#sonsoffathers

[prettykiku]

Sons of Fathers #sxrx #sxsw2014 #sxsw #sxswi #sonsoffathers (at Rattle Inn)

[taebugg3]

#flipagram made with @flipagram ♫ Music: Kid Rock - Cucci Galore My name is Bobby Shazam. #bobby-Shazam #Shazam #sonsoffathers #roadtrippin (at Green Room Athens)

[taebugg3]

You should be listening

[blueanddeepblue]

Day two: Aspen, Colorado - Belly Up

Morning comes early. Monty has to acquire tire chains for what we imagine to be a treacherous road. If we would have neglected to purchase chains, there would have been a rogue snowstorm, brutal and swift in its justice, sending us teetering along the highway like a toddler trying to walk on a waterbed. As it turns out, the road between Denver and Aspen proves uneventful: cold but beautiful.

We arrive in Aspen early for a radio show. Usually these events are relegated to David and Paul. Radio studios are generally too small for our massive ensemble, and the masses really just want to hear the-two-headed monster that is Dave-and-Paul-with-microphones-in-front-of-them concoct grandiose mythologies that serve to enhance SOF’s status in the world of rock and roll.* Today, Paul tells me to grab the accordion. My grandfather was highly proficient at this instrument; however, I am still in the early stages of competence.

The accordion is also incredibly loud, designed to project without microphones or pickups over the raucous bellowing of drunken German singing groups and ruddy faced polka bands.** I stand in the corner of the room and try to play at an appropriate level. This is radio dammit. The people of Aspen have probably never heard an accordion on their airwaves before; it’s all Steely Dan and soaring guitar solos. It’s my job to bring the pleasant tones of the accordion to the people, but at the appropriate volume for maximum listening pleasure and no louder. Maybe excitement gets the best of me. Maybe it’s just radio.

The Belly Up is one of our favorite venues, and it shows. The set is two hours of incessant energy, raw and exhaustive. Altitude drains me more than I expected, but then again, playing with intensity for two hours without a pause is going to sap you no matter where you are. We pack up under zero degree conditions and bundle into the van, cold but satisfied.

We stay with a generous host. As any generous host would do, ours throws a party,*** which is well received. Music soars through the house wide sound system; there are plenty of guitar solos and an ample amount of the blues in e major. I hear Steely Dan. But no accordion.

*e.g.: Radio dj: so how did you two start playing music together? Paul: well, we met in the forests of the Amazon beneath a waterfall. Me with my pan flute and Dave with his digereedo Dave: We realized we could make amazing sounds and that’s how it started. Radio dj: how do you write your songs? Paul: we actually just buy them from indochina. Dave: there’s a really good song sweatshop over there. Super cheap.

**this is not a definitive history of the instrument’s origin, but instead a brief sketch of what I imagine to be the most tolerable genres for accordion playing.

***there will be a later post on considerate hosts versus generous ones, or maybe the pros and cons of hosts versus hotels.

[david-beck-blog]

WEST COAST TOUR JAN 2013

12.31.12 Day One - I count this day because the mind has already shoved off. The 24 hours before tour are made up of running around town and stuffing your world into a bag. You wring out the last bits of life from the domestic rag and savor every drop. You might as well sleep in the van. We were all very excited about the tour, as well as the most amazing send off show a heathen musician could hope for, New Years Eve at the White Horse. We had got word earlier in the day that a writer for Rolling Stone would be reviewing the show. This added to the excitement and gave the band faith 2013 would be an eventful year. Fast forward to a sold out club, freezing outside and hotter than an oven indoors. This was the place to be. The band before us played their final song. We awaited on the flanks then began pushing our way through the mass of people. We used our gear to drive wedges in the crowd and finally made it to the stage. One foot high, old monitors, a true honky-tonk, our past and present state. We began as soon as we could, the crowd moved up, the tide rolled in. Knowing we had royalty in the front line we gave it all we had. We sang loud, though the crowd covered the sound. We relayed our message through sweat and movement, driving the point home, making it clear we meant business. We followed a new set we had worked up, it was flawless, despite the chaos. The show went by in a blur, before we knew it we were standing sweaty in the cold, an hour left in the old year, seven hours from departure. In this precious time, some of us decided to leave for other destinations. We shook hands, joyously, We said our goodbyes, it had been a good year. I brought in the new year with a beautiful woman whom I'd grown to admire greatly in the past month. With one minute left we made our way into the heart of the crowd, The count -down roared through the old East Austin walls, we were engulfed in the sound. Ten seconds left, a lot had gone down this last year, It was not in the cards to wind up like this... Five seconds, the year was almost behind us, three, two, one, 2013 had begun, it was already the greatest year of my life.