It took place in a matter of hours. Six to be exact. But each second of this event was a joy to be part of. So much planning. So much work and so much love went into the event, and it went off without a hitch. Okay maybe one visit from the Asbury Park Police … but that was to be expected towards the end of the night. But even that didn’t put a damper on the fun that was had, and the joy that was shared. Friends and family playing music, singing songs, or at least trying to … for each other … at the Hoover Hootenanny.
The idea of this event was actually rather smart. It wasn’t some attempt at a night of bad Karaoke … no pre-made soundtrack to warble over. It was a opportunity for a collision of history, past and present. A chance for all to meet in one place at one time. It was a night of reunions, rusty chops, jitters, and dreams, with both newly minted and seasoned musicians. Where past intersected with present forged future friendships and the seeds of new ideas were planted … waiting to flourish.
I hadn’t seen Geoff Hoover since our back to school days at CW Post out on Long Island. I graduated in 1982 from Post. We did see each other after that, but meetings were few and far between. I also got to meet his wife Tatiana shortly after they were married. In between that time and now a lot transpired. The Hoover’s had three children, Indiana, Duke, and Texas and set off on the process of raising these babes, into find upstanding (and musically talented) men. But during that time we never had contact.
To make a long story short, we reconnected through my finding posts of Geoff’s old student films on YouTube. That was how first contact was made. From there Facebook filled in as the medium for daily interaction. When he talked about this party, I knew I wanted to go. He wanted me to come. He and Tatiana even offered to buy me round trip tickets from Seattle. I was fortunate enough to “come into” enough money to get me there. And so it was. Joe flew back to Newark Airport, picked up by Tatiana … and the rest is history.
What follows is only a fraction of the live music. There were so many talented musicians, singers, songwriters, and brave souls singing maybe for the first time in front of others. Though the night was shear magic … there was even a magician.
It took me nearly a year to get this post up. It sat as a “draft” since a few weeks after the party. With the next Hoover Hootenanny A.K.A “Hooverplaooza” on the horizon … I thought it high time to get up what I could.
I’d like to thank once again the entire Hoover family for their warmth, love and friendship …. and one hell of a party!
See you soon!
These are his stories …
The 1933 is the latest iteration of Indian Hoover’s songwriting talent vehicle. The 1933 name is derived from the birth year of one of Indy’s ancestors. It’s this sense of past and musical history that drives young Indy in his writing and playing adventures. His grounding in the sincerity of roots “American Music” is what informs this talented songwriters progeny.With the accompaniment and added talents of younger brother Texas Hoover on accordion and vocals, and friend Charles von Rosenberg on guitar, mandolin and vocals, they are a heartfelt voice in this compelling new American music.
UPDATE: All three 1933 videos have been removed from YouTube.
I had not performed live since the last time I played with my band “The Human Element”. It’s one thing to play for yourself in the comfort of your living room. It’s quite another to play in front of a large group of people … who are really there to have a good time. None the less I played. And I played my heart out.At one point in the evening my friend Tommy Meares got up and played trombone on a new song I wrote for the occasion, “St. Mark’s Place”. At first I didn’t realize he was even up ON the sage, until well into the song. But when I realized he came up and played after having played 2 gigs earlier … I was honored and touched. After playing Tommy told me he came up to lend moral support, after seeing me have a rough start. Thanks to Indy too for helping an old man in his time of need. : )