The Swashbuckling Doctors

World-Reggae-Latin
Ska Punk Party

It’s been an adventurous year for your Swashbuckling Doctors.  Heroic, even. Homeric in scale, Beckettian in futility, Michael-Bay-ian in explosiveness.  All three conceits neatly wrapped up in our drummer’s station wagon. Picture the scene with me. There it still sits in my mind’s eye, majestic in its golden impotentness, a faint wisp of smoke curling delicately from its radiator into the clear mountain air, silent, still, waiting.  Calm. And the entire Swashbuckling Doctors backline standing proud and forlorn on the side of the road, living statuesque monuments of the last outpost of ska, scanning the horizon for that 4th wave they all said would come. Would that you could have seen them.

Did they panic? Even though the show was to start 100 miles away in 2 hours?  Even though the phone reception in South Park could charitably be considered “no bars”? Even though the nearest restaurant, “Pizza’s Subs”, served neither Pizza nor Subs? (Seriously we will get to the bottom of this someday). Did they panic? No. They knew help would come. Because no Doc is left behind. Though sometimes a station wagon is left behind.  We got them to the show, which was a good thing, because if any town needed a hero that night, it was Salida. We saved them. And we can do the same for you, dear reader.

If you’re looking for a hero you can stop looking, because we’re silly with heroes. And you may think of us as your local purveyors of ska-punk excitement, but we’re more than that. If you’re looking for a reason to order a coffee after 6, you can stop looking.  If you’re looking for a reason to wear white shoes after Labor Day, we can provide guidance. If you’re looking for five, six, even seven cities of gold, you have already arrived. The golden riches you seek come from the skanking back beats and the delicious rhyming treats of the one, the only, The Swashbuckling Doctors. Come enjoy the splendor. And can someone give Jackson a ride to go get his car?