Amy Farris would have turned 41 today. We still don’t know the details of how she passed, and aren’t in a hurry to find out. Our angels and demons wait in the shadows to escort us all. We hope Amy’s already jamming with Eck Robertson or Chubby Wise, or in Stravinsky’s orchestra. We loved you and we love you, Amy.Amy did dozens of shows with us, when Brantley couldn’t make it, and sometimes when he could, and the two of them would grin at each other over twin fiddle lines and their own common ground of subtly subverting a familiar phrase. We never rehearsed with Amy–well maybe once when we first met. She was quick and fearless and always dug in. Never did she not sing her heart out.
Our fondest memories are the nights in the back room at Coles Bar, 6th and Main downtown, where for three years we hosted a weekly acoustic series, a combination music lab and bacchanal, with 9% Chimay and whiskey opening the doors of perception for the bands and the audiences packed at our feet.
Here’s Amy and the Hawks from a night at Coles, probably 2005–lo fi, ragged, careening, and a good time was had by all:
Pretty Dresses: Download file
Grapevine: Download file
She’s More To Be Pitied: Download file
See you on the other side, sweet sister. And yes, we often did “Pretty Dresses”
when you weren’t there.
Photos by Alyssa Archambault; Coles Bar photo montage by Mark Lowrie