Audio recorded and narrated by Sage Sweetwater at her Howling Ridge Wolf Camp Studio in Colorado.
About the Compositions
Taste it? Grab your quart Mason. A fictional Colorado biker brews a namesake
whiskey. I wrote this story poem, Panama Whiskey, to unite a warm camaraderie between a doe, her fawn, and
biker Panama Jack, a fur trapper who frees the fawn tangled up in a barbed wire fence. Hear the music? It's Jilly,
Panama Jack's wife, strumming her mountain dulcimer to the tunes of renaissance melody, drifting across the Wet Mountain Valley,
hovering over the majestic Sangre De Cristo Mountains.
Mash Camp is a continuation of Panama Whiskey. Imagine
sitting in your favorite biker bar, (I do) shootin' down your fire brand of whiskey, with a stack of quarters, eagle side
up, useful for dropping into the bar owner's 60's Wurlitzer just loaded with Grateful Dead, Steppenwolf, Morrison, and Sage
Sweetwater aka Keysta D. Lorean 45's! Side A---Panama Whiskey, now you can make Mash Camp selection---side
B. Panama Jack and Jilly cruising up Bigelow Divide in Custer County, near San Isabel, Colorado on their Panhead.
It's raining. A homesteader invites them inside his rusted, tin-roof shack to dry out, offering them each a cup of venison
stew. Offering back, they drink Masons of Panama Whiskey. They hear the homesteader's wife has a deadly tick fever.
Panama Jack and Jilly cure her with Panama's healing whiskey. On their way home, a car swerves across the yellow line---the
Harley goes down. The doe, mother of the fawn Panama set free appears. She returns a living favor by flagging
down a passing car with her ears, to help. Once again, Panama Whiskey heals. My thoughts are, "whiskey does more
good than harm," and "if you look out after nature, nature will look our after you."
Elinoar and Randall is about a real brother who I have known for many
years. I went to high school with Randall and I've scooted with him and Elinoar across the Highway 50 asphalt.
I've taken photos of Elinoar, posing in all her glory when she was entered in the bike category of an auto expo. I wrote
Elinoar and Randall's story over the telephone, talking to Randall, who supplied me with the facts, which I embellished while
I sipped heartily on several peach schnapps on the rocks, swearing the fuzz was sticking to my tongue! Randall painted
my first Harley, a 1979 XLS Sportster, with the help of another bro named Jim. Here's to Elinoar and Randall---you've
come a long ways, babes!
Illusions mirror reality in this next tale. The Vision Jammer is
a Vietnam veteran who never made it back on a Harley, instead he rides a wheelchair tripping down the corridors of a veterans
hospital, nursing on his prescription of Southern Comfort, dreaming up biker illusions. I dedicate this red, white ,
and blue tale to all U.S.A. veterans, including ones whose brave names appear on the Vietnam Memorial Wall in Washington D.C.
There is one particular line in the Vision Jammer that I want to expound on, which reflects my thought exactly, and
I voiced my thought through the voice of the Vision Jammer. That line is, "He thought cocaine paralleled
with war, just different lines were used to fight the enemy." Brothers and sisters, when we feel the enemy staring
us in the face, we need to grab another line other than the temptation of the powder line cut out on a mirror. It reflects
bad upon us. Instead, that other alternative line has a worm dangling from the hook, and we can fish our favorite streams
and lakes to rid ourselves of the enemy and two-wheel safely back to our cribs.
The Milwaukee Steel Prayer (Outlaw's Revenge) is the featured
steel narrative from the vault of THE BIKER CHRONICLES. In this transitional tale, my intention was geared to ride from
the present into the future, and to lend the brothers and sisters the biker prayer I wrote, entitled Milwaukee Steel Prayer,
giving it a voice through Outlaw. Ironically, the tale speaks of Saddam Hussein and I originally wrote this tale in
1991. Prison, justice, retribution, and the reorganization of the biker community are the themes here. The main
character is Outlaw, a brother we have all known at one time or another in our community. The futuristic nuke destroys
American dreams, but flags are still flying in the stained breeze.
Sister K. Starr---the scooter gypsy equivalent
to brother Outlaw is looking for lost and new-found brothers and sisters for the reorganization of Sturgis. She also
trades whatever she has for a biker story, because she is reviving a biker magazine lost in the gray doom. The setting
takes place in Phantom Canyon near Canon City, Colorado where Colorado's prisons thrive.
A big-breasted bikerette who goes by the bodacious name of J U G S, taps the scooter colony
drafts of "lunatic soup" from behind her biker bar she calls Brothers, Jugs, and Weed, also the title of this zany
tale. Grab your wrench, pull up your milk crate and have a listen. Today, J U G S is hosting a televised, Labor
Day swap meet at her bar. Being a biker not only entitles the biker to miles of gypsy asphalt and liquid silver-moonlight
rides, but the real glory comes from pulling the brothers and sisters together for a charitable cause. It's when you
see the gleam in an underprivileged child's eye, when you know the true definition of a biker, who was once a child.
Tattoos are controversial, tattoos are creative, and tattoos are conversation. What
it is and where they are applied is entirely up to the TAT-2-E. Tattooed On Coney's Eye-Land is about a traveling
hot dog show and a vending bro named Coney who is top dog. Somewhere in this rolling wiener schnitzel tale, I correalate
another house of wieners called a brothel, where girls will be girls, and biker chicks are known to be bold, (like me when
I was a self-employed lingerie vendor at these legalized social clubs when I lived in Nevada for a brief time). Tattooed
on Coney's Eye-Land depicts a biker loyalty of who wears whose colors. There are several different shifter speeds
of emotion here. I'm sure you'll recognize at least one. Where, what, and why did you get your tat?
The hilarity of this feather and steel tale, All Colors Welcome, No Attitudes
will have you flippin' the bird, eatin' the tequila worm, and chasin' the wiggly down with a shot of tabasco for just enough
of a hot spark to ignite your Harley soul for a ride down to your local pet store to feed the parrots. Who says a bro's
best friend is a dog? Whether you see the All Colors Welcome, No Attitudes sign posted outside a scooter saloon
or a pet shop, the message remains the same!