Schecky's Jam Bands

What do you get when a Burlington, Vermont jam quartet names themselves after a biblical man thrown into a fiery furnace, records their best album at Trey Anastasio's personal studio, and describes their own band as "an app running in the background of your phone that never fully closes"? You get RAQ — one of the most technically ferocious and consistently surprising acts the Northeast jam scene has ever produced, and a band that Relix Magazine called capable of "dropping jaws with hyperkinetic improvisational splendor."

In this episode, Schecky traces how RAQ went from Shadraq to a Jammy Award nomination, from Burlington clubs to Bonnaroo and High Sierra, from a 2007 hiatus to periodic returns that fans describe as being like finding a four-leaf clover. We dig into the full story of recording Ton These at Trey Anastasio's Barn in Vermont, break down what makes RAQ's three-album catalog the right entry point for new listeners — starting with Carbohydrates Are the Enemy and any live recording from their legendary Schubas run — and make the case for why this is the band you need to catch the next time the app opens.

Subscribe, drop a comment telling us your most memorable RAQ show or the first time their "ultra-loose and infectious" live energy got you, and share this episode with any prog-rock or jam fan who hasn't yet found their new favorite Burlington quartet.

What happens when a Long Island funk-rock trio plays over 200 shows a year, releases five albums in five years, headlines Woodstock's own Yasgur Farm, and builds their own festival as a tribute to the fan who believed in them before anyone else did? You get Baked Shrimp — the hardest-working band in the jam scene and Long Island's best kept secret that simply can no longer be kept.

In this episode, Schecky tells the full story of how nineteen-year-old Jared Cowen turned a one-night bass gig into a permanent power trio, how the mysteriously undocumented name Baked Shrimp somehow became the most memorable three words on any festival lineup, and how the passing of their most loyal supporter and ambassador Lon "Conscious" Gellman inspired a festival, an album, and a community built on the Woodstock grounds in his honor. We break down why Chop Suey from their Spotify-playlisted self-titled album is the one song every new listener needs, and dig into the LonCon story — from a virtual fundraiser that raised money for the White Light Foundation to headlining Yasgur Farm alongside Dogs in a Pile, lespecial, and members of Goose, the Disco Biscuits, and the Trey Anastasio Band.

Subscribe, drop a comment telling us your first Baked Shrimp show or your LonCon memory, and share this episode with any jam fan on the East Coast who still hasn't found their new favorite hardest-working band.

:How does a band from Louisville, Kentucky become famous in the Netherlands before anyone in America knows their name — and how does a burned-down bar, a stripper's robe, and an abandoned grain silo on a soybean farm produce one of the most distinctive vocal sounds in modern rock? That's the My Morning Jacket origin story, and it only gets wilder from there.

In this episode, Schecky traces how Jim James went from singing into an empty grain silo for natural reverb to playing four hours in the rain at Bonnaroo — including a set of thirty-five songs where Kirk Hammett of Metallica walked out of the darkness at three in the morning to play guitar with them in front of 80,000 people who refused to leave. We break down why One Big Holiday is the one song every new listener needs, dig into the multiple wildly inconsistent stories behind the band name, and make the case for why NPR's description — "the jam band for people who don't like jam bands" — is both the most accurate and most revealing label ever applied to My Morning Jacket.

Subscribe, drop a comment telling us your most memorable MMJ live moment or the first time that grain silo reverb hit you the way it's supposed to, and share this episode with any rock fan who thinks they've already found all the bands worth caring about.

What do you get when a piano prodigy from suburban Chicago absorbs Dr. John, Allen Toussaint, and the Meters as a kid, tours Europe with Muddy Waters' son at eighteen, survives addiction, records a debut album in a potentially haunted Chicago church — and then has Bob Lefsetz declare in all capital letters "THIS IS THE FUTURE OF THE MUSIC BUSINESS"? You get Neal Francis, the most exciting piano-driven soul and funk artist working today, and this episode is your introduction.

In this episode, Schecky traces how Neal Francis O'Hara went from boogie-woogie lessons at twelve under Chicago blues legend Erwin Helfer to headlining Thalia Hall with an 11-piece band in custom jumpsuits, recording live to analog tape on an album cheekily titled Francis Comes Alive. We break down why Changes is the one song every new listener needs, dig into the full story of the haunted church recording sessions and the sobriety that made them possible, and reveal how his artist name was chosen partly because his girlfriend said it sounded sexiest — with a co-sign from David Shaw of the Revivalists for good measure.

Subscribe, drop a comment telling us the first Neal Francis song that stopped you cold, and share this episode with any soul, funk, or jam fan who needs a piano player in their life that plays like the instrument owes them something.

What do you get when a kid learns harmonica from watching John Belushi in The Blues Brothers, names his band after a Ghostbusters villain, gets a sign from a black cat after a three-hour jam session, and goes on to play Woodstock for 350,000 people and win a Grammy? You get Blues Traveler — one of the founding pillars of the entire jam band revival, and one of the most unlikely success stories in American rock history.

In this episode, Schecky traces how John Popper, Chan Kinchla, Brendan Hill, and Bobby Sheehan went from playing Princeton High School parties to co-founding the H.O.R.D.E. festival alongside Phish, Widespread Panic, and Spin Doctors — and how Bill Graham put them on a bill with the Allman Brothers before they even had an album. We break down why Run-Around is the perfect entry point, relive the Woodstock 1994 set that converted 350,000 people who came for someone else, and tell the full story of a band that played shows from a wheelchair after a motorcycle accident and still went quintuple platinum a year later.

Subscribe, drop a comment telling us your first Blues Traveler memory or the Letterman performance that got you — and share this episode with any jam fan who needs to understand where the whole 1990s jam revival actually started.

What if the side project of the frontman of Phish wasn't really a side project at all — but the laboratory where Phish's best songs were invented, road-tested, and perfected before Phish ever heard them? That's the Trey Anastasio Band story, and it starts with actual eight-foot glowing fluorescent tubes being waved by dancers on stage at a benefit concert for a brother-in-law's nightclub in Burlington, Vermont.

In this episode, Schecky finally gives TAB its own episode after referencing Trey in nearly every corner of this podcast — tracing how a chance encounter with bassist Tony Markellis led to the creation of First Tube, Sand, and Gotta Jibboo in a single Burlington rehearsal, how Jennifer Hartswick joined the band fresh out of high school and became one of the most respected horn players in the jam world, and why the eight-piece groove machine that TAB became is the connective tissue binding together the entire Schecky's Jam Bands universe. We break down why Gotta Jibboo is the one song every new listener needs and make the case for why a TAB show might be the most unique live music experience in the jam world — because you could be hearing the next Phish song before Phish has played it yet.

Subscribe, drop a comment telling us your favorite TAB show or the TAB song you were surprised to later hear become a Phish staple, and share this episode with any Phish fan who hasn't yet made the leap to the band that feeds the mother ship.

What do you call a band that invented an entire genre called Polyethnic Cajun Slamgrass, named themselves on a car ride to a ski town gig because half their band didn't want to make the drive — and then inspired so many artists that Billy Strings himself told founding mandolinist Drew Emmitt "you're my other son"? You call them Leftover Salmon, the Rolling Stones of jamgrass and the accidental architects of everything Colorado jam music became.

In this episode, Schecky traces how Vince Herman drove from West Virginia to Boulder in search of a mythical bluegrass scene, walked into a bar and met Drew Emmitt on his very first night in town, and thirty-five-plus years later stood in the Colorado Music Hall of Fame alongside String Cheese Incident and Yonder Mountain String Band — the two bands that Leftover Salmon directly inspired. We break down why High Country is the one song every new listener needs, tell the full story of Mark Vann's death and the three-legged stool that wobbled for a decade before Andy Thorn walked in and re-lit the spark, and make the case for why no serious jam or bluegrass fan can call their education complete without Leftover Salmon in it.

Subscribe, drop a comment telling us your first Leftover Salmon show or the moment Slamgrass made sense to you, and share this episode with any bluegrass or jam fan who needs to know where all of this actually started.

What do you call a band that describes themselves as "a slow, hard-working, non-glorious animal" — and then responds to the death of their founding bassist by calling in Jack Bruce, John Entwistle, Flea, Les Claypool, Phil Lesh, and Jason Newsted to record a tribute so massive it took two albums to contain? You call them Gov't Mule, and this is the story of the most extraordinary act of collective grief in the history of Southern rock.

In this episode, Schecky traces how Warren Haynes and Allen Woody left the Allman Brothers to build a power trio in the Cream tradition — rehearsing at the Big House in Macon, releasing their debut in 1995, and going full time in 1997 — before Woody's sudden death in August 2000 sent the band into the studio to make The Deep End, one of the most ambitious tribute projects rock music has ever produced. We break down why Soulshine is the one song every new listener needs, dig into the full Deep End story and Mike Gordon's Rising Low documentary, and make the case for why Gov't Mule — thirty years in and still kicking — is one of the last truly great working bands in American rock.

Subscribe, drop a comment telling us your most powerful Gov't Mule live memory or the first time Soulshine hit you the way it's supposed to, and share this episode with any Southern rock or jam fan who needs this band in their life right now.

What do you call a kid from Cheyenne, Wyoming who finds the blues at sixteen, gets called up to tour with Otis Taylor at eighteen, ends up on stage with Warren Haynes of the Allman Brothers — and then goes home to Denver and invents a genre called Mountain Funk? You call him Taylor Scott, and this episode is long overdue.

In this episode, Schecky traces how Taylor Scott Band built one of the most distinctive sounds in the American roots-rock world — absorbing Los Lobos, Warren Haynes, and old-school blues into a hybrid of funk, soul, and wide-open Western guitar that nobody else is making quite like this. We break down why Curiosity is the one song that hooks every new listener in under four minutes, dig into the legendary Briggs Farm Blues Festival performance where a Glide Magazine reviewer called it "the funkiest music ever heard on the farm," and reveal how the band's entire philosophy was set in two words the day keyboardist Jon Wirtz walked in: shut up and play.

Subscribe, drop a comment telling us where you first caught Taylor Scott Band live or which song made you a Mountain Funk believer, and share this episode with any blues or jam fan who needs a new favorite band from Denver in their life immediately.

What do you call a band that named themselves after a taco shop inside joke, recorded their debut album in a barn in New Hampshire, and eleven years later headlined Madison Square Garden for four hours — with Trey Anastasio staying for the entire third set at Radio City Music Hall along the way? You call them Goose, Connecticut's most improbable world conquest, and this is the episode where we break down exactly how they pulled it off.

In this episode, Schecky traces the full Goose arc — from the quietest kid in Berklee's Fusion Ensemble Level 6 class to selling out Radio City, from fifteen kids in a Kentucky club who knew all the words to Trey Anastasio's gear being spotted on 6th Avenue and the internet losing its mind. We break down why Arcadia is the one song every new listener needs, go deep on the legendary June 25, 2022 Radio City show where Goose and Trey played Hungersite into Arcadia into Dripfield into Empress of Organos for a sold-out crowd that didn't want the night to end, and reveal the time they performed with Animal — the Muppet — at Newport Folk Festival.

Subscribe, drop a comment telling us the first Goose show that made you a believer or the one you're dying to catch next, and share this episode with anyone who still thinks jam bands can't also have the best hooks in any room they walk into.