Smokin’ on a stump in the lot. Waitin’ for the bus to pull up. Are you on or off the bus? Old heads sittin’ in lawn chairs. Orange van. American flag. Sunflower woven with the wiper blade. Someone’s listenin’ to a version of “Isis” I’ve never heard before. Drove up here on my own. Early. So the car doesn’t overheat in traffic. Swung through a park out here beforehand. Talkin’ with the nature. Saw some storks. Thinkin’ about the plaque for a name I don’t remember. Somebody who saw “the beauty in it all…” Maybe that’s the move. Pack in it. Buy a pickup. Take it out to the boonies. Isolation might beat the alienation of livin’ in the city. “We just pulled up bruv” Cam texts. Put out the spliff. Grab my bag from the car. Before meetin’ up for the tailgate.
“Look at all the homies…” Overhear KQ say to Jess. Jake’s head restin’ on my leg as we look at the clouds over Pine Knob. Seein’ the beauty in it all. The Toehead behind me whispers in my ear. “Just the right amount of shrooms for this opener to be a vibe…” Swayin’ in agreement and in rhythm with the gospel revival. Johnny doin’ his best JC Crawford nearby. KQ tryin’ to take a picture of the mob. Thirty or more deep on the lawn by the time everyone is through the gate. Will afraid they’ll confiscate the rubber snake in his pocket when we get pulled aside for a second metal detector. Tellin’ him I hope they don’t take My Son from my pocket. I knew people were comin’ to the show. But shit. A party bus? Even some of the cats from outta state show up durin’ the tailgate.
“I don’t play in bands.. But I’ll hang out with these dorks for Neil fuckin’ Young!” Dylan laughs in the lot with one of the guys that was in the Resource Network. Now in Skull Cult. Is that why I feel so detached? The alienation of not tryin’ to stay relevant. Camera around my neck. Like a useless piece of oversized jewelry. How many pictures am I really gonna take? Besides shootin’ one of Dylan takin’ a picture of me. We’ll have to wait and see if it turns out.
Buyin’ three overpriced soft pretzels at concessions. Makin’ sandwiches for each other. Fillin’ a stranger’s water bottle in the lot from your jug. Hittin’ their joint while they tell ya they saw Neil and Stephen Stills together. Like to go back home and take it easy? My man. You are home. Everyone around you harmonizin’ on the ‘la-la la’s. Listen to those bends. Stuck in the runnin’ around. “What is animal becomes human and what is human becomes animal…” Jake Toehead says leanin’ on the bus. “We’re only good to eat, shit, and work. Kill the human thoughts.” The Marxist undertones of “Human Song.” Jake’s got this way of makin’ a conversation heady real quick. Gives ya the straight dope. No chaser. Makin’ ya feel seen through every spoken word. Gives ya the exact words ya needed to hear. Next thing ya know we’re talkin’ about human connection and vulnerability as a radical act. We don’t need to define everything. Or find meaning to feel human. We got this brief time together to feel fuckin’ alive. So fuckin’ feel it. Be a little more human and feel. “We just gotta be here now man.” Now this Toehead is spittin’ Ram Dass in the Neil Young lot.
Kyle’s eyes go wide. Jaw droppin’ closer to the ground. The look of awe as his mind is blown before my very eyes. Shreds along the air to the intro of “Vampire Blues.” “Nips!” Jake yells from behind me. Harmonizin’ with Neil and Crazy Horse. “Good times are comin’ but they sure comin’ slow!” Laughin’ along as Neil slops around the strings. Roughs up my hair. “Yeah they are baby!”
“You bring love and friendship to the people around you. And that’s important.” Thanks Tim. The boomer in the RV next to the bus Cam gave some shrooms to smokin’ a stogie tells me this. I need that reminder. Although the number of friends that make it a point to hug you should be enough to kill the detachment. How unfortunate it must be? To kill off that need for connection and vulnerability. Sittin’ under the light post. Back to the wind. Rollin’ spliffs. Tellin’ KQ I’ll get him a Satsuki tape once they’re done. Blew my fuckin’ tape deck dubbin’ that thing. These connections we make with people half way across the globe we’ve never met.
Jake wraps our heady conversation before headin’ into the show with a reminder no man is an island. That’s what keeps us human. Connection. Bein’ radical enough to fully connect. That’s why havin’ someone’s couch to crash on outta state can mean so much. We’re nothin’ but an homage of the people we know. The people that inspire us to just be here now. So fuckin’ be here now, man!
Neil and Crazy Horse trample through the set. “He fuckin’ delivers…” Jake says to Kyle nearby. Brushin’ back the mullet in disbelief at fuckin’ “Powderfinger” in the middle of the set. The band decorates space and time with these musical epics. Each track feels like the fuckin’ Odysessy. Each solo a journey for salvation. Mythic battles for peace of mind. “Shelter me from the powder and the finger…” Jake tellin’ me this is whip-its in the afterhours type music. Another mythic battle for salvation. The cognitive dissonance of tryin’ to feel good all the fuckin’ time.
His therapist will tell him they’re not there to always make him feel better. Neil Young and Crazy Horse aren’t there to always make you feel better either. On that anti-hedonism trip. Life ain’t about feelin’ good all the time. It’s about feelin’ more. Life’s a losin’ battle after all. But that’s what we got each other for. So we’re not sittin’ alone on that hill cryin’ to Neil Young. There’s no better experience in life than cryin’ with the homies.
The stage clears. People lay in the grass. Zombified by disbelief. Did this just fuckin’ happen? Did I really just experience this? Stage lights stay off. Others left standin’ in anticipation. Not ready for this to end. People start screamin’. Hand claps burst. Kyle gets to his feet. Immediately crouchin’ to Jake. “Acoustic guitar…” Neil comin’ back out. Blowin’ into the harmonica. Playin’ a few numbers. Solo and unplugged. Crazy Horse comin’ back out after the acoustic numbers to close the set. “Rock n’ roll will never die…”
How could it fuckin’ die? I mean. We’re all gonna eat dirt in the end. But don’t cry. No tears. There will always be someone tailgating in the lot. Someone will be sellin’ bootleg tees. People will never put down the air guitar. You’ll hear new versions of your favorite songs in the distance. Eat a lil bit of fungus on a whim. Vibe to some gospel music. Break the rules when they don’t serve you. Duck past security to get to the rail. Get close enough to stop and smell the horse damnit! Take a moment. Be here now. Cause there ain’t no rock n’ roll without feelin’. Without connectin’ with each other. Without vulnerability. Feel more. Even if it isn’t always good. Roll another number for the road. The engine might overheat. But ain’t nothin’ else to do but keep goin’.
Cam wraps their arms around me before the bus takes off and I walk away. Back to my car. Alone. “Thank you for bein’ part of this experience.” They still got my copy of the Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test. Thinkin’ about that part where Sandy says somethin’ about we’re always on the bus. Part of somethin’ much bigger and beautiful than we can fathom. “Standin’ on the sound of some open-hearted people goin’ down.”