THANKS FOR all THE FISH

2021...

SO LONG AND THANKS FOR ALL THE FISH

BY LANCE REESE

One of the greatest casualties of Covid was how it brutalized the music world. What could have been a Renaissance quickly fell apart. Live shows were prohibited, and bands called it quits, either unable, unwilling, or afraid to practice, some finding they lacked the incentive to continue, missing money, or accolades, or adrenaline from performing.

Having a small(very) music venue we found ourselves facing decisions on what our responsibility was to our local musicians. Adamantly against live streams, the low quality cell phone footage and shit audio no one wanted to watch. In spite, we needed to find a way for music to continue — if we could connect a musician with just one fan, that’d be worth doing. Quality is the utmost importance — we bought cameras, production software, a camera crew (robotic sliders at first, then the real deal). 50+ performances later and now live music has returned. By summer 2021 live performances were back — I’ve probably attended more live shows in the last six months than in the last six years. While there were plenty of touring acts coming through, local bands (Central Washington) stole the show. Following are some of my favorite experiences, related chronologically as it turns out.

Technically 2020 we broke lockdown with the “12 live streams of Christmas.” While we aired them nightly, logistics dictated we film them in advance so we carved out a weekend and did them back to back. After 11 recordings Bad Habit showed up to finish the lineup. We’d been at it for 2 days, learning on the fly, between us green and out of shape bands it was hit and miss at first, but when these guys took the stage something magic happened. All their years of chemistry took over, seeping off stage into the production crew. “What kind of music does the Bad Habit play??? Some call it Reggae, some call it Punk. But you know we be rockin’ that northwest Skunk.” And rock it they did. The three part harmonies, Jason J captured on film singing lead, scatting through the interludes. Dan’s playing guitar into exhaustion. Remmie “the swamp monster Jesus” punching his bass amp to get the crackle out. Eric showcasing his prowess, shredding the guitar, powering the sax and crooning and about his Ganja Girl. Try and get “Going Back To County” out of your head, I dare you. There are so many truths they reveal in the music, listen to the stories — this performance is honesty on full display. Over the next year they played at least a dozen more shows (probably more — way to put the work in guys) but this recording, this show, is still something special.

So the shutdown hit March 2020 and we cancelled some 14 shows from the books. Gone. A year later Devil’s Gulch And the Missionaries finally made it down for their first Yakima appearance April 2021. The night before the show we put up new velour blackout stage curtains. Raw material, hundreds of yards of fabric had to be cut, sewed and hung. Took all damn night, didn’t get done till seven in the morning. No sleep, then a full days work. The band shows up for load-in and I’m sure were ultra-hospitable; they must wonder what they’ve got themselves into. But right before show time the whiskey breaks out (Pendleton of course,) and when the lights go down, the smoke turns on, away we go. A Devil’s journey for the rest of the year from the Tieton River to Halloween in Cashmere, we end with a pre Thanksgiving album recording, 24 songs, 100 takes in 12 hours – no blood was spilt, no one was injured. Look for their first release “Demons in the Jury Box” late spring.

I don’t know if in-person restrictions had been lifted when they booked, but a week past their new album release audiences were suddenly allowed when Himiko Cloud came to town. It was the first recording we’d done with a full audience, the crowd limited to half normal capacity, but the reduced headcount filled quick, chomping at the bit for a live show. Coming into town the band blew a tire, and when I say blew a tire, the rear passenger tire exploded after rubbing on the mud flap on the journey from Wenatchee. The band shows up in a tow truck (thanks AAA), we’re way behind schedule but all hands on deck get the gear loaded in and sound check complete. Cameras set, and the show starts on time. To preserve sound for the recording, doors are closed. The audience locked in to ride out the intense trip of lights and sound. Maybe the most connected a band and audience can be, they merge into one, the band isolated through haze and lights, everyone else melded and swimming into the music. When the music ends the after show is a VIP experience. The attention the band gives the fans is second to none, and in return drunk concert goers rally all their knowledge and resources to change a flat tire, a fitting culmination to the evening. Oh, did I mention Himiko Cloud’s album Telomeres was just ranked the 6th best Northwest Album of 2021 by the Seattle Times?

Yakima’s Pastel Motel holds a special place for Bearded Monkey. Not only did they headline our first Beardfest celebration but they could be accused of being responsible for the venue we have today. Prior to the pandemic I almost threw (literally) a sound guy out of the booth for doing a shitty job mixing their last show before lockdown. Seriously, if by the third song you can’t keep the mic from constantly feeding back and I have to kick you off the board don’t climb back into the crow’s nest and get in the middle of my shit, I’m already doing your job. It’s gonna get messy.

I digress. Anyway, live music’s back summer 2021, Pastel’s booked their first gig back at Wally’s in Wenatchee. It’s two hours from Yakima, I’m already committed, my wife’s running a show at Suncadia, so Wenatchee’s out of the question on a Saturday night until her show wraps before dark, so audio’s to the band and sound guy, in the truck on the 97, book a room from the road. Fire crews have everything; no vacancy, but we find one left, so it’s on and we’re over the pass, tires digging in the corners on the down – no traffic tonight.

Quick wardrobe change at the hotel for the misses — I just wash the Roslyn field dirt off my feet, then we’re at the tavern just after 11. Doorman says there’s a cover, I give him 10 and ask who’s played. “opener’s done, can’t remember their name, but Paisley Somebody is about to go on.” “Cool,” and I push through a packed house. No stage, bands on the floor so I step right in, they’re shocked, I’m not suppose to be here. I’m not a hugger but they bring it in anyway, and I bring them whiskey (Pendleton of course.) They do their thing and the crowds packed tight, loving it, the energy, the music. Appropriately(?) coincidentally(?) Connor from Himiko. is here, so are Bre and Pete from Devil’s Gulch., so it’s a reunion. Later after the show the bass player’s doing concrete angels on the sidewalk — a beautiful post show drunk expression, and a signal for me to call it a night.

So here’s a thank you to all the musicians who continue through, and all the fans who support. I raise my glass to you – Pendleton of course. C