Photograph courtesy of The Schwag
It’s almost embarrassing at this point. When something crops up as culturally new or notable, the chance of that thing residing along the Cherokee corridor is reasonably high. So it’s not a surprise that when The Schwag began working with founding bassist Jimmy Tebeau, recently released from Yankton Federal Prison, the band found a practice space within a stone’s throw of the famous Indian statue at Cherokee and Jefferson. Here, inside of a mid-sized storefront decorated with large banners for their upcoming show at The Pageant, members of The Schwag have been woodshedding for real, running through songs in rehearsals that last up to five hours.
After a couple of restaurant concepts came and went, the location became the home of event planner, concert booker, and caterer Justin Shire. He’s taken on a regular tenant in The Schwag, whose members we found in his window-heavy space last Wednesday, running through the two long sets that will make up their Pageant show on Saturday, May 24. Set up in something like a loose oval, the four mainstays of the group (Tebeau, drummer Dave Clark, keyboardist Jack Kirkner and guitarist Sean Allen Canan) were working at a relaxed pace, slotting in some songs that have either never been played, or have been long shelved by the popular Grateful Dead tribute.
Some, like “El Paso,” are new to their sets. Others, like “Folsom Prison Blues,” are being reworked; this one, for obvious reasons, is being recast as “Yankton Prison Blues.” Performing together for the first time in almost exactly one year, the band’s only playing one song that was on that 2720 Cherokee playlist last May, a crowd-pleaser that’ll have a special place on the evening’s track list.
That show, which featured a round-the-block line and an eventual sell-out, resulted in 2720 becoming a hot, steamy, karaoke experience, the entire audience singing along by the time that the group closed out the sendoff, “Touch of Grey.” Everyone there knew that Tebeau was heading to jail on controversial drug charges that could’ve taken him away for up to three years.
Kirkner says that some shows are carried by emotion, while others score for technical precision. But this one “had tremendous meaning to it, and was one of our best shows ever.”
Clark remembers that “it was just really bittersweet, but an incredibly fun show. The energy was absolutely incredible, but we knew it wouldn’t happen again anytime soon. We thought it could be up to two years. And we were worried about our fearless leader going to prison.”
As it turned out, the wait wasn’t as long as was expected; though Tebeau’s return for this celebratory show comes with more than a few strings attached.
A SORT OF HOMECOMING
Jimmy Tebeau’s conviction on federal drug charges has been a much-told story. In short form, though, the bassist and godhead of the area’s jam band community was essentially charged on the belief that his campground and concert venue, Camp Zoe, had become an environment that allowed for rampant drug sales. Located in Salem, Mo., Camp Zoe, known for The Schwag’s popular, weekend-long Schwagstock and Spookstock concert events, was one of the biggest employers and tax-generators in central-south Missouri at its height, employing dozens and drawing thousands of concertgoers to that rural corner of the state.
Since the federal government’s initial takeover of the 330-acre site, a lot has changed. Including the story of the actual venue, which has been bought by the State of Missouri for the purposes of a new state park. Tebeau is still, officially, a federal inmate, though his story’s a curious one to tell.
That’s largely because Tebeau can’t actually talk about his own life. At least not right now. Catching up with the band at their space last week proved interesting, as Tebeau’s not allowed to be interviewed, or photographed. Luckily, his band members are well-versed in his story, and they’re able to fill in the gaps. For example: on a musical level, he’s allowed to play, but only for shows that take place within the St. Louis city limits; and all gigs need to end by 11:15 p.m. On most nights, his home’s a halfway house at MLK and Kingshighway in North City, where he stays with a real cast of characters, by all accounts. On some weekends, he’s allowed to stay at his own home for 54-hour stretches, but under a form of house arrest.
While that may seem limiting, it’s at least a step removed from his months in Yankton Federal Prison, a minimum-security facility in Yankton, South Dakota. There, Tebeau proved to be a model resident. He helped run the campus’ music program, even working out of an actual office. He played with three prison bands and, to help pass time, he rehearsed on his own for up to six hours a day, often on acoustic guitar. There, he even began to sketch out some of the songs that would wind up on the playlist of the upcoming Pageant show, while his remaining bandmates rehearsed and gigged together in St. Louis.
Canan, for example, heads up a Wednesday night session at the Broadway Oyster Bar. Called Sean Canan’s Voodoo Players, his group tackles a theme, artist, genre, or album every week. It was a good place for the remaining Schwag members to coalesce and play.
“The three of us have logged a lot of hours,” Canan says. “We’ve kept the chemistry going. When we got back with Jimmy, we gelled right back together.”
“The first couple rehearsals,” Clark says, “were acoustic. And a lot of fun. It felt really natural. And Jimmy stepped right back into the flow.”
While The Pageant’s the big comeback show, the band does have some other gigs planned, spotting in dates during July and August; all of them will be in the City of St. Louis, all of them will end at 11:15 p.m. On September 9, Tebeau’s incarceration will be officially lifted. When it is, the band will be allowed to travel out of town again. Quickly after, they hope to hit the road. What won’t happen, though, is Tebeau returning to the Jerry Garcia Band, with whom he was moonlighting for the past four years. Instead, it’ll be all-Schwag, all the time. It’s also understood that he’ll never open a campground again. No way, no how.
READYING THE COMEBACK
The Schwag’s new headquarters resembles other rehabbed city buildings, with exposed beams and bricks, and large, street-facing, nearly-floor-to-ceiling windows. Ever the jokester, Kirkner says that, “this was an early-1800s rehearsal space for a Grateful Dead cover band. You can really see the architect’s vision coming through. It’s just great.”
This statement, along with a couple of others, draws a lighthearted groan from the band, who’re no doubt used to their piano man’s wit. During a short rehearsal break, the group spreads out for a few minutes. Kirkner’s outside for a smoke. Canan’s tapping at keys, catching up on email. Clark’s a quiet one, sitting at a desk and only offering comments when directly asked. Which is more than can be said for Tebeau, who can’t talk, at all; poor guy’s band got back together, for what could be a full-house Pageant show, and he can’t discuss it. What a world.
Back up and playing, though, it’s even shorter bursts of conversation that tie the four together. Canan, in a rare moment, misses a chord and apologizes; while Tebeau, free to talk in this context, asks the group to restart the segued intro to “China Cat Sunflower.” There’s tons of unspoken conversation happening, too, between four musicians who’ve clocked hundreds, nay thousands, of hours together, whether playing, traveling or socializing.
Remarkably, Tebeau, a slender gent already, looks even more trim since his return from Yankton. Clad in his traditional, mutli-colored tam, a long-sleeved shirt and belted Levi’s, his big beard and bigger dreads seem to dominate his frame. But here, attached to his headless Steinberger bass, with a microphone in front of him, he looks completely comfortable, completely at ease. For 12 hours a day, he enjoys this sort of freedom. Though a phone call, at any time, can come in from federal officials, confirming his location and activities. He’s cool with it. In fact, he stands closest to the phone, just in case.
On that freedom front: so far, so good. And this weekend, things will get even better. The band’ll be in front of its far-flung fanbase, gathered together for the first time in 12 months. Some hula hoop dancers will join in the show, as will vocalist Heather Barth. Richie “Shakin” Nagan, a percussionist with George Clinton’s P-Funk All-Stars, is traveling down from the Bronx to rattle those shakers, just as he did for last May’s 2720 goodbye show. At that one, longtime Schwag associates Brad Sarno and Tracy Lowe jumped in on guitar, taking the group back to its inception in the ’90s. It’s possible that a few surprises might still be sketched into the evening—or might just happen, spontaneously—but it’ll mostly be Canan, Clark, Kirkner and Tebeau that’ll carry the emotional weight of the night.
This time, the bittersweet tones of last May will be a lot less bitter, a lot more sweet. And the group’s building two sets that highlight the words of Dead lyricist Robert Hunter, shaping their sets around vibes and lyrics, in tandem.
“There’s a lot of built-in poignancy,” Kirkner suggests. “Traditionally, Deadheads are analytical in celebrating Robert Hunter’s lyrics. This situation offers a lot built-in lines that you can pick up on,” as a listener. For the musicians, “you can alter the situation with the song selection.”
Without ruining all the fun and guesswork, as the clock races to 11:15 p.m. on Saturday night, there’s a good chance that some of Hunter’s lyrics are going to be sung along to, pretty much as they were on May 25, 2013. That time, though, the band promised that they would get by. This time, they’ll offer up the idea that they’ve gotten by, that they’ve indeed survived.
The Schwag: Jimmy Tebeau’s Return happens May 24; doors open at 7 p.m., with the show running from 8 to 11:15 p.m. Tickets are $10, $12 for minors. The Pageant, 6161 Delmar, 314-726-6161, thepageant.com.
