Founded at the Little Apple Brewing Company (hereafter referred to as LABCo), the GKSA originated in Manhappiness, Kansas, America. At LABCo there was the restaurant and the bar. There was the kitchen and the brewery. What lie betwixt-in-between became the GKSA. Mostly consisting of kitchen help (broiler, fry guy, expeditor, salad sucker, and dish dawgg), wait staff, and middle management. In its inception the term "Swamp Ass" floated about, circa '96. One Phillipe Whalen said it best as, "the feeling you get after a long Saturday game night
Soon the term of endearment became the new "Hootenanny" as a phrase used by said LABCo employees in reference to late night jams. The late night jams at the beginning consisted of closing out the restaurant and, consequently, the bar - as well as taking 'official-LABCo-beer-taste-tester Training'. I'm telling you, it's a tough curriculum! One too many mornings found the group peepin' the early morning light and smelling the cleaning products of the A.M. crew.
Music was always a huge factor in the kitchen and in each member's lives. "Complete Audiofiliac Syndrome" as my therapist refers to it (cough). The music, when allowed during work hours, dictated the mood of the kitchen staff - which trickled down throughout the rest of the restaurant. The same went for clean-down (aka Shoot the Moon) at the end of a long work shift. It was Tested by the group and confirmed by the Underwriters Laboratories that Scroat Belly's 'Great Alaskan Holiday', Creek Bank Ghetto Boys' bootleg tape, and anything by Jon Spencer's Blues Explosion tied as the greatest music ever created to clean a dirty kitchen to. Fueled by the sounds of the above, John Hartford was soon added to the mix. Bill Monroe followed. As did Bob Dylan, Johnny Cash, Reverend Horton Heat, THE Hank Williams, Bluegrass compilations, Folk recordings, roots music, cosmic blues, whatever the genre label, just good fucking made-with-your-bare-hands analogical mayhem (and Scroat Belly on top once again just for one last hit, like). The mayhem eventually inspired instrument retrieval (never stolen, but always borrowed) and those instruments floated their way to the late night jams.
In the beginning, mind you, a lot of G,C,D was tortured by knicked and knarled cookery appendages. You only needed three chords, right? The fun machine was introduced…lasted a few jams….and was stolen. Damn those 70's-organ-and-all-around-good-times-stealin'-dirty legged-father-muthas! And with all good things, Swamp Ass seemed to be a thing of the past. With half the collective given pieces of paper stamped with state authority, they disbanded. In the late 90's in states like Colorado, Oklahoma, Louisiana, Illinois, Missouri and Manhappiness (which is a state…of mind) you could hear the faint whimpers of swampless souls.
So as to not forget their bond, a larger singular being needed to be hatched. An entity that encompassed all things SWAMP….and all things Kansas. So they looked beyond themselves (literally, just outside of town) to find The Konza Praire Tall Grass Preserve. Preserve. Preservation…the preservation of their friendship and bond was henceforth entitled THE GREATER KONZA SWAMP ASSOCIATION (swamp ass for short).