A year and a half ago, the Brothers Comatose were playing for free beer.

Right now, they’re somewhere between the Bay and the mountains of Northern Idaho—guitars, banjo, mandolin, stand-up bass, and foot-stomper packed into their newly-acquired vehicle, a red 1988 Chevy g-20 conversion van with a CB radio. There are probably tambourines and beer bottles rolling across the floor.

If experience is any indication, it’s going to be a long road.

A day after the rapturous release of their debut record, Songs From the Stoop, at Café Du Nord, the Brothers Comatose played a sold-out show with their good friends, Sourgrass, in Santa Cruz.

Screams. Tambourines. Chopsticks tapping against broken beer bottles. An inflatable alligator knocking around like a beach ball. That old-timey sound replete with three-part harmonies that would make the Kingston Trio cry. This is the kind of atmosphere you get at a Comatose show.

A lot of friends had come out to support, and around 3am, after a round of drop-offs around Santa Cruz, the Brothers got the van pointed north.

Mandolin player and swordsman Joe Pacini picks up the story from there. “Coming up over [Highway] 17 there’s a cop pulled over on the side of the road, so Phil, our fiddle player, who was driving, went over into the other lane.”

Joe pauses, and explains, “I mean, we had pre-partied in the van, so there was definitely odors, and empty bottles and things rolling around. Didn’t have insurance. Phil doesn’t have a Cali ID. People passed out. Everyone’s drunk, except for Phil, who was sober. So we get pulled over, ‘cause [Phil] swerved into the other lane, cut off the guy who was in his blind spot. I think the first thing Phil said [to the cop] was, ‘Yea, so, I’m in a band.’”

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