Down at the Pedaler's Jamboree!

A weekend of great times, harrowing adventures, and exceptional music

Ya'lllll listen: It's hard to summarize the good and meaningful and harrowing times we in Adventure Hat had over Memorial Day weekend at the Pedaler's Jamboree in and near Columbia, MO.

I was going to just make a social media post about it, but when I got to writin’, there was just too much to say. And so it’s come to pass that I’m regaling you here, in the Adventure Hat newsletter.

If you’re woefully unfamiliar, the Pedaler’s Jamboree is one of our local Missouri gems. It’s a two-day music and bike festival that takes some 2,000 bicycle riders from Columbia, down the Katy Trail, to Booneville, and back again the next day. There’s live music in communities along the way, on the trail itself, and on a big ‘ol outdoor stage on Saturday night at Kemper Park in Booneville.

This is PedJam’s 15th year. The main man behind it all is Mike Denehy, also known as the Funnest Man in Columbia. The magic of the event is reflected in Mike’s overall vibe: It’s loose and fun, and unique, and welcoming of all kinds of characters and creativity. And there are always new adventures and ideas and wrinkles. And it’s all love.

As a local musician, it’s long been on my bucket list to snag a coveted stage spot on the roster. This year, it came to pass.

And in fact, Adventure Hat got to play…twice!

To kick things off…

There’s a Friday night kickoff party at this place called the “Stompin’ Grounds.” It used to be a traveler’s mall years ago, but was effectively abandoned. There are still numerous buildings standing (well, more or less standing) on the large property, and many of those buildings are ideal for get-togethers and music shows.

Many of the bikers camp out there Friday so they can get a jump on the ride Saturday morning. The big idea this year was to create PedJam in miniature by having multiple entertainment acts littered along a little walking trail. The partygoers would enjoy a few minutes of each one—three-song sets, or thereabouts—before shuffling onto the next.

At the end, everyone ends up in the barn for a proper foot-stompin’ concert that goes late into the night, with a headliner on the big stage. (Bipedaler’s Jamboree? Pedestrian’s Jamboree?)

Adventure Hat (the trio) was the first stop. That means we kicked off THE WHOLE SHEBANG.

We (the trio—Seth, Kristi, and Erica) showed up nice and early and trekked the couple hundred yards down the trail. We figured we had plenty of time to slather ourselves with bug spray, decorate ourselves with lights (thanks Erica!), and run through all three songs before the throng found us.

It was not to be! We made it as far as bug spray and body lighting before people showed up. Ope. No matter. We were ready.

I (Seth) had previously decided we would play this little set entirely unplugged. Why would we do such a thing?

Well.

Side story!

[Back in time, to PedJam 2023…]

Rewind one year minus two days, to the last PedJam, when I played wingman to the colorful-haired, locally legendary, slightly raunchy, country songbird, Meredith Shaw.

[Insert wavy time-travel effect. Cue computer voice: “Welcome. To Twenty. Twenty-three.”]

We were the last band on the last day, playing our set through a full PA system on the McBaine stage.

After we finished our set and were chatting and packing our gear, Mike zoomed up, jumped off his bike, and ran up to us, out of breath. “I have an idea,” he wheezed. (Any time this man says I have an idea, it means something fun is about to happen.)

“Do you want to keep playing, even though you’re pretty much packed up?” Uh, hell yes. Is that a trick question?

He had realized that all of the bikers who had yet to make it this far on the ride—hundreds of them—were still headed this direction, because all of them were headed to the Hindman Junction, where the Katy Trail and MKT Trail meet. Riders all had to pass through there to either head home to Columbia or continue on.

So Meredith and I grabbed a guitar each and hustled the quarter mile or so down the dusty bike trail, still in our boots and cowboy outfits. We had no sound reinforcement of any kind. We just played and sang as loud as we could. My guitar was too quiet to take solos, for example, so we just kinda improvised how we performed a bunch of the songs.

It ended up being a major highlight of the weekend. Sure enough, dozens of cyclists stopped and formed a semicircle around us. Dozens more pedaled through. We had to rotate around throughout to engage the audience, so sometimes we were playing back to back, sometimes side by side, etc.

I hammed it up. I called for a cold beer, and when some random person produced one, I chugged it in one go and booted the can. (Tiny fun fact: Months later, on a float trip dow the Missouri, I met that person officially and realized she was the Beer-Giver, and now we’re friends!) In the middle of a song, I kissed a random woman in the crowd (my girlfriend, actually, but most of the crowd didn’t know that, tee-hee). And so on.

We ended the set with a spirited singalong of “What’s Up” by the Four Non Blondes, country-style.

We had a blast, and so did the crowd.

It turns out, there’s this magic to playing without a sound system, and without a stage to speak of. People can’t chitter and chatter to themselves like they can when it’s all amplified. And everyone has to crowd in close to hear you. (And they can, because their ears aren’t being blasted to bits by a big loudspeaker.)

For the performers, you get this freedom to be physically very close to the individuals in the crowd. They can’t not react to you if you’re two feet away, locking eyes with them while you croon.

And soooo…

[Insert wavy time-travel effect again! Same computer voice: “Welcome. To Twenty. Twenty-four.”]

Singing our hearts (and throats) out

…when the chance to do this little mini set on the PedJam kickoff night came up, I wanted to recreate that same unplugged-on-the-trail experience for us and for the audience.

And so it came to pass.

We’d prepared just three songs, per the format. We started with “Rather,” a new tune, which builds slowly but gets nice and big towards the end. Then “Arizona Pines,” which has quickly become a reliable favorite whenever we play. And we wrapped it up with “Get Loud,” a hooty, hollery, lyrically aggressive song about body autonomy.

The effect was just what I’d hoped—people leaned in close (after a little gentle goading on my part), and it felt intimate and cool.

Major shoutout to Kristi, who usually handles keys, for busting out…a clarinet?! Sure, why not. It’s just her tertiary instrument that she’s only ever played in public a couple times before. And we practiced those songs with the clarinet ONCE before that performance. But as always, she killed it. Rockstar.

The rest of the kickoff night (Fri) was a gas. There were more performances from other folks, culminating in a full-length show in the big barn from The Spooklights. We saw so many pals, knocked back just the right amount of beers, and danced a little too much.

There was just one small, insignificant, teeeeeeny tiny li’l problem: Not only had we sung our hearts out, we sang our throats out, too. Both Kristi and I were completely hoarse afterwards. And we still had a full set to perform on Sunday morning, some 32 hours hence.

Everything that should have gone wrong

So we had a great time Friday night, and we all enjoyed day 2 of the event (Saturday). There were lots of performances to enjoy, even if (like me) you weren’t hoofing it tens of miles down the bike trail. But to truthful, by the time we hit 2pm or so, we were gassed. It was hot, we were tired, so we trudged back home and crashed out.

(Aaaand got ourselves shaken back alive in time to hit up Rose Park that evening for a full show by the Mobile Funk Unit!)

But even there, enjoying a cold beer, hot tunes, good friends, and perfect weather on Saturday night, I was getting seriously worried about the fate of our Sunday morning set.

There were so many things that should have gone wrong.

My voice was totally gone. So was Kristi’s. And the forecast had been calling for Sunday morning thunderstorms, and we were supposed to start bright and early at 8:30am. The spot we were scheduled to play, the Katy Roundhouse in New Franklin, has a covered stage, but it’s most certainly an outdoor venue.

Also, we had planned some extra stage fun for the set, and I was worried it wouldn’t come off.

Side story: One of the super fun extra things we planned for our Sunday set was the world premiere of the Pedaler’s Jamboree THEME SONG. PedJam impresario Mike Denehy’s dad, Gerald, had written song lyrics about the event as part of a writing class assignment. Gerald, you see, is a PedJam staple. He’s done every ride and knows everyone.

In his lyrics, he shouts out a bunch of the other mainstays, as well as some of the details about where everyone rides, etc. etc. It could only be written by a true insider.

Mike got the idea to have someone (me!!) write music to go along with it as a Christmas gift to his old man.

And so it came to pass. And they liked it enough that, over a coupla cold beers, Mike and I schemed on how to include the song at the event. He created a web page on the official site about a week beforehand, including the lyrics and chords. (And Gerald made a video to go with it!)

And then the idea was that Adventure Hat would debut the song during our Sunday AM set. We scheduled a time for it, hoping that would draw in more riders.

It was important to me to get that right…

I was also worried about whether I would physically be able to perform, voice or no.

Another side story: So I had (have) been suffering from what has now been diagnosed as Meniere’s Disease. I’ve started having occasional terrible vertigo spells that last for hours, where all I can do is pace around and sometimes vomit. Then after the attack subsides enough that I can finally lay down, I’m so exhausted and fatigued that I’ll have to sleep for hours and hours. Then I’ll get up long enough to eat something, then back asleep for the night.

Meniere’s Disease also includes symptoms such as a feeling of fullness in your ear, tinnitus, and hearing loss, all of which I was experiencing in spades.

And it acts like an autoimmune disease in that sometimes it just kind of shows up. I hadn’t had a bout in three years, but suddenly I was losing entire days, sometimes more than once per week. No idea what the triggers are, so I can’t avoid them. I just…hoped I wouldn’t get an attack the morning of the show.

All this, on top of the normal stuff you tend to worry about before a performance: Are we prepared enough? Will the sound be good? Will people show up?

Truthfully, I was preparing my heart to get broken. I didn’t think there was any way any of it was going to happen.

The clouds doing their thing

Indeed, as I was falling asleep Saturday night, already groaning at how little shuteye I would get before the alarm went off at 6am, I heard the thunder rolling in.

It stormed aggressively. I learned later that the overnight storms were bad enough that many of the PedJam campers were preemptively sheltered in the local YMCA.

My heart sank a little.

I woke up with no voice whatsoever. While we got ready to go, I sipped tea and coffee and apple juice and sucked on lozenges and drank water, and hoped.

The rest of the band pulled up to my house so we could carpool together, which is when I learned that Kristi’s voice was as shredded as mine.

But having no voice seemed beside the point, because it was raining. It had rained all night. It was raining as we loaded all of our gear into the van. It was raining when we got on the highway towards New Franklin.

There was a moment there when I felt pretty low. It seemed all but certain that the whole thing was going to be cancelled. And I had dragged my girlfriend out of bed at 6am, on a Sunday, into the rain, ON HER BIRTHDAY, with the promise of driving all the way out to this park for nothing. My bandmates were digging deep, too…tired and sore-throated and wet. And I had put a stupid amount of work and emotion into preparing for this show.

But then, down the road apiece, we all noticed that we could see the edge of the cloud cover. It was blowing away from us. Could it be…?

By the time we got to New Franklin, the rain had stopped.

But! A new problem: Someone had left all the PA system equipment uncovered from the day before. It was all soaked. Power amp, cables, power strips…all of the active electronics. Freshly showered by Ma Nature herself. And when I say soaked, I mean you could pour the water out of them.

Fortunately, I had Luna Hawk. Luna fronts her own very cool band, Luna Hawk and the Hounds (some Violent Femmes and P.J. Harvey vibes), and she’s also a professional sound person. I hired her to run our sound for that show. And because she’s a pro, she had brought enough backup gear to make the system work. Saved!

And they pushed all the show times back an hour to accommodate for the weather, so we had tons of time to load in and sound check. A luxury.

And we found a bird’s nest inside a pipe sticking out of the ground. Clearly, nobody had told the momma bird that hundreds of people were coming by, and she was unhappy and staying away from the nest. So Erica found a worm and fed it to the baby birds, which is so exactly something Erica would do.

While I was wiping my forehead in sweaty relief, I thought of another potential issue: I wasn’t sure anyone was planning to shoot video of the theme song. Before I was able to ruminate on that and stress myself out further, I saw Chris Kendrick, one of the event photographers, unloading his gear.

I knew him only because I’d seen him shooting the day before. I dashed over and asked if he was PedJam official. He was. Was he here to shoot the theme song when we perform it? He was not. Or at least, he hadn’t been asked to.

I quickly explained the situation. He understood and assured me that he’d get it. (Spoiler: He did. And he nailed it.)

The final hurdle to this whole show coming together, though, was the fact that 2/3 of the vocalists in this band woke up without voices. We had been doing our best all morning with liquids and such, but weren’t feeling super optimistic. But by some PedJam miracle, once we hit those hot mics for sound check…all was well.

Our voices were there. The phlegm and irritation and inflammation were gone, replaced by our usual clear full-heartedness and -throatedness.

So there we were, all potential problems dodged, solved, or otherwise swept away. Literally and metaphorically speaking, the clouds had parted!

Show time.

PedJam Magic!

And so we began. We sounded great—Luna had worked magic. The shakiness I was worried about disappeared (except for a few moments when I completely blanked on some lyrics here and there).

We were tight, the solos were lit, the vocal harmonies clicked.

The crowd kept growing, as more riders rolled in.

When there was a critical mass, I stopped the show to ask everyone to join me in singing “Happy Birthday” to my girlfriend.

When I saw Mike hustle into view, I knew it was time to unveil the theme song. We played one more tune, then I called him up on stage.

I figured the theme song debut would be a really fun thing, but I did not expect it all to go over as well as it did.

Mike gave a little speech. Then his dad, Gerald, came up and said a few words, too. It was lovely and warm and meaningful and fun.

While I was tuning my axe and listening to the fellas, I noticed that lots of people in the crowd were holding sheets of paper. Song lyric sheets! Yesssss! I love a good song lyric sheet. That means we’re fixin’ to have a singalong!

So I kicked off the song. Bear in mind that the song is full of shoutouts to the actual people who are known around PedJam.

And as we sang, there were little shouts when they were named. The various teams. The booty-shakin’ dancer. And so on.

And every held up their cans and shouted “PLENTY OF BEER” every time that line came around.

It felt great. They’d already adopted it. And from what I can tell, it was meaningful for the Denehy gang, which made me very happy.

Really, it couldn’t have gone better.

Gratitude

We wrapped up our set, packed up our gear, and carpooled over to the next set—our buddies Travis Feutz and the Stardust Cowboys.

It was there, under a tent in Rocheport, after we grabbed fresh beers and sat down, that I started coming down from the energy of the show. FOOMP. Tired.

I laid down on my back and stretched out, rested my head on my girlfriend’s lap, and closed my eyes. The overwhelming feeling I had was gratitude. Second: peacefulness.

I got to play music with my friends—full band, large crowd, great energy. Then there I was, flanked by close friends and bandmates, enjoying our other friends and their music, melting into my girlfriend’s embrace. The cold beer was a nice touch, too.

I sure was glad to be down at the Pedaler’s Jamboree. Looking forward to next year…

Check out all the official PedJam images from Notley Hawkins, Chris Kendrick, and Nate Jesse!