I'm at home, slumped over my desk, singing the blues. I don't have a job, my utility bill is due in less than a week, and I don't have the 250 bucks that the monopolistic corporation wants. I'm a writer, and I am writing a lot, I am writing like a madman, but the writing is going nowhere beyond Face Book, and Open Salon.com.

And then the phone rings.

 It is Snave. Snave of Snave and The Grass. 

Snave founding member of Mudcat. 
Snave, one of the most talented musicians on the Atlanta music scene, and way beyond.

"Mikel," he says, "We are playing the DBA BBQ on St. Patrick's Day, and I want you to cover the story." 

I lift my head up a bit from my desk. 

"I'll need to be paid dinner," I tell him. 

"No problem," he says. 

When I first met Snave, he was playing the flute on the sidewalks of Atlanta, Danny Dudek, and Evan Lee Frayer standing next to him, Evan on percussion, and Danny on his acoustic guitar. The trio was known as Mudcat, and everywhere you went in Atlanta, you would soon find Mudcat playing; on sidewalks in front of music friendly businesses, and more and more in clubs.

These were three cats who wanted to let it all hang out; their desire to play music was matched by no band in the land. All three are still letting it all hang out, Evan in his band, Mudcat is THE Mudcat, now internationally famous, and Snave in his band, Snave and The Grass. 

It is St. Patricks day and Snave walks to the stage holding a dark beer and a shot of whiskey. "Good thing that my probation officer is not on Face Book," he says with a wide smile on his face and a mischievous look in his eyes. 

The restaurant is busy. Fast moving servers move efficiently through the crowd often holding green beer. 

"Oh shoot, I forgot to make a list," says Snave having just kissed the blarney stone. "Normaly, we are Snave and The Grass," Snave tells the audience, but tonight we are Sheamus and The Shillelaghs." 

The band launches into its first song. Seemingly out of nowhere a three or four year old girl appears on the dance floor, and starts to dance in front of the band. 

The thought crosses my mind that the youngster is a leprechaun that the band has somehow conjured up to join them. More small children appear on the dance floor in front of the band. Soon, there is a circle of them, jumping up and down, moving from side to side, smiling, laughing. One little girl is break dancing. 

Then, as soon as they appeared, the little ones are gone; back to wherever leprechauns go, I imagine. Snave and The Grass have charmed them, just as they are charming the rest of the audience. People do not just eat when Snave and The Grass play. They eat and they smile, and they eat, and they applaud. 

The band does not overpower the space. Their music compliments it. DBA BBQ restaurant owner, Matt Coggin, between carrying plates to customers' tables and lugging full bus tubs to the kitchen, often stops and watches the band. He has a smile on his face. It is a cool restaurant, with great food. Snave and The Grass play three incredible sets. Snave's guitar seem, almost, to be on fire at times. The Grass are burning up, also. Too quick, the gig is over. 

The good thing is that the band will be back at DBA for Cinco De Mayo. If you don't want to wait that long, can catch the band at the Northside Tavern, this Saturday, around 4 o'clock playing at one of the biggest blues events of the year, the annual Chicken Raid hosted by Mudcat. I will be there. I will be reading poetry at some point there, but more importantly I will be there to give you more of The Story about Snave and The Grass. The band killed it on St. Patty's day; let's see how they do it at The Blues Fest.

snaveandthegrass@live.com

myspace.com/snaveandthegrass

reverbnation.com/snaveandthegrass

--Mikel K Poet

http://www.mikelk.com/