Gavan Wieser: Beastly But Still Priest The Acoustic Scene, June 1997 Issue Published by the Southwest Folk Music Association by Rusty Hyngez "Shame" is a word that is foreign to Gavan Wieser. "When I was eleven or twelve years old, one of the things the guys kidded me about was the fact that I was taking piano lessons while they were playing sports. Well, in the long run, I got more ass than any of them." Not the kind of talk that you would expect from an ex-candidate for the priesthood. But in a sense, that fatherly (with a small f) manner has never left him. A tall man with a snow white beard, Gavan is like a father to many of the musicians in the valley, young and old, folk and otherwise. He looks for potential in your performance, and if you've got it, and maybe even if you don't, you're likely to find a friend in him. Gavan hopped on the folk music wagon train way back in the early sixties, back when the folk revival swept across the land and the potential for making big money was there. Although he didn't make that big money, that didn't shake his commitment to music. Through stints as a school teacher, social worker, on-air radio personality, etc., he played in polka bands, bar bands, as a church organist, and as a soloist. When I asked him how he managed to survive a rather checkered and rowdy life thus far, he said, "If you don't believe in yourself, you're never gonna convince anybody else that you're worth listening to." Gavan's endurance seems to have payed off. As of this writing, he is in Europe, touring Germany with the oldest living punk band, One Foot In The Grave. They haven't earned those big elusive bucks yet, but they are getting celebrity treatment (or is that mistreatment?) over there. This is their fourth annual European tour, and they have a grueling schedule, nineteen cities in three weeks. They have been featured in the Wall Street Journal, Rolling Stone and People Magazine, and several European newspapers. In the U.S. and even in Arizona, they can't seem to get much recognition (It's true what they say about prophets being welcome in their own country). As a solo performer, Gavan and his acoustic guitar perform a broad cross-section of songwriters familiar only to the most dedicated folkies -- from Robert Earl Keene, Jr. to Chuck Brodsky. Like an acoustic Lenny Bruce he stands tall and doesn't give a rat's patootie whether you are offended or disgusted by the songs he performs. In a warm, rich voice, he'll sing about anything from guns on the highway to dogs making love to your leg to a guy's love for motorcycles and redheads. To listen to Gavan is to experience a strong sense of incongruity -- a mixture of kindness and lewdness -- that cuts to the core of the human heart. He presents an idiosyncratic blend of goodness and evil. Looking like he might still be comfortable in priestly vestments while mouthing sexually suggestive lyrics, he embodies that aspect of the human condition that we would like to pretend does not exist, the scatologically sacred, the vulgate of vulgarity, told in a way that gives him great credibility with the right congregation, I mean, audience. If you catch a performance by Gavan singular, or One Foot In The Grave plural, you'll have to decide for yourself how you feel about him, and there's not much neutral ground. One thing for sure: if you're in Germany and your picture appears on a poster with David Hasselhof, you've got no reason to feel shame. Last update 10-Mar-2002. © One Foot In The Grave. Contact us or sign the Guest Book.