She didn’t write their anthems.
Gretna Van Fleet never held a mic for the Grammy-winning rockers.
She didn’t sit in the studio. She was ninety-five when she died on Monday in a Frankenmuth senior living center, same place where the band cut their teeth way back in 2012.
It’s a quiet sort of immortality.
They stole her name.
Well, borrowed. Changed it up. The ‘n’ came off of Gretna.
Kyle Hauck. Old drummer. Early days. They needed a tag for a gig and time was short. He’d heard his granddad talk about helping this friend. Gretna.
Something clicked.
That’s how it starts. Not with strategy. With a hunch.
“I think they checked out my background… just to make sure I wasn’t on the Ten Most Wanted list.”
She was right. They vetted her. Didn’t ask her, though. Just ran with it.
When they finally met the lads, she shrugged.
Said it was okay.
Did she like them?
Mixed bag. She’s not big on the hard rock revival vibe. “Flower Power,” though. She picked that one as a favorite in a 2019 sit-down. Before they took Saturday Night Live by storm.
She knew her stuff, too. Not just a namesake. Played sax. Violin. Tuba. Piano.
Irony has a strange texture.
The band wins big in 2019. From The Fires. Then Starcatcher gets nodded again in 2024 for best album. The music charts are exploding.
Gretna’s just there. In her nineties. Remembering it isn’t really her era.
“It’s not my style.”
Fair enough.
They keep the name. It sticks. Now the source is gone, tucked into a quiet end in Frankenmuth. The sound continues loud and brash somewhere else entirely.
