Shakey Graves

On the 2nd anniversary of Shakey Graves Day (there’s a fucking proclamation, man), we have been graced with a little album of perfect perfection from the man himself in honor of the occasion. You have three days to snag it. DO NOT LIE IN WAIT.

Last year and this, lovers of jams of the Shakey type were asked to upload (somewhere in the vastness of the internet) a photo of what they were doing to commemorate that day. I have no fucking clue what I did last year but this year, I am at home.

My child is away. I have beer and I am in my work space, a 50 square foot home office that occupies a small corner in the living room of our tiny, 850 square foot house. My desk is an old sewing machine table (from which the mechanical bits have been removed) and my chair was stolen from an abandoned house and repainted. Above me are concert photos I’ve taken and a bulletin board of my favorite things (my best friend’s wedding, my child, my friends, vintage trucker patches, and concert wristbands). There are hand-lettered song quotes. And up there to the left is a set of photos taken by Jarred (of Show Me Shows) from the night Shakey Graves played on my neighbor’s old porch. This is what I’m doing on Shakey Graves Day this year. I am writing for you. I am writing for me…

shakey graves day, y'all

I was sad earlier. Life is tough sometimes and love is tougher. I did not get and have not gotten what I wanted, things I never realized I wanted and things that I have, at times, actively turned down. I am full of regret and dejected. I fucked it up again, love, because that is what I do and I cannot fix it because that is not what I do.

I was feeling all these feels and it’s been a week long battle set off by family outings and talk of the past. It’s been a seven day fight with what could have been.

And then. THEN. Then there was “Willow Garden”, with its rolling banjo and its stomp and I was in my seat and there was love. Who gives a shit about love that isn’t musically grounded for really, there is nothing more powerful and perfect than that. Who cares for that foolhardy enterprise that sets one to their bed with tears over what cannot be changed when there is a singalong waiting for you, if you’ll just dare venture to your old “office” chair to hear it?

Music is and always has been my love. I forget it sometimes. Leave it to Shakey Graves, on his very own day, to remind me.

For three days, in honor of the day that gifted me the song that currently has me pumping fists in the air and yelling “Holy shit, YESSSSSSSSSSS!”, Shakey’s albums are available for whatever you can give via Bandcamp.

The banjo is back, y’all. All is right with the world and now, nothing hurts.



I’m just gonna sit this here for you.


You may consider this Folk Hive’s celebratory post in honor of one Shakey Graves (The Man, The Myth, The Legend) reaching his Kickstarter goal.  COLOR ME HAPPY AS FUCK.  So happy, in fact, I’m gonna re-write that sentence and add a goddamn exclamation point.  This shit is serious now.  Wait for it…


Shakey Graves :: Unlucky Skin [MP3]

This.  What I’m about to show you is what keeps me so head over heels in love with music.  More specifically, the music of Shakey Graves.  There is such beauty.  I realize that’s all wide-sweeping and shit, but I’m am consistently confounded at the ability of things like a simple video to move me so far and so fast.


Yeah.  Again, THAT.  Alejandro Rose-Garcia, the man behind Shakey Graves, is apparently working on new material and dare I say, I love this song harder than I loved anything from Roll The Bones.  And I fucking LOVED Roll The Bones, dudes.  If the new album is anything like this individual jam, well fuck.  It’s the oooohs that get me.  It’s the Springsteen-esque growl that puts this eleven miles over the top for me.

Some more Shakey Graves, something for you to put into those headphones and move about to.  I urge you, GET ROLL THE BONES and jump on the damn Shakey Graves train, ya’ll.

Shakey Graves :: Unlucky Skin [MP3]


6am Repeat is a recurring feature here at Folk Hive in which we stream the latest track that plays incessantly in the earbuds when we awake at that hour and imbibe massive amounts of coffee and cigarettes in preparation for the advancing day.  Consider it your jam of the day — a sweet, sweet gift from me to you.  I love you, dude.

From first listen, the man behind Shakey Graves had my undying devotion when it comes to music.  No shit.  For that dreaded American holiday we all endured a couple weeks back, we were gifted we a new jam from that man up there, via When You Wake and it was the bright shining spot during that day.  That’s saying a lot — I’ve got a man around and I got laid.  I fucking love Valentine’s now!  Thanks Shakey Graves!

Shakey Graves :: Chinatown [MP3]