Friday night we consumed a lot of beers and whiskey with these dudes, The Dead Ships.  Spud told stories, and they’d never heard a Spud story before.  So they were all lit up with the excitement that you get when you meet the type of someone that Spud is. That’s the type of someone that there ain’t no other someone much alike this certain someone at all. That is to say that you can’t say that a person reminds you of Spud, because can’t nobody remind you of Spud, he’s completely %100 unique, completely %100 Spud.

Saturday The Dead Ships played third in a lineup that had already featured two stellar performances from the likes of Nicki Bluhm and the Diamond Light as well as a rainbow, like a good-ass “ooh-and-aah” type rainbow over the desert sky.   As the day turned to dusk and as the musicians and other heads began to loosely slide into their night forms, The Dead Ships stepped inot the van.  What those three dudes did next was played a set that was and forever will be %100 unique.  Ain’t nothing never going to sound like that night, not never no more.  Mark it down.  That night was bad-ass, and after three songs the band dropped their instruments and more than joined in on the absurdity that unfolded throughout the property.  Screams in the van, screams outside the van, they howled at the moon that night, and damn if Spud ain’t gonna add it to his collection of stories.