Firehose, seen here palling around in the old days, still keeps things drama-free.
Firehose will always be associated with Mike Watt’s beloved hometown of San Pedro, but the truth is that if it weren’t for Santa Cruz, the band never would have existed.
That’s because after D. Boon died in an automobile accident in 1985, the surviving members of his band Minutemen—Mike Watt and George Hurley—weren’t sure they’d ever play music again. But not too long after, Santa Cruz’s own college-rock legends Camper Van Beethoven came into the picture when they crossed paths with 22-year-old Ed Crawford.
“They were on tour, and I was living in Columbus, Ohio at the time,” remembers Crawford, “and they played a little club called Stashes, which is where all the punk bands used to come and play. I went and checked them out, had a good time, and after the gig I’m standing around talking to the guys.”
The details vary depending on who is telling the story, but two things are certain: 1) Crawford worshipped Minutemen, and explained this to the members of Camper at length; 2) at some point, someone in the band (he thinks it might have been CVB bassist Victor Krummenacher) suggested to Crawford that he travel across the country, track down Mike Watt and audition to be the new Minutemen vocalist-guitarist.
Incredibly, that’s exactly what Crawford did. No one is totally sure anymore if the Camper boys were pranking Crawford or just being really, really enthusiastic about helping him pursue his dream. Crawford remembers them saying something along the lines of “we heard maybe he’s auditioning guitar players,” while David Lowery, in his excellent 300 Songs project, recalls the actual suggestion as the more innocuous ”Why don’t you go out to San Pedro and see if those guys need a new singer/guitar player?”
“My memory wouldn’t be the most dependable. I’ll go with David’s version,” says Crawford.
As to what made him actually go to San Pedro, Crawford chalks it up to an overdose of youthful enthusiasm.
“When you’re 22, you really don’t think things through. I just figured, ‘Why not?’” he says. “That Minuteman lyric ‘our band could be your life,’ that kind of stuck with me. I bought that hook, line and sinker, and I said, ‘All right, that should be my life. Let’s go do that.’”
What’s even more remarkable is that Crawford was able to convince Watt and Hurley to form a new band, which became Firehose. Score another one for youthful enthusiasm?
“Absolutely,” says Crawford, “because I certainly wasn’t that impressive as far as my chops. I was still learning how to play the electric guitar. I had just bought an electric guitar. I didn’t even own an amplifier when I moved out here.”
A mix of punk energy, funk grooves and jazz experimentation, the band’s music was a natural extension of what Minutemen had pioneered. They were cult favorites, especially on the West Coast, and put out five albums before rather abruptly disappearing in 1994. No one seemed to know at the time exactly what had happened to Firehose.
“We did 980 shows in seven years, about three tours a year. We practiced every day that we didn’t tour, five days a week, two hours a day. We had a very serious work ethic, and we might have just burned ourselves out,” says Crawford. “We didn’t really break up, to tell you the truth, we just quit playing. There wasn’t any nasty shouting or throwing shit. It wasn’t like that at all.”
Their reunion, too, is atypically drama-free. Watt and Hurley had continued to occasionally play together, and Crawford had kept in touch. When Coachella came calling last year, they weren’t able to play, but organizers came back to them this year, and they accepted and planned some additional dates leading up to it.
Here in Santa Cruz, as at a handful of other shows, Firehose is paired with alt-country singer-songwriter M. Ward, an odd combination inspired by his own love for the band.
“He heard that we were out and available,” says Crawford. “He was a big Firehose fan, and Minutemen, of course.”
And to think it’s all because of an offhand comment from a little Santa Cruz indie band. Upon meeting Crawford again after Firehose formed, and learning that he had taken their advice, Lowery told him, “Dude, do you know how high we were when we told you to do that?”
Crawford, of course, has no complaints. “It’s one of those weird twists of fate,” he says. “Turned out good!”
Firehose and M. Ward
Thursday April 12 8pm
$26
