We are getting a lot of requests for the schedule and lineup each day and while it’s still an evolving situation, here’s where we are currently…

During the week of the concert, starting Monday 11/27, anyone who has purchased passes can pick them up at The COAST Outpost in Old Town — 803 Whitehead Street. We are open daily from 11:00am to 5:00pm and will be open later on Thursday, 11/30.

Coast Is Clear, Day One: Thursday, 11/30 in Bahama Village

• 11:00am: Will-call opens at The COAST Outpost — 803 Whitehead Street. Pick up wristbands, t-shirts, etc.
• 4:00pm: Poolside set with local music and happy hour at The COAST Outpost. Open to all pass holders.
• 5:30pm: Soundcheck at The Green Parrot with Patrick & The Swayzees. Open to all pass holders. There will be a $10 cover for anyone without a wristband.
• 7:00pm: Blue Heaven dinner set with Cayman & Friends. Open to all pass holders and dinner guests. Drinks and dinner available for purchase.
• 8:30pm: Blue Heaven “Singers in the Round” with Langhorne Slim, Rayland Baxter and Rorey Carroll on the back stage. This is only open pass holders and is not-to-be-missed! If it’s not sold out, we will sell tickets for $30 at the door.
• 9:30pm: Patrick & The Swayzees and The Skank at Green Parrot. Local jam with $10 cover for any folks without wristbands.
• 10:30pm & Onwards: Special guest appearances at unannounced spots. You’ll just have to keep your ears open and stay tuned…

Coast Is Clear, Day Two: Friday, 12/1 on Stock Island

• 4:00pm: Will-call and happy hour at Hogfish. Come for food and drinks, listen to music and pick up your wristbands ahead of the crowd.
• 5:00pm: Doors and will-call open at COAST. All COAST performances require either a single day (Friday) pass or a two-day pass. If tickets remain or aren’t claimed by 7:00pm, passes will be available at the door for $60.
• 5:00pm: Local band (TBD) on the front stage
• 5:45pm: Rorey Carroll on the main stage
• 6:45pm: Local act on the front stage
• 7:15pm: Rayland Baxter on the main stage
• 8:30pm: Langhorne Slim on the main stage
• 9:45pm: The Skank on the front stage
• 10:15pm: G. Love on the main stage

Alright, so that’s where we are at the moment. Things shouldn’t change too much, but times could be pushed up or back without warning. We will keep everyone updated if things change more than a little, so stay tuned and thanks for all of the support!

Okay, so a lot of folks are asking about line-ups, schedule, ticket pricing, so here’s the deal…

As many of you know, we currently have the following performers confirmed: Langhorne Slim, Rayland Baxter, Rorey Carroll, Patrick & The Swayzees, and The Skank. We are also awaiting confirmations from a few additional national acts and we’ll round the schedules out with more of your favorite local bands.

Right now we are only selling the two-day all-access “Coast Crew” passes (for $100) which get you into any and all shows. This option is, of course, the best value and you won’t be kicking yourselves for missing any of the amazing performances. They are available for purchase at The COAST Outpost, 803 Whitehead Street this weekend — through Sunday 11/22. Then starting Monday, we will put any remaining tickets on-line, right here on our website.

Once the all-access passes are sold-out, we will offer Friday-only passes for the Stock Island shows.

Currently, the concert has evolved into a two-day, multi-venue festival taking place in both Bahama Village (Key West) and Safe Harbor (Stock Island). The line-up and times are subject to change, but for the moment, it’s looking like this…

Thursday, November 30 // Bahama Village:

• 11am at The COAST Outpost, 803 Whitehead Street: Will-call opens for folks picking up passes, t-shirts, coozies, etc.
• 4pm at The COAST Outpost: Small backyard poolside show for any all-access pass holders to officially open the festival.
• 5:30-7:00pm at Green Parrot: Soundcheck with Patrick & The Swayzees — $10 cover (for non-pass holders)
• 6:30-8:30pm at Blue Heaven: Local act for dinner crowd and all-access pass holders on the small stage.
• 9:15-10:45pm at Blue Heaven: National performers on the back stage at Blue Heaven. Open only to all-access pass holders due to capacity limitations. Ticket price would be $30 for this show alone, but at the moment only those will all-access will be admitted.
• 10:30-12:00am at Green Parrot: Night moves with Patrick & The Swayzees — $10 cover (for non-pass holders)
• Late Night: Who knows? But we’re cooking something up…

Friday, December 1 // Stock Island:

• 4:00pm at Hogfish: Will-call and happy hour local opening act for any all-access or Friday-only pass holders.
• 5:00pm at COAST Stock Island: Will-call and doors open for all pass holders
• 5:30-6:15pm at COAST: Local act on the front stage at COAST.
• 6:30-7:30pm: National act on the main stage at COAST.
• 7:30-8:00pm: Local act on the front stage at COAST.
• 8:00-9:15pm: National act on the main stage at COAST.
• 9:30pm-11:00pm: National act on mainstage at COAST.
• Encore Shows & Special Guests: Guess you’ll just have to see for yourselves…

Again, this is what we know for now, but as we make more confirmations and refine the schedule, we will let everyone know what’s going on.

For now, probably a good idea to jump onboard. It’s bound to be one hell of a trip…

By Mark Faris “The Coast Bard”

There is something especially wild about a Cat 4 storm. They are so rare. So fearsome. Truly one of Mother Nature’s most traumatic, awe-inspiring displays. The harrowing howl of hurricane banshees sweeping, shrieking and hammering the terra. Malevolently seeking to impose their suffocating embrace on all manner of the realm. Their incursion and departure set the stage for a dizzying array of uncommon sights, sounds and assorted shenanigans. Not to mention all manner of bodily emanations. There just seems to be no end.

Nevertheless, as we find ourselves submerged here In the continuing wake of Big Irm, still doggedly extricating ourselves from the staggering heaps and snarls of debris, respite from the drudgery is available. Necessary ingredients include slightly skewed perspective and taste for the bizarre. Humor and a few bushels of optimism don’t hurt, either.

Such qualities, of course, abound here in paradise.

Just the other day, for example, I found myself lazily spooning creamed corn from a can into my drooling chops, all the while perusing long-awaited removal of a battered old Chris sloop washed ashore on the beach of a local resort. There was a big barge just offshore, armed with a winch and two hard workers manning it. Undiluted sunshine spilled without restraint through true-blue sky and billowing piles of bleached cotton cumuli.

Quite the scene.

Sharing the view, an iguana, perhaps six-feet away and not quite the size of Godzilla, comfortably parked his scaly carcass on a large, windburned palm and considered the winch action with uncommon interest. For an iguana. How surreal, yet understated, was the activity unfolding here. Before my very eyes.

Something to be acknowledged. Considered. Appreciated.

And fact is, such seemingly uncommon scenes have become daily fare during the post-Irma clean-up which, it seems, is never-ending. To regard the endless maze of narrow island byways choked with towering, tangled heaps of branches, appliances, mattresses, stagecoaches, rusted carnival rides and the like, it would seem the clean-up will never end.

But such perspective recalls the words of a verbose shrink determined to ingrain the “one day at a time” postulate into the very being of her many and varied clients. Time never ends, she would say. It passes day by day. And all that happens in one day becomes all that need not happen the next. It sounded as if she was pontificating without having an actual thought in place. And soon, an additional shrink was needed to translate and counteract the effect of her words. Nevertheless, the point, I suspect - and hope - was that patience and perseverance, even in small doses, eventually will win the day and accomplish what once seemed all but impossible.

And, lest we forget, there was more sad news in the midst of Irma clean-up. Word of Tom Petty’s passing was sad news, indeed. It hardly seems possible the Gainesville native and rock hall of famer (2002) would have been 67 October 20. Tom’s demise recalls some of his favored syllables: “You and I will meet again. When we’re least expecting it. One day in some far off place, I will recognize your face. I won’t say goodbye my friend. For you and I will meet again.”

Tom may be gone. But his words, music and aura remain. And we are the better for it.

In the wake of Hurricane Irma, the best thing we as a community can do is to rebuild with the help of our neighbors — and that comes in many forms. Right now, many of us are — and have been — knee deep in the actual devastation that the storm caused to our island homes in the Florida Keys. Cleaning, cutting, tossing, trashing, repairing and rebuilding have occupied our time and space for the past few weeks. For many this will continue in the days, weeks and even months to come.

But amongst the debris and the darkness we need to look for the light. If nothing else, there’s been a stronger sense of community since Irma passed here a few weeks back. People have set aside their differences and what were once their priorities, in an effort to help out those in need — and the community as a whole. Restaurants offered free food, neighbors offered a helping hand, first responders offered time and expertise and together we all benefited in the midst of what was otherwise a disaster.

But as we get further from the eye of the storm and closer to our everyday obligations, we can’t forget that sense of community that allowed us to rebound as quickly as we did.

Key West is fortunate enough to have loads of hands and solid infrastructure in place. We have a thriving tourist industry that will slowly allow us to put the storm in the backs of our minds. We’ll soon trade our work boots for flip flops and our chainsaws for dive masks. Cruise ships will jockey for space at the piers, Conch Trains will weave through the newly cleared streets, hotels will fill up and by Thanksgiving we’ll all be ready for “season”. And the cycle will continue.

That said, I want to assure all of us Key Westers that I’m not discounting the devastation that happened in our own backyard. When I first got back, Key West looked like a war zone and reports were that it was far worse in the days after the storm when the road was still closed.

People lost a lot in Key West, and in some sense there was a lot more to lose — the history and heritage here is entirely more decided and delicate than in the rest of the Keys. Hundred year old trees snapped like twigs — one crushed the late Shel Silverstein’s family home in Old Town — while decades-old boats that everyone recognized broke free from docks and moorings never to be seen again. The list goes on here in the Southernmost City, but my point is that we have already returned to some sense of normalcy, while our neighbors in the Lower and Middle Keys have not.

Just ten or fifteen miles up the road — and extending all the way to Islamorada and beyond — they won’t be as fortunate in the near term. The storm hit there harder in both a physical and metaphorical sense. Homes were leveled, properties flooded, hearts were broken and dreams shattered.

Along with all of the other evacuees who have made it back home, I saw it first hand as I drove back to the end of the road when it finally reopened. It was an odyssey. And photos didn’t do it justice. Words probably won’t either, so I’ll just stop here and get to where I’m going…

In seeing everything unfold, and in witnessing the aftermath, we can’t forget what the storm did to the Florida Keys as we get back to our daily routines. Most of all, we can’t forget the sense of community that allowed us to get back on our feet. And while we might not be in a position to continue to chainsaw and rake and repair in the coming weeks and months, we can still come together and be there for one another — eventually, once more, in the literal sense of the word.

At the heart of COAST is community. It’s what allowed a scrappy little trap yard on the edge of town filled with a ragged band of dreamers and doers to build houseboats that made hope float, to start a summer camp that teaches kids the value of getting dirty, to turn a single t-shirt into a full-scale retail operation in Old Town and to host some of the most memorable concerts the island has ever witnessed.

We managed all of this because of the people who thought it was a worthy cause — and it was you, our neighbors, who were there at the beginning when the odds were stacked against us. We’ll never forget that, and we always want to do our part to give back to our neighbors when the odds are stacked against them.

With all of this said, we are planning to host a benefit concert on November 30 — the last official day of hurricane season — a symbolic day to both remember, and move on from, the storms of 2017. At the moment, we are working on the line-up of performers which will have a mix of local and national talent.

Proceeds from the concert will go straight back into what the community needs — with emphasis on some of the places that were hardest hit by the effects of Irma. And we’ll connect with community leaders and organizations to find out where the funds will best be placed.

But what we are really hoping to accomplish is to re-establish that literal, tangible connection with our neighbors that we saw when we were down and out, displaced and devastated. Only this time we can celebrate and smile, sing and dance and collectively hope for a better road ahead.

While we work on all of this, we encourage you to keep your spirits high, hug your neighbor, take time to enjoy a sunset, have a cold beer, and spread the word.

And of course, stay tuned…

By Mark Faris “The Coast Bard”

As many already have noticed, time on Earth doesn’t always proceed in the desired fashion. Indeed, bumps, ruts, snarling, snapping wolverines, lightning bolts and the occasional steaming pile patiently await as we pedal our way along life’s challenging path.

Just the other day, for example, an acquaintance residing in the hinterlands of central Florida watched his backyard, and freshly lined badminton court, dissolve into a yawning, sucking sinkhole. And this, right after learning his dog, Tex, a three-legged pug with short fuse, needed back surgery.

There is no shortage of head-shaking as we hobble through our appointed rounds. But often head-shaking just isn’t enough to assuage the cringing double-crosses that beset existence.

The soothing sting of a Bullard’s dry gin martini doesn’t always do the trick, either.

Nor does a heavy session of electroshock therapy. A Fred Astaire/Ginger Rogers film bender. Or apple pancakes with lemon honey (although that one does come close).

But when all else fails, just when the sky seems most bleak and hope a distant, diminishing glimmer, always — always — there are hats.

Not just any hats.

Hats that have something to say. Something worthwhile. And in many languages. With lisps. With stutters. And innuendo. With humor. And a point of view.

As most already are aware, debate over just who invented the hat continues to rage. (And, no, it wasn’t Thomas Edison, although it is said he had a hand in development of the propeller beanie.)

It’s not crystal clear, either, as to motives for invention of the hat, although it seems likely to have been prompted by either vanity (how do I look now, honey?) or survival (if I don’t get some relief from this sun, my head’s going to burst into flames!)

Definitive answers to these pressing issues may never be fully uncovered. But at least we’ll have something to mull during long elevator rides.

Whatever the case, hats are us.

We keep them here at our sumptuous emporium on Whitehead Street, deep in the very heart of Key West’s fabled Bahama Village.

Skillfully woven by weathered, leathery hands in a distant continent, each unique creation brings to bear a mystical joie de vivre that is functional as well as aesthetically appealing.

Such chapeaux can put steam in the step and provide a calming sense of well-being.

In other words, not only do they pack Key West cool, they also prevent crania from spontaneously combusting beneath a blistering Caribbean sun. And as we all have become aware, such occurrences can be both uncomfortable AND embarrassing. Additionally — yes, additionally — these lids also reduce the need for packing cumbersome fire extinguishers.

For those of a less adventuresome nature, we stock a more conventional, baseball-style cap that still combines beguiling island appearance, durability and function.

In other words, if these hats had mouths, they would utter “Coast Key West” without even opening them. And then hum a lilting medley of Stephen Foster favorites.

By Mark Faris “The Coast Bard”

Here at our little emporium on Whitehead Street in Bahama Village, we at COAST enjoy contributing to the well-being of our island community. We consider it a labor of love as much as our civic duty.

Such contributions may be offered in any form that assists in the negotiation of daily routine here in paradise.

So when word came down that a considerable chunk of ice had separated from the continent of Antarctica and currently is backstroking its way toward the Atlantic — perhaps even the Gulf Stream — our antennae went up.

At 2,200 sq. mi., the frosty flow is about the size of Delaware, contains roughly the same volume of water as Lake Erie (my favorite Great Lake) and has a 700 ft draft. So the likelihood of it sneaking-up unnoticed is considered slim, although it IS said to be a relatively quiet iceberg. At least, compared to those inhabited by polka bands.

The daunting news hardly went unnoticed here. Especially in the eyes of our seaworthy captain “Dollar” Bill Kearins.

Fortified with the mandatory mariners’ meal of Harpoon Harry’s acclaimed bloody Marys and bacon, and armed with a 22 ft. Panga named Music as well as a crew of seven stouthearted souls with a taste for adventure, Kearins & Co. set sail on iceberg reconnaissance in The Gulf.

Scouring the reef and scattered isles far offshore, Capt. Kearins now is pleased to issue an “all-clear” in regard to incoming icebergs.

Always the multi-tasker, however, Bill decided to take advantage of azure sky and sparkling sea to check the status of outlying keys, including Boca Grande, Western Dry Rocks and Woman Key.

The three popular stops — also eliciting all-clears — proved worthwhile, especially Woman Key. Resplendent with its 100-plus feet of waist-deep visibility covering acres of soft, white sand, the tiny key provided refreshing respite from the rigors of iceberg reconnaissance.

“We jammed some solid tunes,” says Bill, “mostly The Dead and mid-seventies Buffett. Opened a few Modelos. And were treated to a perfect sunset re-entering Key West Harbor. The sharks out there didn’t bother us at all. At least, not those of us who survived.”

In retrospect, says Bill, we all are better people because of that day. Perhaps safer, too.

Nevertheless, local mariners still are urged to keep a weather eye on the horizon, and give an extra wide berth to anything afloat that resembles Delaware. Or even Rhode Island.

By Mark Faris “The Coast Bard”

Some years ago, it was written that yours truly is “a cat who doesn’t take serious things seriously.”

I didn’t mind the cat part. That was cool. Although I suspect cats may have taken issue.

I didn’t mind, either, that time and some — albeit limited — thought had been applied to address my own bad self. Someone had considered me worthy fodder.

But what did stick in the craw a bit was the notion I did not take serious things seriously. Could this be so?

Moi?

After 29 seconds of massaging the gray matter and descending precariously into deep thought — all the while assembling a magnificent BLT on lightly toasted whole wheat, sans crust, and generously slathered with Blue Plate mayo — acceptable rationalization emerged in the form of another query: And just WHO IS IT that decides “serious”?

Much like beauty, determination of all that is “serious” rests solely with the beholder. I reckoned.

And what, you may be wondering, is cause for resurrection of such “serious” blasts from the past.

None other than the toast of Coast, himself, Dollar Bill Kearins.

Indeed, the very one.

It seems just the other day — actually it was just the other day — Billy was approached by the honorable John Vagnoni, of the Green Parrot Vagnonis.

As proprietor of that venerable (1891) bastion of boogaloo, John is perpetually on the make for all manner of instilling his message of the love, fun and crossed eyes purveyed there on the corner of Southard and Whitehead.

To that end, he was calling upon Billy’s internationally acclaimed design skills for a suitable T-shirt, one bearing the distinctive, yet understated, sun-drenched, sea-washed flair that has become the Coast trademark.

Cruel, but fair, Billy rarely is averse to accommodating deserving souls in the community. And John certainly is one.

But the toast of Coast did not build his empire through lack of shrewdness. A student of astute, Billy quickly replied to John’s request.

“You start stocking Modelo,” he said. “And I’ll design your shirt.”

The deal was consummated in short order as attested by a recent photo of the pair in the Parrot, Modelos in hand, Billy rocking a newly printed Parrot Tee. And John in its equally smart Coast counterpart.

So what, you may ask, has all this to do with perception of serious?

Just this.

For some, the stocking of Modelo wouldn’t be considered particularly grave. But in Billy’s eyes, quite the contrary.

A one time ardent supporter of Red Stripe, Billy got wind one fine day that the brand had relocated from Jamaica to LaTrobe, PA, and, as such, no longer could be billed as Jamaican beer, but as Jamaican-STYLE beer. Worse yet, the aesthetics also had been diminished. The beers’ distinctive and stylish logo no longer was screened onto the bottle, but affixed with glue.

Such deviations may not seem significant to some, but for purists, no way! It was insulting.

Enter Modelo. It is all Red Stripe originally was — cool packaging, smooth, light . And imported.

So there. Don’t mess with Dollar Bill.

And next time somebody tells you something is serious. Or not. Consider the source. Then look in a mirror.

And try to smile.

By Mark Faris “The Coast Bard”

It is an interesting story. Interesting enough, at least, to invest precious moments pecking it out here on the front porch of the Coast digs on Whitehead Street.

Sweltering July heat in Bahama Village is attention-getting. Even the old in-and-out (breathing) can be challenging. So if I can just get my little buddy, Grumpy here, to occasionally mop my expansive brow, I shall get on with it.

A while back, a quaint gent from the Red Hook neck of the Brooklyn woods, found his way into our studios on Stock Island and rented space. Said he wanted to train homing pigeons.

Nothing unusual about that. Right. At least not compared to a previous tenant who was trying to develop practical flip flops for chickens. That project, incidentally, never really got off the ground. Although it did pique considerable local interest.

At any rate the pigeon guy, doing business as Duke Riley, moved in, and soon had his project off the ground. In no time the feathered flappers were airborne over Key West and zooming in and out of the island on a daily basis.

Quite something, really. Weeks passed. Months. A trend developed. The birds soared in formation. Buzzed kite sailers. Strafed delivery scooters. All in fun, of course.

But really, there had to be more to this monumental pigeon production.

Duke wasn’t cracking the whip just for kicks and giggles at the expense of locals. Indeed not. It turns out, the man — a conceptual artist of some acclaim — arranged to sail the birds to Cuba for the sole purpose of airmailing stogies back to the U.S.

Not just your run of the mill stogies, either. No, señor. Their cargo was to be the good ones, the coveted Cuban Cohiba.

Indeed, the very ones Jesus smoked. And Ricky Ricardo.

Of the 50 fowl that eventually lifted-off from Beard Central, 11 made it back to Coast HQ. The others are rumored to be lighting-up in Capistrano.

The feathered fiasco was prompted by Riley’s take on embargo issues with Cuba. And El Duke seemed happy with the results. So did the birds. Although one - we’ll call him Homer - developed a nasty nicotine habit.

Whatever, as El Duke was heading back to Flatbush, he expressed gratitude in the form of a lovely custom-crafted design for one of our tees. It has become quite popular, too, although we still harbor hope for those chicken flip flops.

By Mark Faris “The Coast Bard”

There’s a lot to see from the front porch of Coast. Not the least of which is the eclectic mix of funky architecture lining Whitehead Street. It’s called Greek Revival, Queen Anne, Craftsman and amalgamations thereof. There’s the Key West Lighthouse, too. The towering beacon that would lead Hemingway home - a block from Coast - after evenings of cocktails and lively repartee on the stools of Sloppy Joe Russell’s Greene Street bar. The same sturdy edifice also is said to have provided inspiration for a lilting ditty titled “I Want to Marry a Lighthouse Keeper, So I Can Do Light Housekeeping.” How about that.

And then there are the tourists. The endless bebop of sweaty out-of-towners ambling in and out of Bahama Village, slurping, chirping and rubber-necking as oppressive humidity strives mightily to buckle their knees. But sometimes such distractions aren’t quite enough.

Sunday, the quest for amusement took me inside our little (circa 1850) shop for a closer look at the ever-enchanting inventory. Ah yes, lovely. Lovely, too. Then, aha, the venerable pocket tee. The only such style in the elaborate mix. You just don’t see that many pocketed T-shirts, these days. At least not as many as when I was a kid, back in the sixties - right after Lincoln was shot.

Back then almost all T-shirts had pockets. And mostly they were used for cigarets. Lucky Strikes, Camels, Chesterfields, Marlboros and, lest we forget, Kools, the invigorating menthol & asbestos variety. Everyone, it seemed, smoked back then. You weren’t, aah, cool if you didn’t. Closed eyes aren’t even needed to envision those iconic labels winking from pocket tees. But with the dramatic decline in tobacco consumption - cigarets aren’t good for you - those pockets became somewhat obsolete.

But still cool. Very cool. And perfect for alternative cargo. Like credit cards. And photo IDs. Hey, and maybe even the odd ace of spades. One just never knows when that little bugger might come in handy.

By Mark Faris “The Coast Bard”

Finding comfort on the wood and stone porch of Coast’s 150 year-old digs deep in the heart of Bahama Village is not easy. But certainly worth a try. Especially on a sweltering Fathers’ Day in Key West. Often, in the midst of this quest, passersby will notice and stop to peruse the activity in hopes it is being offered as gratis warm-up for Punch & Judy episodes.

Sometimes, amid the backdrop of tasteful Hemingway likenesses framing my chiseled visage, not to mention the fact Papa’s one-time shanty is but a block down Whitehead, they will notice a similarity in appearance between yours truly and the late Key Wester. Especially if they have been snorkeling in the sea of rum in which our island constantly is awash. Testament to such tippling often is in the form of failed but dogged attempts at making music by blowing, cross-eyed, into conch shells. Occasionally even the inhabited variety.

On a recent Sunday, for instance, a dapper octet of Asian visitors — replete with the most charming array of parasols — happened by. Obviously in no particular hurry, they lingered before the porch casually observing my dilemma in finding comfort. Then it happened. I hadn’t heard such panicked, staccato contralto chatter since witnessing the explosion, some years previous, of a giant wok full of the days special (beef chow mein, I believe it was) in the kitchen of a popular local Chinese restaurant. The assembled eight had noticed a likeness of Hemingway on one of our T-shirts and it’s similarity to moi. The serendipitous spontaneity of the occurrence apparently was too much to process gracefully. The frenzied din continued for perhaps a minute. Maybe two, before they regained verbal equilibrium and realized the forces of evil were not at work. Then, laughs all-around.

Just another amusing case of mistaken identity.

Well, we’re starting another series. Probably not a big surprise to our cherished following — we’ve started about a dozen or so over the past four years. Some still in effect, some doomed from the start. You never really know where ideas will go or where projects and prototypes might end up, but I guess that’s kind of the beauty of it. So we cast them off the dock with a certain sporadic regularity to see if they’ll float.

​This particular series will feature the pensive pondering, reverie and cries for help from my old pal Mark, aka The Coast Bard. Never to be confused with actual deep thought, Mark’s reflections basically will be a blog series — hopefully once weekly​ and ideally available on Monday mornings so you can get your work week off on the right foot. Or left, if you prefer. But again, we’ll see. At any rate, before we drop the first episode on you, I thought it might do some good to offer the backstory, so here goes…

I met Mark reluctantly in 2002 — about a week after I started scrubbing decks on a couple of boats down at what was then the Hilton Marina — I believe it’s now part of the Piñacoladaburg conglomerate​.

Whatever the case, I’m 22 (go ahead — do the math)​ and totally happy to be scrubbing the foredeck of a sailboat in Key West. But as I wince-off a late night at the break of dawn, I look up to see an old salt. Believe he was wearing ​a ​plaid six-pence hat on that very morning — and notably older than everyone else within a stones throw of said vessel.

“Damn who’s that?” I thought — equally ​intimidated and irritated with what appeared to be a new crew member. Must be a new captain with the graying beard and advanced sense of style. A look that conveyed simultaneously — “I don’t care, I have been around the block, the block has been around me. And where’s the ice.”

But onwards…

Turns out Mark is a new mate on the boat. And in my mind — as well as every other twenty-something’s mind who was scrubbing the decks — was about to throw a wrench into everything we stood for.

Boy were we wrong.

Halfway into the first trip the “old man and the sea” was more interested in what we were having for lunch and if we drank during work than anything else. Told us in vague speak that he’d made a living as a rock journalist throughout the 70s, 80s and early 90s. And while it seemed too good to be true, especially for a classic rock aficionado like myself, turns out he had the stories to back it up.

Weeks passed. Beers consumed. Post-sunset-sail sessions of “name that tune” happened. And those soon turned into Saturday morning knocks on the door when Mark would roll up and meticulously peruse and activate our vinyl collection — or at least liberate it.

​Yes, I’ve always dealt in vinyl.​

Fast forward…

Ten years older — none the wiser. I’d kept in touch with Mark all along. Random meetings as we’d enter and exit Salvation Army looking for vintage scores, an old pocket knife, used letterman’s jacket, a lamp that said “lights out”.

It was always like we never stopped seeing each other — just picked up where we’d​ left off.

Then came Sundays​ at the new shop on Whitehead.

And new responsibilities with staffing a store in Old Town. Where for once ​we’d need to keep store hours — and our word. But no one wants to work Sundays. Not generic types, anyways…

Mark?!

As I said, our meetings were always just a matter of course – never planned. No phone number. No email. Just the outside chance I’d see him coasting Old Town on one of his vintage beach cruisers armed with nothing more than a pair of the most stylish shades you could imagine and a vintage shirt from the brothers Brooks that was one button between ​just ​okay and totally obnoxious. Mark is the master of drawing that line.

​Well, the ​chance ​meeting happened — that very week in fact. Believe it was outside Olivia Street Grocery after he’d bought a fistful of lottery tickets hoping to score another win for cool. Rumor has it he won the biggest ticket on the island in the past decade. Which might explain the steam in his step, distinctive hitch in his get-along and aura of well-being enveloping him before diminishing noticeably just before 5 p.m.

At any rate. I ask if he wants to work the shop on Sundays. And he’s in.

I recall his former occupation as a writer and ask if he’s interested in adding to the legacy. He’s into that, too.

​So let’s welcome Mark to the COAST Crew. He’s here at 803 Whitehead Street​ every Sunday.

​What follows are his words.​..​

READ THE FIRST SHOPTALK EPISODE

We’re not even sure where to begin, because it was just a totally rad evening from start to finish, but in looking back at Friday’s G. Love & Special Sauce concert out here at COAST, a few things are worth noting…

1.) When the band and crew showed up in that 70 foot tour bus to our ragged tin shed on Stock Island, nobody inside knew what was going on. I’m not sure they’d played anything like this in 20 years. But soon enough they were walking around, checking out the place—smiling and laughing—and were stoked to be playing their first show ever in Key West.
2.) The Skank killed the opening and truly set the tone for the rest of the night.
3.) Forty-five people rode bikes to the show—so damn cool!
4.) Dozens and dozens of others took cabs or the free shuttle—that helped sooo much!
5.) The sheriffs showed up once to see what was going on and were ridiuclously cool and helpful. Said if we needed help with the next one to just give them a call!
6.) G. Love & Special Sauce hit the stage at 9:30pm and rocked it from start to finish.
7.) G. Love hopped into the crowd during a song and played right there amongst everyone!
8.) I got a text from the manager at 11:15pm wondering if it would be okay if they kept playing. They played until almost midnight!
9.) People that have seen them play for years remarked that this was a way longer set than they had ever seen.
10.) Everyone involved—from staff, sponsors, bands, concert-goers, authorities, and neighbors—were so incredibly cool

And for that we thank you!

Guess that means we should do it again…

The first COAST shirt was printed back in late 2012 shortly after we stumbled upon our current home base and production headquarters on Front Street in rough and tumble downtown Stock Island. At the outset, we never imagined the shirts would end up as much more than a uniform for resident artists or a keepsake for our local friends who dropped by the space to say hi and have a beer.

But sometimes things happen that you don’t expect.

Over the past four years, we’ve continued printing our “COAST Live by it.” shirts and they’ve continued to sell not just to our friends but also to folks who, like us, stumbled upon the old tin shed on the edge of town and wondered what it was all about.

Throughout this time, we’ve always wondered if heading down to the crowded streets of Old Town would be a blessing or a curse. Would it ruin the slow pace and open space that we so appreciate or would it introduce us to another group of curious folks who we might have been missing all along?

Well, we’d never know if we didn’t try, so after seeing a “Space Available” sign hanging on the window of an old house during a morning bike ride, we did what we had done four years prior — made a call, crossed our fingers and got to work.

And now we’re here. The address is 803 Whitehead. Come by for a visit…

COAST Old Town is open daily from 11am to 5pm.

Nashville’s Rorey Carroll began making a big a name for herself from coast to “COAST” in 2016. And she’s headed back to Key West in late February after crowds fell in love with her a few months back.

In early November, the rising star in the folk and Americana music scene took the stage at our place for short sets as an opening act for the two sold-out Todd Snider concerts. Snider, a proverbial folk legend, has taken it upon himself to mentor the young singer—just as John Prine had done for him early on in his own career. And the relationship seems to be working.

Carroll ended 2016 with Rolling Stone magazine featuring her second album, “Love Is An Outlaw” as one of the top 15 country and Americana albums “you’ve never heard but should” while High Times magazine called her “Outlaw Folk’s newest star”.

When asked about her coming back so soon after her last appearance, COAST founder Billy Kearins said, “when Rorey took the stage back in November the crowd fell in love with her at first sight. Beyond the voice and songs, she, much like Todd, is a master of storytelling and she really captured the audience from the opening chord.”

He added, “in the days that followed those two concerts, we had just as many people praise Rorey as they did Todd, so we re-connected with her and she was really excited to get back down here to play at the end of the road.”

The concert is February 25 at COAST on Stock Island. Doors open at 5pm and the evening will start with local outlaws Billy the Squid and the Seacow Drifters, followed by sets from Nashville songwriters Chris Watts and Ben de la Cour. Rorey should be taking the stage at 9pm.

As with all shows at COAST, it is expected to sell out ahead of time and tickets can be purchased at in our online store.

​We’re excited to bring down these two for an intimate, acoustic set under the stars on December 16.
The show time is likely to be 9pm, but we are still working through some details. Tickets are currently on sale in our online store but they’re bound to sell out quickly.

PURCHASE TICKETS

​Todd Snider’s called many places home — Portland (OR), Austin (TX) and most recently East Nashville, Tennessee where he’s become a true folk songwriting legend in a town filled to the brim with musicians trying to make it big.

But Todd’s big break came in the mid-1990s by way of Key West (kind of) when our island’s own most famous troubadour — a guy by the name of Buffett — discovered him, took him on the road, and signed him to his label. The rest, they say is history.

Since then Todd Snider has played around the globe, entertaining audiences at his legendary live shows with a mix of smart, witty songwriting and between song storytelling that is as personal and hilarious as it honest and thought provoking.

We’re beyond excited to bring Todd down for two shows — both very different in their own way — and we hope you are, too. The first show is at The Studios of Key West on November 1 at 8:00pm and the following night we’ll host an encore show at our place in Stock Island.

Tickets will go fast — early interest has told us that — so grab them while you can!

On Saturday, May 7th we’re stoked to host an afternoon and evening of original music culminating with the album release concert for Buffalo Pistol (aka Kris King), Key West’s most under-the-radar songwriter.

The local sailor, surfer, and stylemaster’s latest album was written, performed, produced and recorded right here in Key West over the past few months.

To kick it off, we’ll have a host of local and national artists taking the stage for a series of sets and rounds starting at 2pm.

Please note, Buffalo Pistol’s set will be a seated event.

Get your tickets — children are free!

“Tomorrow is the Florida Presidential Primary and I’ll be voting.

It’s tough to mix business and politics, but for those who know me and appreciate what COAST stands for, one candidate just makes the most sense.

The beauty of our country is that everyone has a choice and no matter if you agree with mine or not, you can head out tomorrow and cast your own vote for whoever makes the most sense to you and to your dreams of a better future.

And at the end of the day, we can all still be friends.”

- Billy Kearins, Founder

*Shirts available in the shop

PURCHASE TICKETS

It’s been a little over a year since these boys blew through town — dust flyin’, feet stompin’ and good times all around.

But they’re back for two nights this December 4 and 5. We’ll have one show in Old Town at The Key West Theater and one on our home court at COAST on Saturday. The Saturday show will be a full day festival and we’ll let you know more details as they come to life.

Tickets are available for both nights right here in our webshop.

Here’s a glimpse of last year’s performance…

By Britt Myers | Keys Weekly

Long before the hipster invasion took stride in mainstream America, the Hackensaw Boys string band pioneered a bluegrass crusade that has since become the mainstay modern muse. The interchanging ensemble of four have been finger picking Appalachian blends of bluegrass-fused melodies with jam band rhythms for the better part of two decades. Couple that with a bravura display of “rockabilly” styled live performances — and this weekend’s shows are a can’t miss in Key West.

After two years, the nationally acclaimed Hackensaw Boys will return to the Southernmost City for two eclectic gigs in two unique settings. The first show will take place this Friday, Dec. 4 at the Key West Theater, while a second performance goes down at COAST (6404 Front St., Stock Island) this Saturday, Dec. 5. Check out www.coastprojects.com for tickets and info on Saturday’s music festival.

The Keys Weekly caught up the Hackensaw Boys’ Ferd “Four” Moyse, who plays the fiddle beside his percussion, guitar and banjo counterparts.

Keys Weekly: The Hackensaw Boys band have played some of the largest outdoor music festivals in the world. Why is playing at a location like COAST so special for you?

Ferd Moyse: I think COAST embodies what a band like Hackensaw Boys wanted to be. You go there and your like, “Oh my God. There’s art and there’s music and there’s guys building boats” and its just an awesome place to do artistic stuff. It’s not often you get to play at a venue and walk away inspired to do what you do better.

KW: It’s often been said that the difference between a fiddle and a violin has to do with the color of your neck. As a fiddle player, can you describe the difference?

Ferd: [laughing] I’ve heard a lot of funny differences, but one I always liked is, “You never spill beer on a violin.” And I guess that’s true. I’ve never been to a symphony and seen the violinist drinking a PBR. But then again, I don’t go to a lot of symphonies.

KW: The Hackensaw Boys have been an interchanging cast for more than two decades. How did you get started with the band?

Ferd: I was playing the fiddle at a bar and I guess it’s just one of those “be careful what you wish for” kind of things. They would play at my bar and I remember thinking, “Man, I wish I could play with those guys.”

KW: But your fiddle roots were traditionally bluegrass at a time when bluegrass wasn’t mainstream. Did you foresee the band pioneering a movement?

Ferd: When I joined, my traditional bluegrass friends sort of rolled their eyes. But the Hackensaw Boys had a vibrancy of freshness that was already relevant. I didn’t really know or think about how the string movement would become mainstream — I just know how it moved me on a personal level and I guess it did the same for a lot of others.

KW: A former band member described Hackensaw Boys as “old-time Appalachian punk rock.” Does this label still encapsulate your band?

Ferd: We’ve had over 13 guys in the band at one time and now we have four. I would like to think the spirit of that comment is living on. Music others have never heard is what punk rock is. We’ve never tried to do or be just one thing.

KW: So how would you describe Hackensaw Boys today?

Ferd: In some ways, when there’s no space to fit into, you just have to create your own space and that is what we do. Sometimes we are fiddle-driven and sometimes it’s very rhythmic. When you play with four people the song can take over and you just ride it. It gives you that Allman Brothers or [Grateful] Dead kind of vibe and it’s fun.

KW: You are self-admittedly drawn to old-time bands and bluegrass. Who is someone you listen to or that inspires you?

Ferd: I would have to say Allen Toussaint. He’s another New Orleans dude that died a few weeks back. But he’s so cool because he’s been behind so many awesome parts of music for so long — and always kind of in the shadows. But here’s a black man from New Orleans that wrote “Working in the Coal Mine.” But my band mates all listen to different stuff and I think that’s the coolest thing about us — we were brought together for the love of music. Not because we loved one genre, but a love of music.

KW: What are you guys working on today?

Ferd: We are wrapping up our current album that Larry Campbell produced. How cool is that? Here’s a guy that was in Dylan’s band for 10 years and produced Levon Helm’s records and suddenly he’s taking time away from major shows to play with us at a brewery in Pennsylvania one night. But that is what makes music so cool. I’ll probably never run into Bob Dylan at the punch bowl at the Christmas party, but music does make the world smaller. And it doesn’t always give you gold-backed currency, but it does give you a different currency that feels pretty good.

​Nothing like throwing together a little last minute concert. Our largest concert to date no less. In what could possibly be the slowest week of the year in Key West from a tourism stand point. And then selling out in 36 hours!

But that’s because of the locals — pretty much the only people who know we exist out here on Stock Island. So thanks to everyone for the ridiculous support — it’s because of you that we could even consider trying to make this work.

As far as the sell-out goes, we’ll be announcing a couple of ways for people to still get their hands on tickets, so stay tuned on social media for more on that.

For those of you that acted fast, here’s some day-of info worth noting…

First off, we are trying hard to pull together a shuttle system so that we can alleviate parking issues and so that people can enjoy a few extras drinks during the show. We’ll follow up on this as soon as we have worked something out. Even if you do not intend on taking the shuttle, please consider carpooling, taking a cab, biking or walking. Parking will not be available on Front Street—we’ll be keeping it open for people that live on the street.

We’ll have food and drinks available at the concert — so bring cash. Money raised from the bar will go to one of our favorite local non-profits.

The show is all ages, but all children must have a ticket to get in. All tickets are will-call and doors open at around 7:30pm. The show starts at 9:00pm and any tickets not claimed by then will be released for sale.

Other than these details, just make sure you have a hell of a time. It’s gonna be rad!

Thanks again for all of the support!

The COAST Crew

It’s been a little over a year since these boys blew through town—dust flyin’, feet stompin’ and good times all around.

But they’re back for two nights this December 4 and 5. We’ll have one show in Old Town at The Key West Theater and one on our home court at COAST on Saturday. The Saturday show will be a full day festival and we’ll let you know more details as they come to life.

Tickets will go on sale in the coming weeks, so stay tuned…