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The Aftermath: Cotton Head. Queasy stomach. Busta Bloodvessel... in my legs, from five hours of foot-stomping. A monster adrenaline rush. I have skanked with so many reggae bands, it would take 10 megs to describe them all. Pogo-ed with the Clash (narrowly avoiding a brawl with drunken brain-dead Frat Boys... saved by the ladies, I might add). Gotten down with the Stray Cats so hard that I almost hyperventilated (giving a start to my Rockabilly filly dancing partner). Done the ska with a massive crowd to the Skatalites. The sweaty two-step with Buckwheat Zydeco. But I have to readily admit that was a riot to channel my inner hillbilly, having depleted my resources to the considerable efforts of the Old Crow Medicine Show, and the Hackensaw Boys. The term I saw, recently, that describes the phenom succinctly, is "Re-in-tarnation." It's when you die and come back a yahoo. Old Crow Medicine Show (a formerly-mohawked ensemble, to get the impression) is a five-piece acoustic old-time music slam dance . From the impression I was getting, this is probably how the music came about. And they were just the openers. The Hackensaws (promoted by Mark, who sells our hot sauce at the Blue Moon Diner... and there is no more soul-satisfying place to eat, than a diner) vary from ten to more members. Ever heard of Phil Spector's "Wall of Sound?" This is "Wall of Kudzu." So many members that and old friend, "CB" (dobro palyer), had to exit the stage when the band head-count swelled to fifteen, lest he be tenderized by fiddle bow. The effect? So hot that I had to strip from cowboy shirt to wife-beater. Beer-bathed. Jostled from all angles by elbows, feet... and soft bits alike. There is nothing like live music, which I will repeat 'til the breath leaves me. It's all-encompassing. Hot Dang! Find out for yourself. the Hackensaws will be on the road as part of the Unlimited Sunshine Tour, with Cake, De La Soul, Modest Mouse, etc through July. You Should Go. Seeing is relieving. It's boring and probably unfair to see me constantly ragging on Dianne. But it was kind of sad, really, to see how many people tried to cajole her to move on the dancefloor. She stayed 'til the end, but stood, statue-like throughout. I know she likes this music, it's always on the CD player... but she refuses to emote, or loosen up. I'm at a loss on how to bridge the gap. I don't want to weaken, or trash the last ten years... but something's got to shake. Enough. Time to take a drive to Fredericksburg. Got a call from Kim at Orbits (our other sauce destination)... who wants to flesh out some daydreams about starting a radio station. Now THAT sounds intriguing! TA! |
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