Sherman Alexie - Reservation Blues

Like you said, I’m a Spokane Indian from the Spokane Indian Reservation. I play bass guitar and share vocals with Chess Warm Water. She’s a Flathead Indian from Montana, not Spokane.

I’ve talked to some people here tonight who said they’ve seen quite a few of your shows. They were really impressed. You’re not just a cover band, are you? When did you make the decision to play original material? And who writes your songs?

Well, we started out as a cover band. But it was sort of weird, enit? We covered great stuff, like Aretha Franklin and Alex Chilton, but none of those songs were Indian, you know? I mean, some of those songs we covered should’ve been written by Indians, but they weren’t. So I decided to write some songs myself. I write all the songs now. But I was wondering who heard of us before. We mostly played on the reservations. I didn’t see no Indians here tonight.

A couple people mentioned they saw you. But seriously, how does songwriting make you feel?

Good.

I’ve noticed that you had two white women singing backup for the band tonight. That seemed sort of unusual. How do you think other Indians look at that? And how do you think it affects your sound?

I don’t even know those women all that well. They were waiting for us when we got here. I’ve seen them before though. They’ve been following us for a while, way back on the reservation even, then in Montana. I caught Junior and Victor, the drummer and lead guitarist, all naked with them a while back. They sound really good, enit? We took a quick vote to see if they would sing with us, and the vote was 2–2. So we flipped a coin, and the white women were in. It’s kind of tough, though. They only sang backup because they’re sleeping with Junior and Victor. I don’t know how it affected the music. But we won, didn’t we? I don’t know what Indian people will think about those white women. But hey, an Indian woman invented the blues a day before Columbus landed, and rock ’n’ roll the next day. We’re not stealing those white women or stealing the music. It’s not like we’re all white because we have white women in the band.

Well, if nothing else, the irony is incredible, isn’t it? And I was wondering who voted against the white women. And what are the white women’s names?

Chess and I voted against them. And their names are Betty and Veronica.

Really?

Really.

How would you assess their relationship with Junior and Victor?

I’m not like a therapist or something. But I don’t think it has much of a chance. I mean, I think they’re all using each other as trophies. Junior and Victor get to have beautiful white women on their arms, and Betty and Veronica get to have Indian men.

Do you think you could elaborate on that? Our listeners out there in the rock world would love to know.

Jeez, I just realized. Them two are the ones who saw us play before. They must really be following us around. That Betty and Veronica. Man. They are beautiful, enit?

Yes, they are. But what do Betty and Veronica have to gain in all of this?

Look at them. They got more Indian jewelry and junk on than any dozen Indians. The spotlights hit the crystals on their necks and nearly blinded me once. All they talk about is Coyote this and Coyote that, sweatlodge this and sweatlodge that. They think Indians got all the answers.

How long do you think that relationship will last?

Until the next slow song.

Well, I don’t know when that’s going to be. That Victor plays a wicked guitar. I’ve never actually seen a guitar set a table on fire, though. It’s a good thing that Chess had fire safety training, isn’t it?

We almost lost the whole damn thing because Victor got drunk. How did you know Chess had fire experience?

An amateur would never have put a fire out that quickly. Forgive me for asking, but I noticed that you and Chess seem to have a close relationship.

Jeez, getting personal, enit? She’s my partner. We’re in love, I guess. No. We are in love. She’s pretty amazing. I write songs for her, you know. She’s the first Indian woman who ever paid me much attention. That’s something special.

Well, I think you’ll be getting a lot of attention from all kinds of women now. Especially white women.

I don’t need that.

Well, I hope that’s true. I also heard that Chess has a sister who used to be in the band. Is that true?

Yeah, Checkers, her sister, stayed home on the reservation. She wants to sing in the church choir instead. They’re both Catholic women, you know?

Don’t you think that’s odd?

I don’t think it’s odd at all. I mean, I think God loves to dance as much as the rest of us. I think we’d all be better off if we put more rock music into our churches. Chess told me that God is a long ways up, and we need to be loud so God can hear us. What’s louder than rock ’n’ roll?

Do you believe in God?

Yeah, I do.

Do you believe in the devil?

I don’t know. I’m beginning to. Seems there’s more proof of the devil than proof of God, enit?

Is God a man or a woman?

God could be an armadillo. I have no idea.

Checkers stood in the back row of the choir; she was much taller than all the altos, baritones, and sopranos. She was taller than everybody in the church and wondered if Spokane Indian Catholics were short by nature. Easily distracted by the details, she tried to concentrate on the service. Father Arnold led the service with intensity and passion, like he was more Baptist than Catholic. Most priests just went through the motions, recited platitudes by rote, and turned Communion into a Sunday brunch.

“Let us pray together now,” Father Arnold said, “in the words Our Father gave us.”

Checkers held the hands of the choir members on either side of her, Nina and Maria Christopher. Checkers always loved this part most, the Lord’s Prayer, the holding of hands, the circling of the community. She recited the prayer and watched Father Arnold. He glanced around the church, made eye contact with his flock, and smiled.

“Let us now offer each other a sign of peace,” Father Arnold said.

“Peace be with you.”

“Peace be with you.”

“Peace, sister.”

“Peace, brother.”

The members of the choir hugged as they offered peace to each other. Nina and Maria hugged Checkers, but she held the hugs way past the comfort level of the Christophers.

“Peace to all of you,” Father Arnold said, outside the ceremony, and the community responded.

“Peace be with you.”

Father Arnold sang his prayers. A beautiful voice. Checkers wondered if he ever sang in a band. Maybe in college. He almost had soul. Catholics were supposed to save souls, not possess them.

“This is the body, this is the blood.”

Checkers greedily took Communion, happy to be one of the first. She opened her mouth, offered it to Father Arnold, who placed the bread gently on her tongue. She felt his fingertips, smelled his soft cologne. The ritual, the ritual. She smiled at Father, who smiled back, then looked past her.

“Amen.”

Checkers stepped past the Communion wine, though she still smelled the alcohol. She fought back memories of her father’s breath after he came home from a long night of drinking.

Checkers? Little one? Are you awake?

Checkers returned to her place in the choir. She hummed the hymn softly because she had forgotten the words. Beautiful, she felt beautiful in her twenty-year-old robe. The fringe was gone, the colors faded, but she knew how beautiful she was. Father Arnold had complimented her before mass.

“Checkers,” he said, “you look very nice.”