[Text by Corey Millard in the Ithaca Times; photos by Rachel Philipson] When the Broken String Band dissolved three years ago, guitarist and singer Eric Kincaid and upright bassist Chris Watrous were suddenly without a band. But that didn’t stop them from playing — and that’s why you can find Hee Haw Nightmare tearing it up around town, delighting and scaring audiences along the way.
“Chris and I grew up together,” says Kincaid. “We were rooming together and going to open mics just to play when we got the chance. And we saw this weird red-haired dude playing banjo and singing these spooky tunes.”
And then there were three: that ‘dude’ was Matt Noonan, and once he, Kincaid, and Watrous met, the Nightmare had begun.
So began what Kincaid describes as a “roving quest” to find a fiddle player — that crucial element to what they needed to put together. Hee Haw Nightmare isn’t a grunge band, or a blues band, or a metal band — they’re a down-home, intensely ribald American roots and old time band. Throw Phil Ochs into some sticky swamp in Alabama and you’ll have a better idea of what their sound is like. And when you conjure this image — overalls, upright bass, banjo, sleeveless t-shirts, lots of plaid, plenty of whiskey — well, you need a fiddle.
Naturally Kincaid, Watrous, and Noonan (a Ph. D. candidate at Cornell University who Kincaid wryly calls a “professional mathematician”), gravitated toward native fiddle-playing stalwart Brian ‘Sid’ Burke. Burke was already playing in a number of fairly established bands in the Ithaca area, and the trio realized it was a bit of a long shot. Lo and behold, a few months later, Hee Haw Nightmare had acquired its fourth member, and the foundations had been laid for their now initimable sound.
Over the next couple of years, the band made sporadic appearances around town — the occasional performance at Bob Proehl’s former venue No Radio Records, a gig here and there at Felicia’s Atomic Lounge, the Chanti Loft, Lost Dog Lounge, and The Nines — not to mention plenty of house parties and open jams.
Local guests frequently sat in, most notably fellow folk musicians Mike Hansen, Jiamie Pyles and Gary Graeff. But though the gigs were high in energy, Hee Haw, until recently, had never amplified. They relied, instead, on the sheer strength of their delivery, which, as Kincaid notes, was starting to wear on them. They noticed that they lacked a certain polish, though it was their rawness and intensity that drew many listeners to their gigs rather than the myriad other old time groups in the area. But all the yelling, all the sore fingers, were getting in the way of the extraordinary sonic possibilities.
After this period of casual — yet extreme — performances, the members of Hee Haw Nightmare were faced with a choice. Sid had left town indefinitely (though, says Kincaid, his fiddle spot is always his should he want to come back), Noonan faced uncertainty as to where his future in academia would land him, and a decision about the band’s direction had to be made.
“We figured, ‘we don’t know how long we’ve got,’” says Kincaid. “Let’s figure out if this is a casual or creative entity. The original material takes more work, but it sparks a curiosity in people. So eventually we decided we should do [an album].”
So the band entered the studio. And in one day, on June 29 of this summer, they had both an album and a renewed commitment to the Nightmare.
“In twenty hours, we had fifteen tracks,” says Kincaid. “The album went quickly. The takes weren’t the best we’ve ever done, but they were the best we were capable of that day, with the time we had.”
It’s this focused urgency that propels them today. Fresh off the release of the album, the boys have been playing a lot more. They played two shows last Friday here in Ithaca (one at Felicia’s and another at the Lost Dog Lounge) and then went over to Deposit to play another on Saturday. They even played a set at GrassRoots Festival (a set they had won in an open band competition last year, a turning point for the band indeed), closing out the Dance Tent after a mesmerizing performance by the established old time group, the Chicken Chokers.
“You won’t see a better performance in the Dance Tent for the rest of the day,” said Kincaid.
The show at Grassroots, well amplified and well executed, was perfect timing for the band. Burke was back, and all the gears were in motion and chugging along. The decision to go for it had paid off.
What makes Hee Haw Nightmare unique is the authenticity. Sure, there’s a Ph.D. student in the mix, and Watrous is more a hippy than a hick - he works with alternative energy in the area.
With Kincaid, who devotes time to farm work and horseshoeing, Watrous, who works with alternative energy, and Noonan, the erstwhile student, the group represents a diverse and heady mix of backgrounds. But the way that they come together as Hee Haw - and their characteristically passionate live performances and unique interaction with the crowd — it’s obvious to everyone that they’re having the time of their lives.
“It feels great to say anything can happen,” says Kincaid, “I don’t anticipate having an agenda. We just like doing it. It’s so much fun.”