Unusually, I met Peter Wile and spoke to him before I saw him play. I knew he played guitar and harmonica, and I talked to him about folk music — my favorite subject, the one that usually makes most people’s eyes glaze over. Pete went with it and even told me he’d met Pete Seeger. To me, that was like talking with John the Baptist: “Oh, the guy? Yeah, I’ve met him…”
That winter, we spent many Tuesday nights at Vinyl Night at Ploughman’s Taproom with Mike Stearns behind the bar. Pete drank a Dad’s Hat neat, I had a cider, and the three of us talked about swapping pickups on Telecasters, obscure David Bowie albums, and generally music-nerded to high heaven. It was glorious.
He would mention a gig he had coming up, but it was another month or so before I actually got to see him play. Then the long-haired guy I’d been joking with — the one who took pride in embarrassing me when he met me with a date (“Is he boring the hell out of you, talking about Civil War generals and Harry Chapin?”) — got up, tuned his guitar, and started playing.
Everything I thought about him changed in that moment. It was like the first time I saw Tom Petty in concert. As I recall, he played about two-thirds originals and filled the rest with well-chosen covers: old blues and country tunes, and a song or two by the Rolling Stones. In later shows, he appeared with Gena Lanette and other great musicians, and those performances only reinforced my opinion.
To explain my thoughts on Peter, I have to digress. Since I moved to Gettysburg, I’ve heard a lot of live music. There are virtuosos who seem to forget there’s an audience, and there are acts that insist on playing only originals — which is fine, unless every song is in G with the same five chords and the same strumming pattern. That’s charming for a first drink, but half an hour in, respect for their craft aside, my butt is starting to itch a little.
Thankfully, the broad majority are tremendous entertainers and musicians who play a mix of covers and originals in their own voice. I’d drive fifty miles — dog needing to pee the whole way — to hear Jenni Joy do “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald,” or Hopeless Semantics do “Taxi,” or Neil and Shannon tackle pretty much anything. I even enjoy songs I usually can’t stand when they make them their own. When they play an original, it’s fresh and interesting because they’ve already got you engaged. I know a good handful of Matt Moriss’s originals by heart, and after a truly terrible day, sitting in Ploughmans with a drink and hearing Mitch Morrell do “Sweet Melissa” can fix just about anything.
Peter Wile is one of the best live acts I’ve had the pleasure to see, Gettysburg or otherwise. He often surrounds himself with exceptional musicians and leads bands with a Springsteen-like authority. He’s easily one of the two best harmonica players I’ve ever seen (hi, Cuz), and he’s a true professional — a Tin Pan Alley–level songwriter. There’s not a band playing live music whose set wouldn’t be improved by Pete strolling up and sitting in.
Luckily, he and Gena are pretty ubiquitous around town these days, so do yourself a favor and catch him before fame finds him and he starts demanding bowls of only blue M&Ms in his green room.
This machine kills fascists, brother.
Tom Dudra is a local music nerd and civil war bore. He writes about local music, as well as essays and fiction about the civil war era. He is often found on the battlefield with Grant, his vicious basset war hound.