SwedeFest Recap, Part III

(While this completes the SwedeFest Recap, the live album and concert DVD will take considerably more time to produce. Stay tuned.)

Since SwedeFest was on a Sunday and I’d planned for somewhat of an early show, I put 7 p.m. on the flyers. I should’ve put 8 or 9… But I got to chat with a lot of folks I don’t see near often enough, so the first couple hours were a great time anyway. If I hadn’t been growing steadily more nervous about actually playing guitar and singing I wouldn’t have had a single care about the slow pace of the night.

After waiting for a few key folks, I hit the stage to bring everybody inside, front and center for a little opening Thank You. And then I said (roughly) “Since I’m now 30 and therefore quickly approaching my deathbed, I thought I’d take this opportunity to make a public declaration of my final will and testament. And since it’s my party, I’m a-gonna sing it.” I invited Jeff onstage, grabbed the guitar out of its case, untwisted the strap from around the neck, sat down, adjusted the microphone, looked over at Jeff, announced the song and started in on “Throw My Ashes Over Wolf Creek Falls.”

We were playing without monitors and I could barely hear my guitar or my singing, so I tried to just act like I was staring out my bedroom window and play the song exactly like I had over and over and over the previous few weeks. I flubbed some – and a bit more later on – but it was a great experience.

Jeff and I ran through “Darkest Hour” pretty well and then before “The Primary Colors Song,” I told the story of the old Primary Colors Party, and congratulated the few folks in the house who had been at that legendary party eight years earlier. The song itself is simple and a great sing-along, and the SwedeFest audience didn’t disappoint. Hopefully the video captured a bit from the stage perspective of those hearty folks enjoying the song at the tops of their lungs.

And just like that I was done. I was simultaneously elated to have played my first “show” and fully aware that I was the mediocre three-song opener who should just go away quickly and leave the stage to the real bands.

I thanked everybody again, introduced the rest of the night and walked off to grab another beer before Honeysocks began his set.

Honeysocks started out with the fantastic “Dingoes Ate My Band,” one of his most notable compositions and a song that draws on humor as much as the folk tradition. “Who’d have thought that drummer meat would be in such high demand?”

Al also brought out some of his best covers – his deadpanned rendition of “You Can Call Me Al,” the barely recognizable but awesome folk-blues take on Zeppelin’s “Ramble On,” and per my request, Dylan’s “You Ain’t Goin’ Nowhere.”

Up next was a short-handed Chango Malo, and I had no clue what to expect from a band whose singer was stuck out of town longer than expected on a film project. What they lacked in preparation or cohesion (and I say that lovingly, gentlemen), they made up for in audacity and piss-yourself humor (a turn of phrase, and not, thankfully, a literal description).

Jericho, the burly drummer, had already put down a few earlier, and was now on the microphone as the singer, and it seemed like he was MC’ing a roast of me as much as anything. They started with a version of the Beatles’ “Blackbird” unlike any other, and I’ll leave the description at that. Then Kane Flint from the Provocative Whites jumped up to play guitar on Zeppelin’s “Misty Mountain Hop.”

And the band brought their short set to and end with a smokin’ version of Springsteen’s “Darkness on the Edge of Town,” guitars cranked high and saxophonist David Clark moving out front to sing, giving it his all on a performance that had me shouting along the whole way, just trying to keep up. Awesome.

Soon after, The Swim hit the stage for the band’s first show in quite a while, their first with a new guitarist – and barely enough rehearsal time under their belts. Well, if the SwedeFest set is any indication, The Swim have just gotten a whole hell of a lot better and will start making huge waves, probably sometime this fall.

The Swim’s main songwriter and singer, Caleb, a fellow Prescottonian and onetime roommate of mine, brought an intensity and focus to the stage that I just knew was going to mean one hell of a set. I sat down with Caleb and Nate a couple weeks earlier and talked about some cover songs, but I had no clue what they’d play along those lines.

And in a couldn’t-have-asked-for-more set, I got Wilco’s “A Magazine Called Sunset,” Tom Petty’s “Time To Move On” and Springsteen’s “I’m On Fire.” Ho-ly shite.

I had a dream back in high school that I was a ghost attending my own funeral, and that my friend 13, who was running the soundboard in the church, had played “Time To Move On.” So I’ve always had a spooky-close relation to that song. And I don’t really tell people about that dream, so Caleb had no idea when he was picking out the band’s set that he couldn’t have possibly chosen a more fitting song to play. It’s been about 15 years since that dream, technically and officially half my lifetime ago… And so on a 30-years-is-OLD sort of theme for the night, this “funeral” song was such a perfect fit.

The night’s finale was as I’d requested it: an all-star jam of “I Shall Be Released,” an explicit nod to The Last Waltz and the only thing I could think of as a fitting SwedeFest closer. Honeysocks and Chango Malo joined The Swim on a stage that was hardly big enough for everybody. They put it all out there, a passionate and joyous cover version of one of rock’s greatest songs. “I see my light come shining, from the west unto the east. Any day now, any day now, I shall be released.”

I was front and center, swaying and shouting along, drunk and happy and just in awe that the song and the night had come together so well, that so many good friends had gone out of their way to make it a great 30th celebration. I can’t thank them all enough, and I hope they had a fraction of the fun I had, that those great songs reached just half as far into their souls, that the moment and the music are half as memorable. I hope that everyone who got a shirt or a sticker or a poster will take fond memories of that night a great many years into their own futures.

It’s kinda a bummer that the video had run out on the song just before the finale, but I think that may be another sign that this whole SwedeFest thing might have to become an annual event. And if so, “I Shall Be Released” will definitely return. I don’t think it’ll take nearly another 12 months before I start itching for another SwedeFest. And another…

SwedeFest Recap, Part II

(The SwedeFest recap starts with a guest post from my good friend Josh. The recap will continue tomorrow.)

Somewhere along the way, I got the notion that I’d like to maybe get a couple bands to play for my 30th birthday. When I turned 28, Chango Malo – good friends and probably the band I’ve seen play more than any other – just happened to be booked that night at Sport’s on Congress, owned by Eli, my good friend and theirs. And I just happened to have been planning on celebrating all night there anyway.

Somewhere else along the way, I came up with the name SwedeFest, and from then on my 30th birthday celebration had its own brand name to live up to, and I knew I had better plan it out right.

I started talking it up months ago – asking Eli if Sport’s could host the celebration, and asking some bands if they could play. I went to Chango Malo first, then to my good friends in The Swim and then to Alaric “Honeysocks” Weber, a good friend and a hell of a folk musician. From the start I described it more or less as my-birthday-meets-The-Last-Waltz, and I encouraged covers and guest musicians and the like.

And somewhere else entirely along the way, I got the notion to be a surprise musical guest myself.

Once I’d confirmed the date and the bands (as best I could), I recruited my friend Jen to design a poster/logo, offering just the barest of outlines and a general request to make it look like an old poster from the Fillmore. And she absolutely hit it outta the damn park. I printed up the posters and got some shirts and stickers made and then it was on.

Not everything happened exactly as I would have liked, and there were some notable absences, but I have to say the night was top-to-bottom awesome.

I’d never played music in public before, and I’m not any good despite the minimal guitar knowledge that’s led to some fleeting rock n’ roll fantasies, but I figured I’d never have a better chance than at my own damn party. So I settled on three songs, recruited a secret out-of-town lead guitarist to play along and figured that everyone was gonna have to clap no matter what.

The Jeff Factor, a pal all the way back to freshman year of college and as steady a friend as you’ll ever find, was glad to jump in on guitar. But since he was driving down that day from Phoenix with his wife and little girl, we had to cram a sound check into the late afternoon as our only rehearsal. I had to clue in Eli (to get into the bar) and Al (to borrow his guitar because I needed an acoustic with a pickup), but I managed to keep the performance a surprise to everybody else.

Jeff and I plugged in, got the levels right with Eli running the sound, and then jumped into our practice: first up a song I wrote called “Throw My Ashes Over Wolf Creek Falls,” a bit of a downer, but an honest and decent song I figured I could introduce as my final will and testament in a neat little 30-years-old joke; Arlo Guthrie’s “Darkest Hour,” which is pretty much my favorite song of all time; and then “The Primary Colors Song,” written by my close (and temporarily ex-patriot) friend Cory for a party we threw years ago at the 505.

And that had to be it for practice, because all the time that was left was given over to a great dinner at nearby Maynard’s with Jeff, Lisa, Oli, Eric and Roland, and then a quick rush back to Sport’s to greet the early arrivers.

SwedeFest Recap, Part I

(I'm starting the SwedeFest recap with a guest post. I asked my good friend Josh - a musician, writer, comedian and fellow blogger - to do a write-up of the celebration as he saw it. I'll pitch in with my recap tomorrow.)

Milestones. They are exactly what they sound like, markers on the road of life to indicate distance traveled. We all celebrate them, some just ourselves, some we share. Getting your first steps, getting your drivers license, that first yard of beer at the Buffet at midnight, we all know these.

Last Sunday, May 3rd, I was lucky enough to be present for a significant milestone, and the inauguration of a new Tucson tradition. SwedeFest my friends. I was at Yasgur's farm on the 25th anniversary of Woodstock, but believe me it paled in comparison. OK, OK perhaps I exaggerate a little, but it was an awesome evening filled with some of the best local musicians and friendly faces.

All of this was to celebrate the milestone that was the 30th birthday of a friend to all, local music-hound and journalist at large, known simply as Swede. Though his actual birthday was a couple weeks earlier in April (guess the date Swede-Trivia fans), it was all about the man of the hour. Usually a fairly humble cat, this evening he had T-shirts, stickers and posters emblazoned with the very cool SwedeFest logo.

When I arrived Sport's on Congress (home to the fest) it was moderately full of patrons, however as the gay night wore on it filled and filled. Greeted by the host, adorned in straw hat, we sat for some drinks. I enjoyed seeing friends I don't run into that often. Having known Swede for quite a few years now we have many friends in common. It would've been nice to have seen more people make it, but this is just year one.

Later than was expected (you know musicians) the entertainment began. Kicking things off was the doctor himself. Swede on guitar and vocals, accompanied by a friend on guitar, played some originals. His first song, not too sure of the title, referred to his last will and testament, explaining his wishes to be scattered over a creek near his hometown of Prescott (Press-Kitt, to you outsiders). It was heart-felt and well performed.

The highlight of his set was an old Cory Spiller song from back in the rowdy days of the 505. Yes, "The Primary Colors Song" brought down the house, and a lot of good memories back for those of us who were there at the original "colors" party.

Swede was followed by local folk-favorite Al Weber, better known to audiences as Honeysocks. His set was low-key but as entertaining as ever. Starting off with his signature tune "Dingoes Ate My Band," The Socks filled the room with his spot-on yet wholly unique version of Zeppelin's "Ramble On." He did the Swede-requested "You Ain't Goin' Nowhere," by Bob Dylan, and an unexpected number from the Rocky Horror Picture Show soundtrack, which toward the end of the song the lyrics were changed to "Don't dream it...Swede it!" If you are around town and see a flyer for a Honeysocks show, check it out, 'cause he is pure fun.

I had to leave a little earlier than I wanted to, it being my wedding anniversary and I had husbandly duties to attend to (yardwork). The rest of the night only got better I'm sure, with music from two of the best bands in Tucson - period, no argument - The Swim and Chango Malo. Apparently there will be a DVD, ala Scorsese's Last Waltz, I'll have to see if Casa has it.

So I was expecting to see more Swedish tourists wander in, what with the name and all, but instead I saw great friends, great bands and Mr. Swede. I just had a pool-party BBQ when I turned 30. Who knew I could've had a concert? Nah, I couldn't have. That's reserved for true local legends...

DOWNLOAD:
Honeysocks - Dingoes Ate My Band

SwedeFest!

More information on this as the date approaches, but for now I just wanted to put up the poster for SwedeFest. This is gonna be one hell of a night!



DOWNLOAD:
Honeysocks - Dingoes Ate My Band
The Swim - Piles On The Floor
Chango Malo - A Change Is Gonna Come (Sam Cooke cover)