not all about a paycheck.
Follow Robert Lester Folsom here, purchase tickets for his show at the Troubadour here, and listen to his classic, Music and Dreams, below:
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