Two Sheds Bio
Charlie, Steve, Paul, Dave

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The History of Two Sheds Jackson

Originally known as “The Sunflower Express”, the group now known as “Two Sheds Jackson” was enjoying modest success, playing the dance club circuit in the Pacific Northwest and Southwest Canada, traveling each week to a new venue, building a following that would eventually take them on a series of Corporate functions that would lead them to an unexpected turn of events and the formation of the group as it is today.

The music scene in the 80’s was filled with opportunities, as long as you wanted to look like, sound like and act like all the other homogeneous groups that traveled in the endless circle that stretched from Eugene, Oregon out to Idaho, North to Prince George, Canada and then back to Vancouver, BC. “The Sunflower Express’, or “The Express” as the regulars called them, filled these clubs and pleased the managers to no end as they executed set after set with regularity – keeping the dancers dancing and the liquor flowing. These were good days for “The Express.”

It was in ‘Priscilla’s’, a hot spot situated in the outskirts of Vancouver, BC that the group met Doyle Clapking, a meeting that would change the career path of the group forever. Doyle had connections with the North American Stored Energy Association (NASEA), and he was attempting to put together the annual shareholders meeting and Executive Retreat for the respective member companies. The gathering was to be held near Whitefish, Montana, at a ranch owned by Brandford Chalmers, one of the major shareholders of ActiveCell, an upcoming player in the disposable battery industry. ActiveCell saw an untapped market on the horizon as electronics shrank and power consumption for these devices fell, and they were focused on bringing the atmosphere of a party, a very big party, to the Moose Bluff Ranch. Their thought, “Throw a party, spread the word that life would be more like a party if you worked for ActiveCell, and if you owned stock in the company – you would be set for life.” What better way to cap off the meeting than with “The Sunflower Express.” The band’s reputation had grown by this time to a group that could command and receive top billing, top pay, and all the amenities associated with such status.

At this time there were five members of “The Express”. Paul, Charlie, Steve and Dave handled the instruments and backed the inimitable Eddie “Pile Driver” Jackson. His nickname came from the way he approached everything. Eddie’s personality was that of a pile driver. When Eddie ate, he shoved food in as fast as he could. When Eddie knocked on your door, you always knew who it was. When Eddie sang, he never stopped stomping his foot in time to the music. In the early days of “The Express”, the club owners would often complain that Eddie’s foot was louder than the bass drum – and Eddie was no human metronome. His stomping was more about how hard he could stomp, and not so much about being in time. In fact, there was a never-ending battle between Dave (drummer) and Eddie about this. When the group graduated to a fully amplified setup in order to fill the larger clubs with the sound the group was known for, Eddie insisted on one input to the mixing console for his right foot. “What’s the f---ing point of having the nickname ‘Pile Driver’ if I can’t drive the music with my right foot?”, he would shout. Well, if you had ever roomed next to Eddie on one of the many nights he was engaged with yet another young lady you would know well why he really had the name ‘Pile Driver’. But enough about Eddie. Let’s get back to the fateful gig in Montana.

The stage was set for the group to perform on the final night at the party with the banner “All The Energy You’ll Ever Need” as the theme for the festivities. This was to be the statement ActiveCell was trying to make. At one point all the sound and amplification equipment was to be switched over to a huge bank of ActiveCell batteries to prove that this company could even drive Eddie ‘Pile Driver’ Jackson’s sound. In preparation for this, the band has purchased (at ActiveCell’s expense) special amps that would operate on DC power. No plans were in place to test this setup, as the batteries only had enough power in them to run the equipment for two minutes – and only one time at that.

So, with the meetings over and the deals and alliances made, the party went into full swing. Doyle had appointed himself Master of Ceremonies, but was so drunk by the time the band was into their second set that he was disoriented and becoming quite obnoxious. Doyle and Branford, President and CEO of ActiveCell had already had words over several of the decisions Doyle had made throughout the four-day event. So, when Doyle stepped onstage at the appointed time to showcase the DC power demonstration, things went less than smoothly.

Eddie ‘Pile Driver’ Jackson was openly annoyed at Doyle, and became upset when Doyle grabbed the microphone from him and began to make the announcements. Eddie did not like other people using his microphone … a preference that stemmed all the way back to the early years when The Express was hosting Wednesday Night Jam Nights in Aberdeen, WA at The Mill. The stage at The Mill was on a balcony, and a very drunk lady had come up to sing when she became overwhelmed with stage-fright, threw up on Eddie’s mic and then dropped it over the balcony rail to the floor below. The mic, Eddie’s pride and joy, had cost $420.00, in those days two weeks salary. Eddie had never surrendered his mic since.

Nevertheless, Doyle had the mic in one hand, a cigar in the other and the call went out to switch to DC power. Doyle said something to the effect that The Express was going to play on a bank of batteries capable of powering every bedroom adult toy in a three state region and with a wave of his hand the switch was thrown. Dave counted off the tune and The Express began. The first noticeable difference was the low output of the DC powered equipment; it was thin, distorted and lacked the powerful low frequency the band had been putting out for the entire night. Eddie was stomping his foot very hard now, trying to recreate the sound his foot would make when amplified. Charlie, Paul and Steve all flew back to their amplifiers, turning them up to full output. The excessive power drain only increased the distortion, and when Eddie launched into the one verse of the tune the band had planned to play, he sounded more like a cartoon duck than a man. This pleased Doyle to no end, and he gleefully laughed and fell over backwards on the stage, pointing at Eddie and encouraging everyone in the audience to ‘walk like a duck.’ Eddie was so pissed that he moved directly over Doyle and stomped right on the side of his head. Doyle came up, grabbed Eddie by the crotch and pulled, tearing the thin material and exposing the sock Eddie had shoved down his pants for visual enhancement. Eddie basically lost his mind and pushed Doyle into the drum set – destroying a good deal of the setup as they both landed right on top of the bass drum. Dave jumped up to get out of the way, accidentally tripping the lever that sat by the drum kit which was to release the confetti and $20,000 in $50 dollar bills from a bag suspended over the dance floor. In the ensuing chaos, several people were hurt, the CEO was punched in the nose, and Doyle tore up the check he had in his pocket for The Express. Eddie was running through the crowd now, grabbing fifty dollar bills and stuffing his pockets when he ran smack into ActiveCell’s Chief Legal Counsel, Harry Feinswell, who promptly advised him that he was going to sue Eddie, the Express, and anyone Eddie had ever known for every earthly possession they had. Charlie and Steve, seeing that the party was over, grabbed one of the DC guitar amps and their guitars and started for the exit. Paul had a guitar in one hand and ran over to intervene in the escalating argument between Eddie and Harry. When he got close, Harry grabbed the Les Paul from Paul and swung it at Eddie, cracking him in the side of the head so hard that the neck broke off the guitar, sending pieces of it flying across the room. This was one of Paul’s favorite guitars, and he lifted the broken body off the floor, turned to Harry and promptly punched Harry’s head with the guitar body. Paul had secretly always wanted to do this to a guitar, but he had these love affairs with all of them, and each one cost so much that he could never bring himself to do it. Now he was laughing, and he spun away, grabbed Eddie by the collar with both hands and began dragging him, unconscious, towards the back door. Dave, seeing his drum set was not worth salvaging grabbed an armload of the exit gift packs sitting in a box next to the stage and made a beeline for the van.

The trailer was still full of road cases so Charlie threw the door to the van open and dumped the DC amp in the back, sans case. The guitar cases were still inside the venue, so Steve shouted to Paul, “Throw Eddie in the trailer, we’ll get him later!”, grabbed the guitar Charlie had in his hand and took both guitars to the van, gently laying them on the floor in the back. Dave had the engine running, the doors were slammed shut, and The Express made their grand exit. It was to be their last gig together.

As Dave drove, Charlie and Steve were comparing notes as to what had just happened. Paul was laying on the back seat, tears streaming down his face at the thought of the Les Paul becoming kindling. The van was lurching and rocking – Dave was definitely on a mission to gain distance, because in the rear view mirror he could see several pickups pulling out of the ranch with ranch hands sitting in the back holding on to the racks the trucks were outfitted with. This was certainly not a good sign, and we were ill-equipped to outrun anyone in the van, let alone do so with the equipment trailer in tow. Steve was shouting at Dave now, telling him to slow down. Dave’s response was to floor the van as we came to the crest of a long hill. The road ahead dropped down towards the river off the bluff the ranch occupied, and it became apparent quite suddenly that we were going much too fast. As Dave maneuvered the van around a pothole in the road, we suddenly were airborne as we hit a small rise in the dirt road …. and the next thing we knew, the van was being pushed back and forth as the trailer came down sideways. There was a horrible bending sound, a groan not unlike that of some metal monster with an appendage that was being twisted and torn. Immediately the trailer tongue and hitch were separated from the van – and we watched out the side windows as the trailer, on all four wheels, headed straight for the river. As it reached the edge it seemed to square up with the bank, and then, with near Olympic style, it jackknifed in to the water, sailing some 50 feet over the river before the tongue dropped and pierced the water with a splash so great the trailer momentarily disappeared. It looked like the trailer was a total loss as the sides ripped open from the impact. Just at this moment Dave shouted “Holy &$#@” and the van dropped off the edge of the road into a muddy ravine that fed the river. We slid to a stop on a patch of gravel across the ravine – and the van was silent.

It was at this moment that Dave said “Is everyone all right?” We responded breathlessly ‘yes’ – and then Dave asked, “WHERE THE HELL IS EDDIE?” Instantly we looked out at the trailer that was floating by on the slow moving river – and Steve says “He’s in the trailer … we threw him in the back of the trailer!” By now Charlie was out of the van and had run to the other side of the ravine where he saw the pickups stop at the top of the hill and observe the trailer debris in the river. They couldn’t see the van from their vantage point, and all the mud had kept the dust from boiling up as the van went over the edge of the ravine. Charlie scrambled back and said – “Everybody stay put. They may think we’ve gone into the river!”, and he crawled back up the bank. A few minutes later he came back and said the pickups had turned back after firing a few shots from their rifles in the air in some kind of victory celebration.

It was at that moment that we heard the thumping. It was strong and somewhat consistent … and it was coming from the river. We looked out and saw Eddie’s leg come busting through the metal wall of the trailer that used to be the front. After a few more kicks the rivets, already compromised from the impact, broke loose and Eddie came crawling out and onto the top of the floating pile of metal, foam and road cases. Eddie was jumping up and down, laughing like a mad man as he waved his arms in the air with fists full of money scavenged from the party. His back was to us, and he never turned around. He laughed and yelled at the top of his lungs as the current carried him downstream, and we all swear to this day he was singing as the trailer floated around a bend in the river, the setting sun in our eyes. It was the last time we ever saw Eddie “Pile Driver” Jackson.

It got dark in a hurry, and cold too. We had fuel in the van, and it still ran, but we elected to ‘run silent’ and huddled up in the van ‘til morning. At daybreak we assessed the situation and concluded we could drive along the side of the ravine a few hundred yards and then get out onto the pasture grass. From there we could work our way on a diagonal back up to the road. It was agreed that we couldn’t keep going on the same road, so after we were traveling again, we took the first poorly traveled road East away from the river and drove for about an hour until we spotted some buildings off to our right. Dave guided the van off to the gate, keeping the speed down and dust to a minimum. Turns out there was no need for that; the buildings were abandoned, part of an old farm or ranch that had not been occupied for some time. The windmill was rusted and broken, the Ranch House collapsed, and the other four buildings in near or equal disrepair. Steve and Charlie had been conferring in the back of the van, and suddenly Charlie shouted – “Dave – pull the van into the barn and shut off the engine!” Dave spun the wheel and the van shot through the door opening. With the engine off, Paul started yelling at the top of his voice when Steve put his finger over his mouth, a signal to be quiet. That’s when the sound of the helicopter started getting louder. Everyone bailed out of the van and found a hole in the barn wall to look through – and we saw the Sheriff’s ‘copter hover over the complex of buildings for several minutes, spinning back and forth until it finally rose and disappeared back West.

In the hours that followed the four members of the Express came to agreement over several things …

1) The Band was done
2) We weren’t going to go back and face the music and possible lawsuits
3) We didn’t know what had happened to Eddie, and at this point could care less. He had started this whole mess – let him deal with it (assuming he survived the trip down the river)
4) We’d hole up here for one night and then the following night, under cover of darkness, we’d make our way back to the main road and civilization.
5) We were hungry
6) None of us were what you would call ‘survivalists.’ We had always preferred restaurants that had menus with numbers next to the selections … that was the extent of our hunting and gathering skills. We could always just pick a number and go with it.

Paul started rummaging around the van and found the exit gift packs that Dave had scooped up on his way out of the party. We were delighted to learn they had all the essentials we would need … mock batteries made of chocolate with the ActiveCell logo stamped on the side, company IPO announcements for the upcoming expansion and batteries … real batteries. There were batteries of every type made by ActiveCell. We ate chocolate – at least half of it, and then Charlie grabbed all the C cell batteries and loaded up the one DC powered amp with a fresh set. He plugged in a guitar with a loose cable and started to play. The sound was like a buzz saw a mile or more away, distorted and muddy. Dave said, “Same problem we had back at the party – the batteries aren’t wired into the amp correctly,” and he set about wiring additional batteries together in an arrangement using extra guitar strings laying on the floor of the van. As soon as he closed the circuit by attaching the last wire to the terminals on the amp, we knew there was a problem. The wire started to glow red-hot and then one of the smaller batteries burst, spewing hot debris onto the floor of the van and out onto the dry straw of the barn floor. In less than five seconds there was a huge whoosh, and the barn floor was burning all around us. We dove out the front driver door, kicking each other in the teeth while shouting obscenities and ran for the open door.

We watched in horror as the barn became engulfed in flames in a matter of a few minutes, and suddenly Steve said, “We can’t stay here. The smoke is sure to bring people here very soon!” We all spun around and started out towards the road when we heard the sound of engines over the rise in front of us. “Looks like we’re already having company,” Charlie said. We did an about face and headed for one of the other buildings. That’s when Dave saw the fruit cellar. The cellar’s door was slightly ajar, and we dashed down the stairs, prying the door open and pushing our way inside. It was dark and musty, cool and clammy. Steve pulled the door shut behind him and we began what was to be a long wait as more and more people showed up at the barn fire. There was no water since the windmill was long ago broken, so all the folks could do is stand back and watch the blaze. It went on for several hours, and after the sun had gone down and everyone was confident the blaze was out, we heard the last car pull away. We gave it another hour or more before we crawled out of the cellar and looked around. It was dark, but the stars and the moon gave us enough light to see the barn was gone, and so was the van. There wasn’t even a hulk of the body. The flames had been so intense that the van had quite literally melted.

There was nothing to do but wait for daybreak, and so back to the cellar we went. It was a long night – and one we had never expected we’d have to endure. The morning came and we discovered we had an unexpected source of food right in front of us … the fruit cellar. There were rows and rows of canned fruit in jars. There were peaches, plums, berries and a few that weren’t easily identified. It mattered not. We opened jar after jar and poured the fruit and juice down our throats. We were laughing and covered in sticky syrup – but we weren’t hungry anymore. The fruit tasted good and in a few minutes we were full and so we sat and started to figure out what to do next. We were somewhere in Montana with no vehicle, no money, no clothes except for the show costumes we had on and we had the law looking for us. There was no way to call anyone to come to our rescue. We were hosed. Screwed. S-O-L. The fact of the matter was, we had one choice, and that was to walk our way to civilization. To walk we would need food and water … and a map might be a real good idea. So, we loaded up jars of fruit, some jars that had what looked like jerky in them, and couple of empty jars into a small wooden crate we found at the back of the cellar. Dave said he thought he had a good idea which way it was to the main road, and extrapolating from that we figured a heading to take across the pastures of overgrown grass. It would be slow going, but at least we wouldn’t be on a road until we had some more distance between us and the fire pit we had made the day before.

We walked, changing positions in the single file line and trading off on carrying the wooden case until we came to a small creek. Here we filled the empty jars with water, took a short rest and carried on. It was getting dark, and our possibilities for shelter weren’t looking good when we suddenly spied a small shack about 3/4 of a mile ahead. We picked up the pace and discovered we had come upon an old pump house that had been used for well irrigation. The pump house was all but collapsed, but all the pieces were laying around on the ground. Next to the pump house was a shelter, probably one used for horses (in the old days) and the ATVs the farmers were now using to get around. We elected to make a lean-to out of the boards, and actually succeeded in making a rather good looking shed from the whole mess. There were enough boards left to close up the front of the shelter as well. We setup ‘camp’, pulled grass out, made some piles to sleep on and got ready to bunk down for the night. Dave pulled out the jars of jerky and fruit, and since we didn’t know how long the food had to last, we decided we’d empty the contents of one jar of each and call it good. We were so hungry we would have eaten bark, so we all dove into the jerky … washing it down with gulps of fruit and fruit syrup It was only after we’d all put down several chunks of jerky that Dave said … “Funny, I guess it’s been longer than I thought since I tasted meat! This hardly tastes like meat to me!” Dave had been a vegetarian through his entire tenure with The Express, a fact that Eddie used to use when introducing Dave during the shows. His intro of Dave used the word ‘meatless’ several times, and the innuendos didn’t go unnoticed by the crowd. I probably don’t have to tell you that this was a point of contention between the two of them. Anyway, Steve said, “Well, it tastes more like a root or dried up banana without the banana flavor.” That’s when Paul said – “Actually, I believe these are mushrooms.”

Twenty minutes later, in total darkness save the stars and the moon, Dave and Charlie were rolling around on the grass, acting like chimps. They were communicating in chimp talk, using chimp signs and walking like chimps. Their shrieking and chattering got louder and louder as Steve sat and laughed so hard he was in pain. Paul was staring at something in his hand, even though there was nothing in his hand and there wasn’t enough light to see it even if there were. Paul had definitely left the planet. This and other bizarre scenarios went on until Charlie and Dave tired of being chimps and began talking like British soldiers. “Right! Now then, what we have here is a man, staring at his hand! Now then, Leftennant!” And so they strutted back and forth with Steve muttering to himself and occasionally joining in. After about an hour of this, Paul suddenly returned to the planet, jumped up and in his finest British Commander’s Voice said – “Now then, what you have here is a shed! And what you have here is another shed! These sheds are all that’s left of her Majesty’s Army because of you, Leftennant Eddie “Pile Driver” Jackson.” We suddenly realized that Paul was hallucinating, because he was standing in front of a small tree, speaking to it as if it were actually Eddie Jackson. Steve started to go over to him, but the others encouraged him to let Paul be. Besides, it was quite entertaining now. Paul was standing ramrod straight, addressing the tree. “Now then, had you behaved like an soldier in Her Majesty’s Royal Army, none of this would have happened. We would have our supplies, our transportation, our dress uniforms and our dignity. We would still be CIVILIZED! But, what we have are these two sheds. Right! What we have here are Two Sheds, Jackson!”

For some time none of us could stop laughing. Paul proceeded to mercilessly assail the imaginary Lft. Jackson while he marched back and forth, occasionally whipping his thigh with a stick that served as a riding crop. Finally, Paul sat down and took another very close look at his hand, we all started to regain sanity lost from the tainted mushrooms. After a long quiet moment, Dave turned to Charlie and said, “Two Sheds Jackson! You know, that would make a great name for a band. Whaddaya think?


In the late summer of the early 1950s, my Uncle Skagg (who lived on ‘the wrong side of the tracks’) showed up drunk and proclaimed that I should learn to play the fiddle. I was living with my grandmother at the time, and she protested loudly at this, but that was nuthin’ compared to the noise I made over the next four days with that fiddle. I took great joy in sawing back and forth while imitating the fiddlers I saw on TV. I knew it didn’t sound quite right, but I didn’t think it was that bad. On Day Five, the fiddle disappeared.

A few weeks later, at the beginning of fourth grade, my grandmother proclaimed that I was going to learn to play a proper musical instrument, since she knew I had been bummed for days at the loss of my fiddle. I was pretty sure that meant I would play the saxophone. I liked the saxophone because everyone who played it always did so with their eyes closed, and their faces were scrunched up in all sorts of expressive ways. Sometimes they looked like they were about to give birth, or maybe they were trying real hard to hold something back. The other neat thing about the saxophone was that it came with a strap. My chin was just starting to get back to normal from only four days with a fiddle, so I was pretty sure that the saxophone was the way to go.

The band teacher looked at me and proclaimed (there seemed to be an excess of proclamations in those days) that I would never have enough WIND to fill the saxophone (if only he knew how much wind I have) and I lacked something that was very necessary if you were going to play the saxophone, which I thought he said was an Arm Brochure. This made no sense to me. The saxophone came with a neck strap. Or, perhaps that was an option. And, I was pretty sure that an Arm Brochure was something that cost money, which was in short supply around grandma’s house. They were most likely bound with leather and required several weeks of breaking in. In any case, the teacher said I should play the Cornet.

I was immediately bummed. This little thing had no neck strap, nothing to bite on, and you had to look over the top of it to see anything while you held your arms out to the side in ‘proper playing position.’ AND, there were only three buttons, a paltry few when compared to the dozens on the saxophone.

HOWEVER, I did learn in just a few days that I could play this mother really loud. Really, really loud! This produced something called a mute, which made the horn harder to play, made it sound like it was coming out of the end of a doggie squeaky toy, and in general lowered the overall enjoyment of playing really loud. The mute was a gift from grandpa. I was allowed to play the horn un-muted outside for a few minutes a day on the front porch, but only for about three days. There was some sort of ‘conversation’ between grandma and her neighbors on both sides, and it was then ‘suggested’ that the really good musicians practiced in private. Grandpa suggested I could play in the woodshed. Years later I came to understand that all us suffering artists had gone through similar experiences, as my fellow musicians talked constantly about ‘woodshedding.’

Well, I took to this horn and played it as much as I could. It was my companion when I needed to just ‘think’ …. And it was all good except for the times when I was ordered to perform for guests. The first time I held back, but the second time I didn’t even wait to be asked and so I blew Mr. Peterson’s hearing aid up when I marched into the room playing my version of ‘Oh Susanna’ … un-muted. I guess I didn’t play all that well ‘cause I was sent to my room. Maybe it was my arrangement.

The cornet stayed with me over the years as I worked my way through the grades at various elementary schools. It was fun to play, and I got real good at it. I played in Marching Bands all the time and could keep up with kids two or three grades ahead of me. I did find myself studying under one retard music teacher who insisted I go back and learn to play the Flutophone so I could play music with the other kids in my age group. Luckily my dad got fired from work before I had been at that school too long, and I left the little plastic toy in my desk as we hit the road.

By the time I landed in Junior High I was fortunate enough to be able to play in a great music program with a super Band Teacher, and I excelled at music. I was the band librarian and band president, so I spent a lot of time in the band room alone during study period. This was when I discovered the stereophonic record, the dual twenty-watt tube amplifier and headphones, indeed a potent combination. I started out listening to Dave Brubeck, but eventually slipped on a rock and roll record. No, I didn’t fall on the record, I meant to say I surreptitiously put it on the turntable when no one was looking. The band teacher was not there and I had the tubes glowing on the amp when I saw the door open. It was Jack – the band teacher who had forbade me to play anything except classical music, jazz and marches on his stereo system. In my haste to get to the console to turn it off, I accidentally unplugged the headphones and the speaker system came on at full power for …. Oh ….. one or two seconds. There was a kind of frazzling sound as the music just faded away into silence. I had blown up my first set of speakers. The headphones disappeared and I had to figure out how to come up with the money to fix these things. THE IMPORTANT THING WAS THIS … I HAD HEARD ROCK AND ROLL MUSIC AND HEARD IT AT A HIGH VOLUME.

The Cornet became a trumpet, and the trumpet became a guitar when the band I was playing with said they wanted to do songs with two guitars. They tried to kick me out, but I leveraged my strengths, reminding them that I was the only one who knew how to setup the PA and load the truck – and based on that I was given four weeks to learn to play the guitar. Piece of Cake – just don’t do anymore than the five chords I knew and we were good. It was during this early period that I discovered the guitar could actually be played with only one or two notes sounding. It hurt much less and I could be a little more creative. When reminded I was supposed to be playing chords, I replied that this was my ‘style.’

Something else happened around that time. I discovered that size matters – and that bigger amps play louder! And I discovered how to make the guitar feed back. It didn’t matter that others like the Yardbirds had done it first. It was cool and I loved it. I became a guitar junkie and experimented with sounds as much as possible, changing amplifiers, cutting holes in the back of the cabinets, plugging up the backs of the cabinets, changing the settings and keeping a meticulous record of which settings made which sounds. I graduated to an endless string of tape echoe machines, distortion boxes, wah wah pedals, fuzztones, more wah wah pedals and my favorite – plugging amplifier outputs into amplifier inputs. This had to be done carefully – but with my keen sense of when it was just enough I managed to create some awesome sounds. I also burned up a couple of amps – but hey, you’re gonna get that. Did I mention, doing this made the amplifiers get really loud! To this human, there is nothing quite like the power of one very loud guitar and the open Power A Chord.

There are two things about the guitar that I really like. When you have one of these things strapped on, you are always the same person looking out. Age be damned, social status be damned, good looking or not so much … I am playing the guitar here – and you’re not. If someone happens to get too close to you, you simply press the third button from the left on this week’s version of a pedalboard, and everyone in a thirty-foot radius dives for cover. The other thing is that you don’t have to DANCE. You can sway, dip, stand up, stoop over, and in some cases rotate right to left and back …. but you are never dancing. That would be the job assigned to the folks on the dance floor. And dancing should not be confused with STEPS .. the group motion you worked out when you wanted to emulate James Brown’s Band. Steps were cool for a while and I was a little down when the new bands declared STEPS were un-cool. I loved doing the steps, probably because they reminded me of my early years of playing “El Capitan” while marching through the streets of AnyTown, USA, without the horse poop.


In the beginning, there was music. And sometime (actually quite a bit of time) later, Steve said, “It is good.” And good it is.

Growing up singing, accordion was the odd first choice of instrument for Steve. He readily admits, however, that it was a crazy Scandinavian who had a local kid’s TV show (KING’s Clubhouse starring Stan Boreson), who sucked him in (so to speak). But it wasn’t long before Steve realized that the accordion wasn’t exactly a babe magnet – playing guitar was the way to go.

Since that fateful decision, Steve’s musical career has taken him all the way - from playing teen dances at Catholic churches, to playing for dances at his Jr. High School. And oh yes, there were illustrious tours of Southeast Alaska and Central Oregon, and an occasional foray to Eastern Washington. Over the years, the people he has touched have testified (under oath) that they will never be the same……..

As for his stellar, lifetime career with the band that became Two Sheds Jackson, in Steve’s own words: “Giving up the accordion was the best move I ever made.”


Having started out many decades ago with nothing more than a broomstick, a rusty bucket and an old piece of string stolen from his Aunt Mabel’s potting shed (you see, sheds have always played an important part in his music career), Paul has progressed mightily over the years and you will now often find him with all 6 strings on his guitar when Two Sheds Jackson performs.

After moving out of the woodshed at an early age (see, again with the sheds!) Paul began performing at local dances, wedding receptions, bar mitzvahs, the odd senior center, wherever his musical desires took him. Finally settling on good old rock and roll, Paul’s big break came and he was signed to a major record label and embarked on a world tour spanning Oregon, Idaho, Wyoming, Both North and South Dakota, and the Eastern half of his home state, Washington. Disillusioned upon his return from that grueling two-week world tour, Paul gave up music completely and settled for a more normal life devoid of the broken down vans, toothless, one-legged groupies, unshowered band mates, and steady diet of Top Ramen of his past. No, only real food from grocery stores and restaurants from now on for Paul!

And so it was for many years. That is until the boys in The Sunshine Express came a callin’. Something about this particular band stirred some of those long-forgotten childhood memories and Paul joined the band not long before the now infamous ActiveCell battery performance. When the band settled on their new name, Two Sheds Jackson, it all became clear to him why he was destined to be in the band. And the future as they say, will soon be history!


Dave’s early life is shrouded in mystery. We only know that he was raised by nomadic yak herders on the high plains of Nepal until the age of eight, at which time he was discovered by a team of Irish mountaineers returning from summiting Mt. Everest. Some speculate he was abandoned there by an unwed British Foreign Service agent. Others suggest he was the sole survivor of the tragic crash of a small plane. We will never know for sure. What we do know is that the Irish claimed him as one of their own and, after negotiating a trade involving 5 transistor radios, a case of cocoa, a framed portrait of the Queen and several boxes of dried peaches, Dave found himself surrounded by burly outdoorsmen who spoke a language his couldn’t understand but which was somehow strangely familiar, flying to his new home in Ireland.

Adopted into a family in rural Ireland, Dave felt immediately at home tending the cows and sheep which the family raised. The family’s small house also brought a sense of comfort, being not too much bigger than the yak-hide yurt he had lived in back in Nepal. His early exposure to the rhythmic speech of the nomads left him well prepared to take up the study of the bodhran, or Irish drum. He had a knack for drumming and so soon found himself touring the countryside with the popular traditional band “Tin Pony”, playing pubs and festivals throughout the British Isles. It was on one such tour that Dave heard the music which would change his life forever. It was the Beatles’ “I want to hold your hand” on BBC radio. On the spot he gave up his beloved bodhran and vowed to learn how to make that fabulous noise.

The bodhran, traditional and reserved, could be practiced in the common room of the family home. Not so the drum kit. Dave soon found himself in a potting shed out across the field. Far enough away from the main house that his distraught family would not be disturbed by his nearly round-the-clock flailing, pounding exploration of his new passion. After two years of practice, stopping only for food and sleep, Dave put an ad in the local newspaper looking for compatible band mates with whom he could explore this wonderful new musical world. This being the late 1960s, he soon hooked up with a group of broad-minded lads willing to play an experimental mix of traditional Irish ballads, new rock & roll, and folk tunes from Nepal. The called themselves “Electric Dog Whistle”. Their fame grew quickly – some say too quickly. A tour of The States was arranged in support of their hastily recorded debut album “Can You Hear This?!”. Three months of total debauchery later, the band returned home minus their young drummer.

Green card in hand, Dave began a decade of exploration. Music was his passion, his reason for being, his love. (Well, there was that girl from Idaho…) We don’t have the time or space here to list the dozens of bands and artists he played with over the years, or the hundreds of recorded songs his always powerful and tasty drumming has graced. Suffice it to say, his diverse experience prepared him well for the meeting that would profoundly change his life once again - the fateful meeting with the group of musicians who would eventually come to be known as “Two Sheds Jackson”. The rest, as they say, is history…..

Set List

Shaky Ground
This Train
Custard Pie
Up The Road
Inner City Blues
Divin' Duck
If I Don't Get Home
Leavin' Trunk
Have Love É
People Get Ready
Help Me Baby
I've Got News
You Don't Love Me
Slippin and Slidin'
The Hunter
Baby It's You
I'm A Crim'nal
I Shot The Sheriff
Marry You
I'm Down
The Sky is Fallin'
Put it Right Back
Come Together
Mary Had a Little Lamb
Roll Over Beethoven
Pretty Woman
Couldn't Get it Right
Steppin' Stone
Stuck in the Middle
Congo Square
Switchboard Susan
Love Love Love You
Good Time
Hootchie Kootchie Man
Bet It All On You
Shape I'm In
Treat Her Right
Just Got Paid
Mighty Trains
Road to Dead
Slow Down
I Don't Believe
Ready for Love
Give Me Some More
Tore Down
Dirty Dogs and Funky Kings
Before You 'Cuse Me
My Way Down
Crosscut Saw