Entertaining band story of the day: Before we left our gig in St. Augustine last night, I slammed two beers to make the most of our large comped tab. On the long drive home, I decided to hang my leg and dick out the window to piss. Urine then proceeded to get all over the side of the truck, much of it also ending up on the front of my shirt. When we get home, Banjo Boy gets the hose to rinse off his truck and pulls it a little too hard, ripping the pipe and spigot from the wall. A large geyser of water begins to erupt, us having no idea how to turn it off. I ended up calling my landlord at 3am, to find out where the shut off valve is, and it’s right under the pipe that was currently shooting a jet of water ten feet into the air. So I had to go step on the pipe, getting soaked in the process and turn the shut off valve. Now I have no running water in my house and an angry landlord. I still laughed. When you gotta go, you gotta go. – Brett
I’ve been asked what it’s like to be a professional musician. It’s utterly satisfying, I get to do exactly what I want and answer to no one. I have all the free time I could want to practice, to have sex, to read, to loaf.
But it’s not as glamorous as some would think. It’s a feast or famine affair. Some months are great, I have all my bills covered with money left for sushi dinners and bar tabs. Other months, like the most recent one, I eat ramen noodles every night to the point of being so sick of them, I shoot and eat rodents out of my back yard just to have a change of pace. You know things are rough when the thought of boiling a square of noodles, makes a squirrel look like a steak dinner. But this is the life I’ve chosen, I would never trade it for a cubicle job and six figure salary.
I’m really happy the new album is out, and if you’d like to save the squirrels, you can buy a copy on iTunes now. We plan on having an online merch store pretty soon so keep your eyes peeled. Don’t these vittles look tasty? – Brett Bass
Published in Florida Times Union on August 24th
Written by Heather Lovejoy
Original Article >>
Grandpa’s Cough Medicine performance celebrates release of band’s second album
Whiskey, honey and lemon. As a tot, that’s what Brett Bass’ grandpa gave him to soothe a cough. It worked, Bass said. Combine that tidbit of family history to slick pickin’ and a nonconformist attitude, and you get the 4-year-old band Grandpa’s Cough Medicine.
Based in Atlantic Beach, the bluegrass trio is 25-year-old Bass, a flatpicking guitar madman and baritone singer; 21-year-old Mike Coker, an Earl Scruggs-loving banjoist; and 40-year-old Jon Murphy, an amiable stand-up bassist and singer. They celebrate the release of their second album, “The Murder Chord,” at Mojo Kitchen on Saturday night.
Their tunes have a traditional bluegrass core, charging forward with fast, tight instrumentation and an undeniable twang. But they’re not traditionalists. They’ve been shunned by local bluegrass purists, they said, but that’s fine by them.
“People say to us, ‘I never liked bluegrass until I heard you guys,’ ” Bass said.
That’s one of the finest compliments a fan can bestow upon the band, they agreed. Murphy said they seem to appeal to rock ’n’ roll fans.
As the youngster in the band, Coker has been discussed among local old-school bluegrass musicians, they said. They say he’s been “corrupted,” which he seems to find amusing. The corners of his lips shyly curled up when his diversion onto a “road to ruin” is mentioned. “This is what I want to do,” he said.
They call their style “outlaw bluegrass,” which doesn’t allow for gospel or mushy, sugar-coated love songs. With a sometimes dark humor, their lyrics often speak of humanity’s imperfections, which can be partially attributed to Bass’ origins as a metalhead. That’s not to say they don’t respect tradition. They do, and often perform old songs (murder ballads are favorites), but being set apart from the masses is important to them.
“I don’t see the point in being just like somebody else,” Bass said.