#onelonghustle

Daniel Hutchens December 19, 2012

Thoughts on the Bloodkin 5-disc box-set One Long Hustle release party, and the band’s 25th anniversary celebration, at the GA Theatre, December 15, 2012

Well, we did it. Played the big celebration show at the Theatre, and it did not disappoint. Such a great crowd showed up to cheer us on; so many old friends, some of which we hadn’t seen in years...it was special. It was a moment in time. And it was a good old fashioned rock show. At least from my side of the microphone.

Four nights later I’m finally wound down enough to evaluate the whole thing and make some sense of it. Our choice of the band name Bloodkin 25 years ago seems to make more sense now than it did then, really...playing that show at the Theatre, seeing so many beloved familiar faces in the crowd...it was family. I think that’s what Eric and I were shooting for when we initially chose the band name: the music is our real family, where we finally found a home, where we finally felt welcome. And we never felt it more strongly than we did the night of December 15th.

Finally having the 5 disc box set come to life, holding a copy in my hands, is definitely a “dream come true” kind of experience. I thought about it for so many years, concentrated on it, believed in it. For a number of years there, the dream of the box set in the distance was what kept me going. Was it a mirage? Was it a cruel hoax I was playing on myself? I didn’t honestly know. I only knew I had to keep moving toward that idea.

I keep thinking about all the great musicians and brothers-in-arms who contributed so greatly to this box set, and to this whole crazy 25-year project: Britt West, Alberto Salazarte, Chris Barrineau, David Nickel, Bentley Rhodes, Paul “Crumpy” Edwards, William Tonks, John Neff, Aaron Phillips, Eric Martinez, the Panic boys, and all the rest...all the folks who pitched in over the years playing and recording our music...what a great gift they gave us. How incredibly generous of them, one and all. How much I love them all tonight, sitting here writing this, remembering. They’re my heroes.

And of course those who didn’t actually play the music, but all the same helped it come to life...David Barbe, Mac Chiles, Susan Archie, Traci Thomas, Keith “Bear” Fowler, Peter Jackson, and of course our late brother Zac Weil...man, I still miss him today. Every day. He should have lived to see this anniversary show at the Theatre. Of all the people I’ve ever known, I think he would have loved and appreciated that evening most of all.

But he stuck around with us as long as he was able, I guess. This band was always a strange, unexplainable calling of some sort, for all of us...a devotion, a mission. I can’t explain it. I just know it felt closer to church than anything else I’ve experienced; those late night shows in dirty barrooms, guitars blaring, drums crashing, and me trying to scream my vocals up above the din...so weird and pointless. So fulfilling. So true and so pure, at least on certain nights....of course on other nights we were just wasted...but that was all part of the tapestry.

And of course the music never would have seen the light of day without my partner in crime, Eric Carter. I met him when I was 8 years old, back on Klondyke Road in Ripley, West Virginia. Keith Richards has described how in his youth, rock n roll music switched the world from black and white to sudden brilliant technicolor. Well, for me, meeting Eric Carter when I was 8, that was my technicolor moment. That’s when the world came alive for me. Eric taught me how to appreciate life, really, how to savor the sweetness, even when times were hard. And Eric became the greatest rock n roll guitarist of his generation, though of course it’ll take the rest of the world a while to catch up to this realization. But I guarantee it’s true. And of course I love Eric Carter with all my heart...y’all just don’t tell him I said that, ‘cause it might ruin my image, okay?

“Unspendable riches and secret fame,” I wrote about the whole mess one time. And that’s how I still feel about all the years of music we played. Never made us rich, never got us recognized outside of certain circles...but it all enriched my life in ways that might be harder to recognize from the outside. Most of my dear friends are people I met, one way or another, through the music. Including my wife, and therefore my children. The music gave me everything, taught me life lessons I desperately needed to learn, let me see the world, meet amazing people, find out who I really was, and gave me a shot at becoming who I really wanted to be. Rock n roll has always been my buzz, my prayer, my glimpse of transcendence. The most beautiful noise I ever heard.

I knew exactly what I wanted to do, from the time I was about 13 years old. I wanted to write songs, record them, perform those same songs live on stages. And yeah, all my dreams came true. When I look back now, my youthful fantasies had nothing to do with riches or fame; they had to do with being an artist, uncompromised, creating my body of work as I went along, as I saw fit. And so it’s come to pass. I’ve never NOT been able to make a record when I wanted to...the money always appeared from somewhere, though of course at the end of the project I was still always personally penniless. No matter. “Made the record,” I always thought to myself. “That’s what counts.”

And that’s still what counts. After seeing One Long Hustle through to its release, that’s the main thing I’m feeling, still, tonight, right now: “Man, I just wanta go make another record.”

‘Cause that’s what makes me feel alive. And I feel a sense of responsibility, ‘cause I’ve been enabled, one way or another, to make SO MANY records at this point...man. That’s heavy. That means next time out, we need to make an even better record...we need to make the best record we’ve ever made; in fact we need to make the best record anyone’s ever made, anywhere.