Once a head, always a head. That’s our thought on the issue…
You may go off and get yourself a suit-job and a family and leave your glow sticks and hula hoops behind, but you’ll still have it tucked away in there somewhere. It may never come out again, or it may come out when you least expect it, but it’s there, hiding just behind that reminder to pay the bills and feed the dog, it’s there.
These Leftover Salmon cats, they don’t need anyone to search out their headiness. They’re OG heads through and through. They’ve been in this hit-the-road-and-strum-a-banjo game for a long time. A tight unit, one string picker intertwining with another, fingers going at blazing speeds yet never crossing over into another’s lane, seamlessly weaving their quilt of sound. They’re the life of the party wherever they go, because it’s all just second nature to them, these tenured heads.
Dig on how they react to the van, referring to our vessel as if they’d been there before, as if it was just another gig, “in the van,” a throwaway sentence, sure, but said with the ease and bluster of a man who gets our vibe. They got’em, because they stepped through the front door with the same damn vibes. Heady ones, you know, cause they’re old heads. Which is what we’ll all be someday, if we’re lucky.