REVIEW: “Let’s Rock and Roll, Motherfuckers!” Deer Tick and Drive-By Truckers at Arrowood Farms
07/26 @ Arrowood Farms, Accord
Photos by Debi Gustafson
“Of course there’d be chickens here, casually vibing while the two bands fucking shred. That’s the kind of place Arrowood is. It blends the wild and the ordinary until they’re the same thing.”
Deer Tick and Drive-By Truckers in the middle of summer at a brewery in the Hudson Valley? I didn’t need much more convincing. I’d never been to Arrowood Farms before, but I’d heard good things. What I didn’t expect was to walk into one of the best live music setups I’d ever seen. Outdoors and fully dialed-in, with chickens roaming around near the stage like they had somewhere to be.
The place was packed by the time I arrived. People on blankets, people dancing, people drinking. Food tents lined up with everything from oysters and lobster rolls to noodles, grilled cheese, and pizza. Even the porta-potties had legit hand-washing stations with soap and water. Arrowood feels like a venue run by people who’ve actually been to shows. People who know what live music fans want and need.
Deer Tick kicked things off strong. Gritty, tight, and loud in all the right ways. Just sound, played well. All old-school confidence, no filler. But also?
They were so much fucking fun.
They were loose and a little chaotic in the best possible way. One minute, they were tearing through a song as if they had something to prove; the next, they were goofing around, making jokes, and throwing in goofy harmonies just because they could. They didn’t try to be polished or perfect; they were unapologetically themselves.
And the crowd loved them for it.
Between sets, I sat at a table and ended up next to a super friendly Eugene from the Eugene Tyler Band, a well-loved bluegrass group from the Hudson Valley.
I asked if he’d been to Arrowood before. “Nope, first time,” he said. Then, we both started raving.
“I mean, this place is unreal,” he said. “Reminds me of being a little kid when you were just running around ‘til the sun came down.” I couldn’t have agreed more. The open space and sense of community, with everybody drinking, smiling, laughing, and just having a good time outside, really evoked a sort of childlike wonder that’s hard to come by.
He grinned as he told me about the times that he’s seen both Deer Tick and Drive-By Truckers in the past. “You ever seen DBT? Rock and roll, man! And it’s outdoor rock and roll, even better.”
“And Deer Tick,” he started. “They were so engaging and fun,” Eugene said, “but it was also so tight. That’s hard to pull off.”
Then the Truckers came out and performed as if they’d heard what Eugene said and wanted to prove him right. They’ve got that blend of Southern rock and alt-country that hits right when it’s live. Loud guitars, lyrics that cut, and no one trying too hard. “Let’s rock and roll, motherfuckers!” frontman Mike Cooley shouted from the stage, and the whole place lit up.
As they played, the sun went down and the sky shifted into that pink-and-orange haze that only happens in July. It cooled off just enough to feel good, and everything started to feel somewhat unreal.
Even as I wandered, the music didn’t fade. No matter where you are at Arrowood, you can see the stage and hear everything clearly. As I explored, I had my first lobster roll from a tent called Oyster Party. Grilled brioche, fresh Maine lobster, seasoned perfectly.
I then wandered into a vendor tent called Medicine Garden, run by an artist named Ustya. She sells handmade clothes, accessories, and things she picks up on her travels. Earthy, colorful, gorgeous pieces. She was kind, easy to talk to, and told me she’s a regular at Arrowood. That tracked. The whole place felt that way, community-built and full of people who give a shit.
The chickens hung out near the stage all night, chasing each other around and pecking at nothing. They were part of it. Every time I looked over, they were still there, roaming like they had backstage access, totally unbothered by the noise. Kids came over to watch them; adults too. People pointed, laughed, and kept drinking. It didn’t feel out of place; somehow, it just made sense. Like, of course there’d be chickens here, casually vibing while the two bands fucking shredded. That’s the kind of place Arrowood is. It blends the wild and the ordinary until they’re the same thing.
It’s tempting to call a night like this perfect, but I don’t have a better word for it. The music was steady and alive, exactly how it needed to be. People were tuned in; not on their phones, not just killing time. They danced, they yelled, they sang along. The food was delicious, the beer was cold, the air felt good, and the vibes were right.
And yeah, porta-potties with real soap? A food stand with fresh seafood? That definitely didn’t hurt.
And a bunch of weird little chickens didn’t hurt either.
