Drivin On

In the twilight hours we gather, in a circle, at the edge of the firelight, amidst grainy visions of ball caps and braids, boots and buttons, bottles and butane, sparks and shadowy theatre. Our work is done for the day, and the setting of the sun has eclipsed much of the sport of the evening hours. Our business here is always social and joyous. The tools are conversation, refreshments, and music. The gang varies in age, attire, and ancestry, but we partake in a common appreciation of the moment. Someone calls for music from across the fire-lit void, and a trio, within the ranks, obliges with an assortment of wooden, stringed instruments and igneous smiles. The methods are age-old. The sound... somewhat modernized, but always original. Upbeat and timeless notions of livin', lovin', and risky pursuits are conveyed in song as wide-eyed tales of the thrill of the chase, the art of seduction, crimes of passion, and redemptive gospel. The stories are driven by three-part vocal harmonies, and instrumentation that'll make your heart leap in time with the tapping of your toe. For a moment, you forget about the world outside, and the challenges of yesterday or tomorrow. And there are those that would recognize that wondrous gleam in your eye, bolstered by the warmth of white embers and good company... and say 'You've just been Rubber Knife'd' Welcome to The Rubber Knife Gang... The three knifers led offset parallel existences over the course of the last few decades, finally fusing on similar musical interests. Hank, a self-taught guitar-toting country boy, with an affinity for history and literature, singing and writing songs as a release from the everyday worries. Johnboy, a fiery personality on the five-string banjo, who later scored a bass on eBay, like a mail-order bride (with less paperwork). Having played with both Hank and Willy on separate occasions... Johnboy had hopes of bringing them together. Willy, the wildcard, fit, like the last piece in a musical puzzle. The addition of his soulful vocals and rhythmic mandolin resulted in a passionate but balanced, earthy, celebration of roots, with each of the three pulling a common freight in slightly different directions, but ending serendipitously at the right destination.