Member Spotlight | September 17, 2025

Amy Hoffman: A Lifetime in Folk  

Amy’s D-18 carried her from childhood folk records to lifelong memories

Amy Hoffman’s living room in Bedford, Massachusetts, was always alive with sound. With her father working in the loudspeaker business at Acoustic Research, the house was filled with records and opportunities to discover new music. One of Amy’s favorites from that era was a very early Joan Baez recording, made while Joan was at Harvard with two other students—a copy she still treasures today, signed by Baez herself. That early immersion laid the groundwork for a lifelong journey rooted in folk music. 

She grew up taking her musical cues not just from vinyl, but also from live shows. “There used to be a series of concerts in Boston… we went to all those every year. So, Pete Seeger, Odetta, stuff like that. I’ve seen all of those as a kid, and it just was… in my blood.” The energy of those performances—and the intimacy of folk storytelling—became part of who she was. 

At age eight, Amy began formal guitar lessons. Her first teacher, Jon Landau (later more famously known for managing Bruce Springsteen), laid her foundation and taught her the basics. When it came time for a new instructor, her mother asked Landau for advice. He reassured her that “Spider” John Koerner was trustworthy, so Amy began lessons at Harvard Square’s Club 47—later Club Passim. After Koerner, her next teacher was Debbie Green, who was widely regarded as an influence on Joan Baez. “She was the one who really taught me the basics of fingerpicking.” Looking back, Amy sees how remarkable it was to be taught by three figures who were themselves known in the folk community—an incredible foundation for any young guitarist. 

A pivotal moment followed in 1968 when she acquired her long-term companion—a 1966 Martin D‑18. Purchased at Briggs & Briggs in Cambridge after she traded in a damaged Gibson, the guitar quickly became her constant companion at boarding school. It was her prized possession and source of solace, something steady she could count on in an unfamiliar place. 

That sense of comfort at school grew even stronger when her Martin connected her to the wider folk world. One of Amy’s most unforgettable memories is tied to that D‑18: the day Mike Seeger visited. “He came through… and he said he’d play a little bit. So, he played my Martin.” The moment carried extra weight knowing that Seeger had once been a student there himself. 

At boarding school, the guitar cemented friendships during a turbulent and transformative time. It was 1969—the spirit of the Summer of Love was still in the air—and music was everywhere. Amy remembers, “We would sit, a bunch of us, in the dining area of the dormitory… we used to play together all the time.” Those informal sessions were less about perfection and more about connection, reflecting the spirit of the era. 

Love, too, was soundtracked by folk. At her wedding to Jeanne, Amy played and sang Kate Wolf’s “Green Eyes.” “It’s one of my favorite songs… it’s such a touching song about togetherness.” That personal moment felt as natural as a wedding vow. 

 Amy’s partnership with Jeanne deepened that soundtrack. Summer concerts became a fixture for them, including evenings on the lawn at Vermont’s Shelburne Farms, where Ben & Jerry’s sponsored a folk series. They even spent weekends in Boston just to hear Janis Ian one more time. “We loved to go to concerts… we got to see Brandi Carlile twice. Jeanne was a big Emmylou Harris fan… and it was the first time she’d gotten to see Emmylou in person. That was wonderful.” Jeanne played guitar too, though she humbly held back. “She played as well, so we played together a little, not a lot, because she felt like she wasn’t good enough.” Beyond music, they shared a strong commitment to their community—both volunteering at the local dog shelter, and Jeanne also giving her time at the hospital. 

Over the years, Amy has grown a small collection of guitars—seven in total, four of them Martins. Besides her 1966 D‑18, there’s a 1990 000‑16, a 1953 00‑17 (her birth-year guitar), and a Backpacker model. But when asked which one she reaches for, the answer is immediate: “Out of all those guitars, [I pick up] the D‑18… because I know what it’s going to feel like, I know what it’s going to sound like.” 

 Amy’s journey was also shaped by grit and daily commitment. She remembers the early days: “I used to be able to take a thumbtack and stick it in the end of my fingers, and I wouldn’t know it. That’s how tough [my calluses] were.” Playing was more than practice—it was identity. “It was a great way to make friends in boarding school.” 

For Amy, music has always been about shared experience. From childhood concerts in Boston to boarding school jams and later filling her calendar with shows she plans to attend with friends and her cousin, it remains her strongest thread of connection. She rattles off the names of younger artists she follows closely—Christie Lenée, Crys Matthews, Abbie Gardner. Speaking of Lenée in particular, Amy adds, “She’s fabulous.” Amy smiles at the prospect of upcoming concerts. “My calendar is filled with performances I’m going to with friends and family,” she says. 

 Now, Amy is looking for new ways to share that gift. “One of the things I’m thinking of doing to get myself going again is to take one of the guitars to the local animal shelter and play for the dogs,” she explains. “They love it.” For Amy, music feels like another way she can give back. 

All these moments—soaked into her D‑18—add up to a lifetime of music as community, expression, and love. “I’ve had it since 1968… 57 years… it becomes a part of you.” 

Amy’s story is more than a journey—it’s an invitation. To new players: let your journey unfold one strum at a time. Stick with lessons, grow calluses, find the guitar that sings to you, share it with friends or loved ones, and let it carry your story forward. 

 As she reflects on her earliest inspiration, Amy points back to Joan Baez. “I always loved Joan Baez,” she says with a smile, before adding with characteristic humility, “but I can’t sing worth a damn.” Still, with her D‑18 in hand, Amy found her own voice—one built on decades of songs, memories, and connections that continue to shape her life, just as folk music shaped her.