"We were pretty much the odd band out, as far as we weren't a heavy metal-ish group," said Davies of the 104.9 FM-sponsored concert cruise--on a two deck, two bar, 400-capacity Argosy ship. "We shared the stage with Hog Molly, and Gravity Check and Healer was upstairs.

"We started within 5 minutes of leaving the dock," the shouter/saxophonist continued. "The place just kind of erupted at that point, the boat started shaking, and the band was almost falling down. Everything was rolling, we hit rough seas and you couldn't find your footing...it felt like we drunker than we actually were.

I ventured that the ship's crew must have been uneasy.

"The crew was terrified," corrected tall-and-lanky Davies, "because it was 4/20, Stoner's Holiday--they actually made an announcement over the PA about federal offenses on the water."

Stockily-built Swayze, who looks more like a beer truck driver than the Gretsch/Gibson man that he is, chimed in, "No one was there to cause problems, and security was expecting trouble--they were everywhere. We left from Pier 55, and for two-and-a-half hours, we just circled the harbor.

"I think they didn't want to get too far from the dock, in case bedlam broke out," he asserted, beckoning for another pitcher.

Unless you're a legislator, a high-priced call girl, or an aspiring hippie with a "VW scholarship" to Evergreen State College, there isn't a whole hell of a lot to do in picturesque Olympia, WA--except to drink a lot, race cars in the abundant backwoods, or, if you have any musical leanings, play in an indie-rock band. All three of the latter occupations consume most of the Dirty Birds' time. Formed by Davies and Swayze, both Evergreen graduates (they fit in there like two Hell's Angels at a love-in), and the ace rhythm section of drummer Mike Trobman and bassist Brian Bononi, the Birds have spent the last six years cementing their status as Oly's ambassadors of hell-raising rock 'n' roll. Ironically, it's been the band's loyalty to their beloved Olympia, and to their brand of rock--a smoldering stew of the '60s "Tacoma sound," '70s blues-tinged rock, and '80s punk--that has led to their reputation as overlooked underdogs. Playing rock that is so old school based that it's cutting-edge, in the trendy Jet City's shadow, the group has cast themselves in modern-day molds of influences like the Sonics and the early Wailers--bands that had to wait 25 years to receive the recognition that they deserved.

"Olympia a strange place, it's kind of lonely and isolated down there," says Swayze, whose intelligence belies his Luke Duke lifestyle. Addressing the group's odd, high-octane signature, he adds, "I'm not going to typecast myself into a certain style of music, I'm going to play what feels natural--regardless of what's 'cool' at the time."

Davies, who was approaching his 31st birthday, chimes in, "We're incorporating more pure rock...we used to lean more towards rockabilly and surf sounds, but now we're getting back to what got us into rock in the first place--AC/DC, Van Halen, Deep Purple, all that stuff hits you right in the balls."

"My roots are more in the '70s--Grand Funk, early ZZ Top--overdriven blues rock," agrees Swayze. "There was an emphasis (at the time) in putting on a show, and that's what we've always been about."

Anyone who has witnessed a Dirty Birds set would wholeheartedly agree with the axeman's assessment. Mixing mosh-stirring mayhem with jaw-dropping musicianship, a Birds' live performance jolts the most staid of audiences into action--think of the early Chili Peppers, George Thorogood and the Delaware Destroyers, and Duane Eddy's band all in a rock 'n' roll circle jerk onstage with an unlimited supply of booze, electricity and amyl nitrate.

Though it confounds critics and confuses purists, the Dirty Birds' sonic diversity definitely stands out amongst their Northwest peers, and gets them gigs with the most unlikely of acts.

"We used to be pigeonholed into a genre, and I don't think people can do that to us anymore," Davies adds, "we're constantly changing...and the songs are organic, and they're constantly changing."

"The songs should sound a little different every time, a lot of Jimmi's sax riffs are elastic, and I really like that," the guitarists enthuses, "and we never want to tie ourselves down with a specific, polished performance...we want to give the crowd something new every time."

Unfortunately, the Birds' underdog status began seriously affecting their attitude late last year--their white-hot 2000 release, Plum Crazy, somehow failed to make a dent in the local charts. That disappointment, combined with the usual struggles and a general lack of motivation, threatened to clip their wings.

"When you've been in a band for a long time, sometimes you have to re-invent that passion--you have to be in it, you have to be drunk on it," Swayze says soberingly.

"The band had a meeting a few months ago, and we all said, no more fuckin' around," Davies recalls as he replenishes his glass, "we've worked too hard, we've been together too long. We're not content to sit on our asses anymore."

Swayze admits, "There have been times when none of us had our heads in the game, but the last few months we've really taken off."

The Dirty Birds are almost as well-known for their automobiles as their music. They possess a fleet of classic rides that rival any rock band's--including a Swayze's near-pristine '69 Ambassador and Davies' pride-and-joy '65 Newport (a really mean, stripped-down sled with a big-block 440). However, the Birds' flagship is a flame-topped, black '65 Cadillac hearse that is as notorious for it's mechanical difficulties as it's ability to catch one's eye.

"Any band out there that wants to get a hearse, you'd better have a mechanic in the group," advises Swayze, who is currently assisting master wrenchman Davies in adapting a Mopar rear end for their bandwagon. As one might surmise, the grounds surrounding Dirty Bird Headquarters is littered with cars and various parts.

Another project for Davies is getting a recently-acquired, high-performance '69 Dodge Coronet back on the road.

"It was putting in a high 14 to low 15," Davies says.

"We found old time slips from the Portland Raceway behind the back seat," explains Swayze.

"So I know what it was doing, and I know I can get going faster than that," the frontman continues, adding, "of course, scraping off the 300 pounds of clear cote doesn't hurt."

"It has that '70s sparkly motorcycle helmet kind of look," Swayze interjects.

"Exactly!" Davies exclaimed. "It looks like a bowling ball, like it was dipped in plastic...I'm peeling it like an orange."

Also on the Birds' plate is working on new material, in preparation for a forthcoming disc. They are without their favorite recording haunt--Oly's Moon Studios--which, along with its owner, is moving to Norway, of all places. Swayze, a gifted engineer who has worked with such luminaries as the Murder City Devils, the Bangs, Modest Mouse and C Average, is currently scouting for new analog digs, and likes Tacoma's Uptone Studios the best of what he's found so far.

As summertime rapidly approaches, the band is also in preparation for their annual 4th of July party. A full-scale, firework-free fracas on private waterfront property, the bash has reached legendary proportions in recent years. According to Swayze and Davies, last summer's attendees consumed 29 kegs and 10 deep-fried turkeys, as well as a few whole pigs.

"It's more than a party, it's a festival," explains Davies, who began to visibly salivate at the thought.

"There will be 5 or six bands playing--and we'll have DJ Hubba Hubba back this year," Swayze assured me, as wheels began to turn in his head. "It's a crazy day," he remembers. "By nightfall, you hear all kinds of sounds coming out of the woods."

Laughing, his old friend adds, "There's the sound of lighters popping off and on; people hanging on to trees, retching their guts out; there's the gentle rustling of sex in tents; and the grunts and groans from people rolling around on the grass, in agony after eating and drinking so much.

"We not only provide a rock show, we provide an adventure," he concluded, motioning for the tab.