Red Eyed Fly, November 7, 2003
Please take your imaginary Honky hat off
of your head and place it over your imaginary heart.
pledge allegiance to HONKY, one of my favorite bands,
and to the Republic of Texas for which it stands:
one bottle of whisky is indivisible,
with Rock and Handsome Joel, their patron saint, for all.”
If it is not obvious that I love the band
Honky, you don’t have a freaking clue,
but you should know about these fine southern gentlemen. Maybe
you missed the many farewell shows of Honky? I thought these
southern rock, ZZ top, Van Halen rock stars were calling it
quits a long time ago, but fortunately, they have endured.
Long time drummer Lance Farley is no longer with the band,
but Kenny Wagner, the new fellow seems to be settling in just
This Friday night at the Red Eyed Fly, I
walked into the amazing rock sound of Amplified Heat.
(I will let you reference other Rank and Revue articles about
this phenomenal music force at www.rankandrevue.com.) They
are the hottest new act in town, extremely easy on the eyes,
and each musician is a force to be reckoned with. If winter
sets in, you will definitely need to warm your ears by this
Next up was Gun Totin’ Meat
Eaters. This is the only act in town where I feel
the distinction between the band and the front man, the act
and the audience, and hurting yourself and really hurting
yourself. Often distracted by the commentary and skull bashing
antics of singer/trashcan diver, Chad Holt, this was the first
time I took notice of the tight sexy heavy sound of the band.
Rock on you bad motherfuckers. I like it!
Haven’t seen the Gun Totin’ Meat
Eaters? You might be scared or disgusted or groped, but often
when Chad dives head first into a trash can, I am reminded
of the days of Crust where the front man swung raw cow tongues
with his mouth or burned his pubic hair off for public enjoyment.
While things are always subject to change, this stage show
has not crossed into the GG Allen playing field. So as long
as you can move quickly, you love blood, and you often feel
the need to abuse and pour beer on people spinning on the
ground in a large plastic trash can, you’ll love it.
Even if you don’t love it, you need to see it once…like
a train wreck.
I have been a huge fan of Honky for years
and years and years, but since losing the goodhearted mayor
of Red River, Handsome Joel almost a year ago, the band has
taken on a new meaning to me. I like hearing them talk to
Joel and about him. I think it helps a lot of people deal
with that huge loss. On this particular night, I believe bass
player, Jeff Pinkus, had a little more whisky in his monitor
than Bobby Rock on guitar. These guys had just finished touring
around with Dixie Witch, and they seemed pleased to be home.
I am sorry that I can’t give you a good summary of the
set list; I have never really known any of the song names,
hell, not even the covers. I go for the southern rock sound
and those foxy boys with their flying Vs and skunk striped
goatees. I go to see my friends who share my musical taste
and raise some hell. By the time Looney of the Oklahomos came
up to sing a song, the stage was being invaded by many of
the ladies in the audience. It seemed there might be a cat
fight but no such luck. You really missed a hell of a night.
I highly recommend you check out each of
these bands, buy their CDs and T-shirts and their drinks so
they can continue to entertain me. Oh yeah, and you too. Be
sure to check out www.amplifiedheat.com
Red Eyed Fly, November 8, 2003
Mix yourself a martini…stronger. Put
on something swanky—something mod and hip. Take a left
at 8th and Red River, and wedge your surfboard into the packed
house for Dick Dale at the Red Eyed Fly.
Amber, the lovely doormistress, will need a wad of cash from
you, but this is one of the guitar greats, so pay up.
Dick Dale created surf music in the 50s,
and he’s not about to let anyone forget it. Having missed
a lot of the first half of the show, I walked in while Dale
was talking…for like fifteen minutes. Then there was
some mellow, almost-country music. I wondered if I was confusing
the guy who blew up forty-nine amps and speakers (some would
actually catch on fire) with this guy in the black headband.
An ode to Johnny Cash, a little Willie Nelson, and finally,
Dick started cranking it up with his signature surf tunes.
Dick was strutting his wares, loving every
minute of it. He ascended into the crowd, a sea of fans and
frisky ladies parting for his safe passage. He went out the
back door of the place, cranking out a song I thought might
be from the blockbuster film Pulp Fiction, came back in the
front, snaked around in the crowd, and went back on stage
to finish off the night with some heart stopping guitar playing
with a great band (just drums and bass). True rock star applause
at the end.
I heard some diehard fans say he usually
played much longer, but no one seemed disappointed with the
quality over quantity. It was before 12:30 a.m. when the lights
faded on. I had underestimated the time schedule of someone
called the “Father of Heavy Metal” – due
to his experimentations with high-level sound, not his signature
black headband. I had spent enough time sucking down booze
at the Red Eyed Fly the night before watching Amplified Heat,
Gun Totin’ Meat Eaters, and Honky. Such a great show,
I was drinking red bull for this one. I raise my sugary energy
drink to a well-deserving legend who stuck around to sign
a kajillion autographs. I’m pretty sure there were groupies
hanging around. Thanks Dick, for all the great guitar tricks!
Be sure to check out www.dickdale.com.