The first stage Colt Edwards ever found was a concrete basketball pad behind his childhood home There were no lights, no amplifiers, and no crowd. Just a kid on a skateboard, working through the tricks he had watched older skaters do in Cayucos and repeating them until they began to feel like his own. Every trip to the coast gave him something new to bring back to the Valley. A style. A sound. A little more stoke than he had before.

Long before Colt knew how to write a song, he was already learning how inspiration works: you find it somewhere unexpected, you carry it home, then you turn it into something of your own. Born in Fresno and raised for a time in the countryside on the outskirts of Lemoore, CA, Colt grew up surrounded by open fields, quiet roads, and enough space to do his own thing. His family frequently traveled to the Central Coast, staying with relatives in Los Osos and Cayucos. Those trips introduced him to a different kind of culture, one shaped by coastal fog, surf sessions, skateparks, and long days near the pier.

That movement between the coast and the Valley became part of who he was. Growing up in the country taught him how to be independent, enjoy the outdoors, and create something out of whatever was around him.

Skateboarding was Colt’s first true love. His dad kept an old skateboard from the 1980s in the garage. When Colt was little, his dad would hold him and roll around with him on it. By the time Colt was five, he was asking for a skateboard every birthday and Christmas. Before long, he was spending nearly every day at the skatepark, watching the older skaters, learning their tricks, and returning home determined to try them himself.

Skating gave him more than something to do. It gave him validation, stoke, and community. It became his meditation before he was old enough to understand that he needed one. Whenever life felt heavy, he could grab his board, step outside, and clear his mind.

It also taught him how to fall. You slam. You break a board. Sometimes you break a bone.

Then you get up and try again.

Skateboarding is humbling that way. A trick does not care how badly you want it or how many times you have already failed. You keep showing up, making small adjustments, and committing until something finally clicks. Colt did not know it then, but he was learning the same patience and persistence he would eventually bring into music.

Around fourteen, another path opened. Colt watched a friend play acoustic songs on a guitar and asked him to teach him a few chords. Just as skating had taken over years earlier, music quickly consumed him. He started writing songs, learning drums, and figuring out how to record music in his bedroom. By sixteen, he was fully obsessed.

Then came Daze Baby. Joining the band gave Colt his first opportunity to become part of a real musical journey. The group learned together, wrote songs together, and eventually built enough material to perform its first show in a backyard in Lemoore. They invited a collection of oddball bands, including one that traveled from Oregon, and created their own little world for the night.

They did not know exactly what they were doing. They did not know where it might lead. That was part of what made it special.There was no polished stage or established scene waiting for them. They made the space themselves, filled it with friends and artists, and watched something come alive. More than a decade later, after countless performances and recordings, Colt still considers that first backyard show one of his favorites. It opened his mind to the culture surrounding live music and showed him the magic that can happen when people create something together.

That same do-it-yourself spirit has followed him ever since. Over the years, Colt has become a songwriter, musician, producer, and recording engineer. He has played drums, guitar, and on stages across California, but his creative process often begins alone. A melody appears in his head. A guitar progression refuses to leave him alone. He steps into the studio and records a live demo, playing every instrument until the idea that existed only in his imagination becomes a song.

For Colt, that process feels otherworldly. Being alone in a room filled with instruments and a head filled with ideas reaches a place that nothing else can. He does not need an audience to make it meaningful. Most art happens when nobody is watching anyway.

When an idea is not ready, he has learned to leave it alone. You cannot rush the right song. You have to give it space and trust your instincts. You have to be ready when it arrives.

That mindset helped give life to Beertides. Colt had been writing laid-back garage and surf-rock songs on his own for about a year when he decided they deserved to become something larger. The name came naturally while he was mixing the original demos. It felt coastal, funny, and not too serious. More importantly, it fit the music.

After releasing the demo tape, Colt called on Thomas Fernandes, Isaiah Blanks, Anthony Narcisse, and Evan Huff. Friends, former bandmates, and musicians who understood the sound began practicing together. What started as one person’s collection of songs became a full fledged band.

Beertides carries the coast into the Central Valley through echoing guitars, spacious vocals, and classic surf-rock riffs. The music feels familiar without sounding borrowed, like a half-remembered song drifting from a car near the beach. It gives listeners a way to leave the heat and asphalt behind for a little while, even if the ocean is still hours away.

Colt once thought he would be living on the coast by now. Instead, family, friends, and music have kept him rooted in the Valley. His brothers are here. His bands are here. So are the artists, promoters, backyard shows, and strange local groups that taught him what a creative community could be.

The Valley has given him room to breathe and the drive to make something original. It is a place where artists often have to build the thing they wish existed. For Colt, that has never been a reason to leave. It has been a reason to create. 

“If we don’t do it, who will?”

He has been shaped by the people who kept the local scene moving, from the shows at Fatte Albert’s in Hanford to the SNV family in Visalia. He remembers seeing Dirty Limbs as a teenager and being stunned by their raw, punk-driven energy. Those early shows revealed a world that existed close to home and introduced him to people who would eventually become friends, collaborators, and family.

Now Colt hopes Beertides can give someone else that same feeling. If a kid hears the band, picks up a guitar, puts together a backyard show, or realizes they can create their own scene, the music has done something worthwhile.

Success looks different to Colt today. It is not becoming rich, famous, or proving that he is better than anyone else. It is recording Beertides’ first full-length album. It is taking those songs to the Central Coast and Los Angeles. It is opening for the bands they admire, finding the people who connect with their sound, and leaving a legacy, something special, that endures through time. 

In many ways, he already feels like he is living the dream. He gets to make music with some of his best friends. When everything clicks onstage, a forty-five-minute set can disappear in what feels like five. The band stops thinking and starts communicating through rhythm, glances, and instinct. Reality falls away. For a little while, there is only the room, the music, and the people sharing it.

When Colt is away from the stage and studio, life becomes quieter. He runs his own landscaping business and tends to a small nursery filled with succulents, cacti, bonsai trees, and other unusual plants. When he reaches a creative block, he walks into the yard, waters his trees, and sits in the sounds of the day. Sometimes the best way to return to the work is to step away from it.

There will always be another song waiting to be written. Another show to build. Another stretch of coastline calling his name. Maybe it leads to a full-length record. Maybe it leads to a stage at The Siren in Morro Bay. Maybe it is nothing more than a DIY show beside the beach with his family and friends.

For Colt, the dream has never needed to be complicated. Pack the boards, bring the guitar, hit the road and see where it goes.That is more or less how Colt moves through life. One idea becomes a riff. A riff becomes a song. A few friends in a room become a band. A backyard becomes a stage. Nothing needs to be fully planned before it begins. Sometimes you just follow the feeling and trust that it will lead somewhere worth going.

There will probably be a few cold beers and tacos along the way, but for Colt, Beer for the Journey is not about waiting until the adventure is over to celebrate. It lives inside the experience. It is the beer passed between friends at the skatepark, the one cracked open while the amps warm up, and the reason everyone stays a little longer after the last song. It is about leaving room for things to happen.

For another song. For another show. For another strange idea that might become something real. Then see where the tide takes you!