Introduction:
As showtime draws near—just under an hour away—the band stands backstage buzzing with the kind of excitement only decades of history can create. This performance isn’t just another concert; it’s a celebration of forty years since they first arrived in the Myrtle Beach and Grand Strand area, a place that shaped them long before success ever did. “We still don’t know what we’re doing,” one member jokes, “and tonight you’ll see we’ve forgotten most of what we did know.” The laughter comes easy, carried by a nostalgia that has aged as gracefully as their music.
Outside the venue, they met a woman who first saw them perform in 1979—but she isn’t unique. “There are probably people here who saw us in ’73,” they say. Back then, their records were played on every type of radio station across the Carolinas—rock, country, R&B—and the locals embraced them long before national audiences ever knew their names. Myrtle Beach didn’t just host their early performances; it held their earliest believers.
The stories come quickly—funny, chaotic, and distinctly youthful. They laugh about the days when the club still had Go-Go girls (“By the time we got here, they were wiwi girls,” one member teases). They remember sneaking out the window of the men’s bathroom during a slow night, wandering to Peach’s Corner for milkshakes, then strolling back through the front door as if nothing happened. Peach’s, they note, is one of the only landmarks that still stands from their earliest years. Much of the old Myrtle Beach—Holland House, the Chug Wagon, the Pavilion, the Air Force Base—is gone now, replaced by the tide of progress. But the memories, rich and unruly, remain untouched.
Their bond, too, has endured. Together since 1969, they attribute their longevity to friendship, patience, and the ability to let go. “If you can’t remember what you were arguing about 30 minutes later,” one member says, “then you can go right back to laughing.” They reminisce about $0.75 beers, TJ Swan wine, and the club’s no-nonsense security guard who made sure no one staggered out the front door. “We never got locked up,” they insist—though a few friends weren’t so lucky.
When asked about their favorite songs to perform, they laugh again. They love them all, but especially the early hits—Mountain Music, Lady, Tennessee River—many of which were written right here in Myrtle Beach. One of their funniest memories comes from the night they first performed Tennessee River. A woman approached the stage afterward and told them it was “the worst damn song” she’d ever heard. It later became their first number-one hit.
Looking ahead, they hope to keep returning to Myrtle Beach every few years, as long as they have the strength. “This is where it started,” they say. “This little stage, these people—this was the first place that believed in us.” And after all these years, the gratitude in their voices is unmistakable.