Harris, Kim & Reggie 200 squareOne word comes to mind when I think about Kim and Reggie Harris: joyful. These two have a special zest for life, stories, and music that enlightens, encourages, and enlivens in a way that is quite simply contagious—I mean, honestly, just take a look at those smiles.


Born and raised in Philadelphia, PA, Kim and Reggie were exposed to just about every type of music possible. From jazz, rock, gospel, pop, and classical music, they heard it all and incorporated the best of each genre into their own music. Now, thirty years after the two first met at summer camp during their college years, Kim and Reggie have perfected the art of performing together using the mediums of song and story.


Of particular note, and not to be missed at our Festival, is their acclaimed work in the areas of the Underground Railroad and the modern civil rights movement. Like so much of their work, Kim and Reggie employed their creativity with research that has resulted in serious contributions to the body of education and understanding of these topics. More than that, though, their use of song and story will draw you into a vivid world of daring, courage, and quests for justice and equality that is sure to inspire. And while these topics may be sobering, their stories dig deep inside to spread the message of faith and hope about the best in each of us and in the world at large. All this is done with an absolute joy for life that radiates so beautifully in their every word, strum of the guitar, and sway of motion.


Plus, they have a song that was featured on NPR’s Car Talk—and as someone who grew up with the guys from Car Talk hanging out in the background of every Saturday morning, this is nothing short of the coolest thing ever!


So come spend some time with Kim and Reggie at our Festival, and let them sweep you away with their harmonies, rhythms, and pure joy that is sure to motivate you, like it did me, with a desire to clap and sing along (and considering my utter—and I’m not using the word “utter” lightly here—lack of rhythm that is kind of saying something).