Sarah McLachlan performs at the Edmonton Folk Music Festival last night at Gallagher Park. (Jason Franson, Sun Media)

EDMONTON - As if the folk fest isn't long enough, they've gone and tacked another day on the thing -- a mini Lilith Fair reunion right there on Gallagher Hill.

They say last night's show with Sarah McLachlan, Tracy Chapman and Meaghan Smith wasn't officially part of the Edmonton Folk Music Festival. It just looked, sounded and smelled exactly like the folk fest. It was a cool way to celebrate 30 years, in any case. By year 40, this thing might be a week long, feature 1,000 shows and bring the entire southside to a standstill.

Sarah McLachlan was the perfect way to illustrate the mellow side of the folk fest. Her melancholy songs and haunting mezzo-soprano (meaning she can sing high, but not high enough to crack glass) sent the crowd into laid-back spasms of candlelit rapture of a sort seen only at this event. Put it this way: there wasn't a lot of opportunity to warm up by dancing. When this lady says she's going to "slow it down," she really means it. The mellow vibe was enhanced by a stripped down band that lacked a drummer. McLachlan, of course, divorced her husband/drummer Ashwin Sood last year and apparently hasn't found a replacement yet.

No matter. The semi-retired mother of two doesn't have a lot of new material, but she has so many huge songs in her arsenal she's almost at the classic rock phrase where "here's one from my new album" is an invitation to go for a beer, or perhaps in this case it's a paper cup filled with white wine. The shivering crowd drank it all in. After joshing with the audience about the lousy weather (recalling the even lousier weather in Edmonton in 1999 on the last date of Lilith Fair), she launched into Building a Mystery. Other melancholy winners heard last night included Adia, I Will Remember You and Possession, perhaps one of the most beautiful songs about unhealthy obsession ever written. While she admitted she hasn't actually played live since Canada Day, there wasn't a hint of rustiness about her last night. She even managed to pull off a flawless version of Joni Mitchell's River (chosen by the crowd from two possible Joni covers), plus Paul McCartney's Blackbird. The simple arrangements, often with just piano, showcased her voice in the best -- and mellowest -- way possible.

Speaking of perfectly mellow for a perfectly mellow opening to the folk fest, Tracy Chapman was able to captivate thousands on the hill all by herself.

If anyone was disappointed she didn't have a band behind her, I didn't hear any complaining. It was more like preaching to the converted as her gentle yet politically charged music wafted over the hill, finding many sympathetic ears.

Songs new and old addressed politics, race relations, domestic disturbances and the folly of driving around in a "fast car" when one has no other worthy prospects in life.

Heard in the encore was her best-known song, Give Me One Reason, a great wake-up call for a last chance to save a doomed love affair. She did a spine-tingling a cappella version of Behind the Wall, about feeling helpless as a witness to spousal abuse.

Accompanying herself on guitar, some kind of electric banjo thingy and at least one appearance from the dreaded round-the-neck harmonica holder, Chapman also pulled out hopeful material from her latest album, Our Bright Future, which was released in November 2008. You have to wonder what she would've called it had the U.S. election come out differently.

Our first performer Meaghan Smith was just a kid when Sarah launched her all-girl festival, but she would've been a ringer for Lilith Fair -- at least on the "Village" stage.

Gifted with a sultry voice, a wry sense of humour and a penchant for twisting up jump jazz with ragtime and acoustic country music, Smith and her "Cricket's Orchestra" flew through amusing trifles of tune-age dealing mainly with former boyfriends.

One broke out of jail, another spurned her love, yet another broke her heart -- and all of it came off like expressions of pure joy.

Perhaps she's in some blissful state of denial: "Here's a song I wrote for somebody ... I'm pretty sure he loves me," she said, introducing her first heartbreak tune, I Know.

Samples of old-time sounds -- carnival calliope, string sections that could be soundtracks to silent movies, flowing harp glissandos -- added a surreal touch to Smith's inventive, rootsy style.

The closest comparison might be Amy Correia, a mandolin-strumming singer who specializes in putting an angelic touch to deep and depressing topics.

This seemed to be a running theme for the evening.