‘This is better’: On Coachella eve, Pappy and Harriet’s felt like a desert oasis

On the eve of Coachella Valley Music and Arts Festival, thousands of festival attendees are either pregaming at Playboy-branded parties or tucked in their beds, buckling down for the three-day musical gauntlet in the desert.

But I opted for a quite different musical experience an hour northwest, where the inside stage at beloved venue Pappy and Harriet’s Pioneertown Palace felt like a trip back in time. On Thursday night, 75 people gathered to hear the pedal-steel harmonies of Los Angeles-based ’70s rock revivalists Sylvie.

“Raise your hand if you’re going to Coachella,” said singer Ben Schwab. A few folks in the crowd gave a meek cheer. “Naw, this is better.”

Pappy and Harriet’s has a storied history, though it’s been besieged by controversy over the past few years. Pioneertown, population 558, was founded in 1946 by a group of Hollywood movers and shakers who wanted to essentially recreate a Wild West film set. Pappy and Harriet’s opened in 1982 as a biker bar serving Santa Maria-style barbecue, then became a music venue that hosted both local Southern California musicians and epic touring shows — including a surprise Paul McCartney set in 2016.

Then, in 2021, in the thick of the coronavirus pandemic, the longtime owners leased the venue and ceded operations to a pair of investors who have been accused of a vibe shift, at the very least, and antagonistic behavior at worst — things like changing the locks, effectively barring their investor partners, and having cars towed from the incredibly remote parking lot on a night the bar wasn’t even open.

That said, for a first-time visitor who made the dark drive through the winding desert hills, the ramshackle saloon that is Pappy and Harriet’s still felt like it had plenty of magic left. A massive outdoor smoker perfumed the patio with the scent of slow-cooked beef, and it seemed like most folks who packed the venue were there to eat. Plates of wet-rubbed ribs and creamy mac and cheese arrived at hungry tables, but by 8 p.m., the hostess was forced to deliver the bad news that the waitlist for the final dinner seating at 9:30 p.m. was full.

Luckily, I had sniped a bar seat, perched alongside a pair of women playing 500 rummy and a vacationer from San Francisco excited to discuss SF synthesizer companies. Perhaps it was short staffing due to the town-consuming festival an hour away, but the bar staff was so beleaguered that it took more than 30 minutes for even one of the band members to obtain a pre-set shot. That said, a tri-tip sandwich arrived at my barstool in under 10 minutes. Putting my Texas barbecue snobbery aside (I used to live in Austin), I can say it was welcome fuel for the rest of the evening.

Pappy and Harriet’s has two stages, with a larger outdoor stage for touring acts and an intimate indoor area for local bands, although as ownership has changed, some Southern California acts who regularly sold out the venue have anecdotally reported that their booking requests now go unanswered.

But this show, organized by San Francisco bookers Folk Yeah, sounded right at home in Pioneertown. Sylvie’s slow-motion folk rock, inspired by unreleased demos that Schwab’s father recorded in 1975, was reminiscent of Big Star’s mellower harmonies, with yacht rock bounce and adult-oriented rock riffs. The band’s style — and witch hat-wearing fans — gave away their hip Silver Lake roots. But the remote venue still felt worlds away from the late-night “activations” that pop up around Coachella, offering a welcoming desert calm before the sandstorm of chaos that is the Indio festival.