The Culture Vulture goes cuckoo: The Knitters & Phranc

Jeezus, it doesn't get much hotter than John Doe, Exene, Dave Alvin, D.J. Bonebrake and Jonny Ray Bartel on stage together on a late August night. I'm talking about The Knitters here, baby. Take three X exes, throw in one former Blaster, and add the guy with the big-ass double bass and you've got yourself one of the hottest tickets in town.

Dallas' Sons of Hermann Hall played host to our aforementioned heroes, and a better venue couldn't have been dreamed up. Trees or the Gypsy Tea Room couldn't have pulled this off with such aplomb. Hell, no. The old honky-tonk appeal of Sons of Hermann played right into the evening's vibe, and the pre-show rockabilly and old-school country selections pumped the audience right up. The crowd itself was great - people of all ages and proclivities, and to my relief, there was none of the usual hipster-bullshit attitude that usually poisons the atmosphere of Dallas gigs. Even the chair-juggling and haggling was relatively easy; we found the perfect seats - at a table right by the stage.

Toasting our good luck and Joe's birthday, we loaded up on our Coronas with lime, and when it was time for more, I sauntered up to the bar and ran right into my college buddy, Corey. The first words out of his mouth: "I knew you'd be here!"

Up front and center, Dreamheart.

Not only did Dave Alvin and John Doe first come on and do Merle Haggard's "Silver Wings" and "Crying But My Tears Are Far Away" - both from the 1985 Slash album Poor Little Critter On The Road - but John Doe told the crowd right off the bat that "We'll get the sad shit out of the way first." The reaction was mixed, consisting of some nervous titters here and there. After all, Poor Little Critter is full of those sad-sack, honky-tonk gems - both originals and covers - and for a moment there, those of us who'd take that disc to a desert island were feeling a bit disconcerted.

That fear was quickly shuffled aside when Exene, DJ and Jonny came out on stage, and launched right into the blistering evening. Exene called out for everyone to take a moment for Biscuit from the Big Boys, who died the previous week, so naturally, everyone raised their drinks in fond farewell.

Don't remember the order of the songs, but there's some re-tooled X floating around on the new album, The Modern Sounds of The Knitters - "In This House That I Call Home" and "Burning House of Love" that went over well with the crowd. Exene's intro to "In This House That I Call Home" came after several of us in the audience were shouting out requests for "Trail of Time," and she said, "Oh no. Instead of 'Trail of Time,' we're gonna do a song about this crazy-ass house in Hollywood that we used to live in."

The Knitters never fail to make magic with their various cover versions, and this time around there's Steppenwolf's "Born To Be Wild," "Rank Stranger" by the Stanley Brothers, and my favorite, Porter Wagoner's "I'll Go Down Swinging." How fucking perfect is that?! The power of Porter always compels me, so hearing this was truly a like sharing a moment with the divine.

Other crowd pleasers included all the standards from Poor Little Critter On The Road - "Poor Old Heartsick Me," "The New World," "The Call of the Wrecking Ball," "Baby Out of Jail" and "Rock Island Line," with a few new species thrown in. Sea monkeys? Gotta love it.

One burning question: why wasn't Dave Alvin on the bill for last year's Crossroads Festival at the Cotton Bowl?! He is a bona-fide guitar god, right up there with Clapton, Santana, Johnny Marr, and all the rest. Fingers of fire. He makes it look so effortless. And Exene and John, hell - Exene and John Doe are the Tammy and George, the Hank and Audrey, of rock and roll. For me, anyway. I don't give a shit what anybody else thinks.

Before the gig, I wasn't all that jazzed about opener Phranc, "the all-American, Jewish lesbian folk singer," but she won my heart. Anyone who buys their L.A. home with the proceeds from their Tupperware sales and sings a ditty about "Condoleeza, You're Scarin' Me" - well, they're tops in my book. Too bad the crowd in the back were acting like assholes and kept talking over her set. Their loss. They missed the other Phranc gems such as "Caped Crusader" (about Pope John Paul II), another song about renowned photographer Brassai's "nocturnal people" (is that the name of the song?) and covers including "The Hokey Pokey," Herman's Hermits' "Mrs. Brown, You've Got a Lovely Daughter" (on ukelele!) and Dylan's "The Lonesome Death Of Hattie Carroll." Hell yeah, I'd pay $20 to see her again. And she's cute, to boot!

I hereby proclaim that in the year 2005, The Deathray Davies will save rock and roll

Having been shamed into cheapskate-dom with the recent move and ongoing relationship upheaval, I finally decided I couldn't hold myself back any longer and snagged the latest Deathray Davies CD - "The Kick and The Snare" - on Saturday, and I've been in a Deathray Daze ever since. In a nutshell, it hasn't yet emerged from my CD player - unless you count the times it's been shuffled between my car and home stereo.

All I can say is, wow. I haven't been this dazzled by an album since last year's "Live In Aught-Three" by James McMurtry and the Heartless Bastards. I was seriously beginning to lose hope, too. I like the newest Razorlight a lot, and Los Super 7's "Heard It on The X" is great - and I've yet to trip on the new Foo Fighters - but there's something about this one that takes total control of me, getting me off my fat, lazy, tired ass, making me bop around and play furious, idiotic rounds of air guitar, like what you'd get if you crossed Pete Townsend with Jackie Chan. Yeah, it looks stupid and I don't give a shit. I played it for Carmen last night and she described it as 'kinetic.' She's always able to come up with the most perfect one-word descriptions.

Songwise, there are several standouts on the entire album. You couldn't ask for a better send-off than "The Fall Fashions," whose initial blast totally took me back to that first Psychedelic Furs album, for some reason. The second song, "Release the Squid (Box 6)," rises to the challenge of the first one. My other favorites so far have been "Stumble," with its twists and turns, and it's obvious that my song of the week is "Chainsaw." I can't get the damn thing out of my head. That sing-songiness of it all, the chorus - "I'm coming for you!" - punctuated with Devo-esque keyboards, pounding guitar, and lyrics that'll make you wonder, "Am I really singing along to this?" And "Alaska" delivers a great ending. It's all kick-ass, though. No doubt next week there'll be some new tracks I'll find myself playing over and over, but there's something for everyone on this CD: no shortage of infectious, kinky guitar hooks, and original, smartly-crafted wordsmith wonder, guaranteed to make you giggle like a loon. Pure pop goodness. Never a dull moment.

So if the thought of supporting your local working musicians makes you all tingly and altrusitic inside, consider adding this gem to your CD collection. If that doesn't sell you, maybe this will: just last month, The Deathray Davies played the Lebowski Fest in Louisville, Kentucky, winning a place in my heart forever.

Mark my words: they're here to steal your ever-lovin' rock and roll heart, too. And if you buy "The Kick and The Snare" now, later on you can entertain and eventually bore the grandkids with your stories of livin' and lovin' in the Summer of the Deathray, 2005.

Both Dallas and Ray Davies should be very proud, indeed.


Other albums I shouldn't have bought with dodgy credit, but did anyway:

Gary Stewart - "Out of Hand" and "Your Place Or Mine." One of those two-CDs-on-one deal, purchased from the Ernest Tubb Record Store in the Fort Worth Stockyards, where I'm sorry to say the owners were definitely not as friendly as their counterparts at the flagship store on Broadway in Nashville. Oh well. Both contain tons of songs not on "The Essential Gary Stewart," and the last song on Out of Hand is "Williamson County," the murder ballad Gary Stewart penned with his wife, Mary Lou, who according to Jimmy McDonough's Perfect Sound Forever article, was the love of Gary's life (and loved to flash her boob job at anyone who asked). God bless Gary Stewart, and Mary Lou, too. I hope Jimmy McDonough writes their story. I just read his tome on Russ Meyer and despite some initial misgivings, it does seem like he'd be the right one to bring their tumultuous, tawdy, and heartbreakingly true story to life. Maybe their surviving daughter, Shannon, will be open to the idea, or even has plans for her own version.

And why the hell isn't Gary Stewart in the Country Music Hall of Fame?

Minutemen - "Double Nickels on the Dime." Beautiful stuff, bought in anticipation of "We Jam Econo," which, God willing, will hopefully be screened somewhere in DFW before the end of the year. More later on that, but it'll happen. Anyway, the only thing I had by the Minutemen was their 20-second or so version of Van Halen's "Ain't Talkin' About Love" on the SST compilation "Duck and Cover," and the time was right. This power trio's thumping bass lines and funky rhythms under the most basic and stripped-down formula make this CD a must-have, and for those who think the Minutemen did nothing to influence legions of bands in their wake, please stop now and flagellate yourself, and say twenty "Hail D. Boons." Also, SST just rules, man. They put out the "Lovedolls Superstar" soundtrack, for fuck's sake. And Lawndale and Gone. And Black Flag, whose CDs "Damaged" and "Slip It In" I really should track down, as those two were my hands-down favorites. Oh my, and remember the cover art on those Black Flag albums, especially "In My Head?" Holy phukkerooney - that shit still haunts me to this day.

A few shout-outs of 'rest in peace,' if you please

The Dallas sports station I used to do traffic for would always make note of celebrity death trifectas, such as the week in April of 1998 when we lost Tammy Wynette, Wendy O. Williams of the Plasmatics, and Rob Pillatus of Milli Vanilli. This week, I'm sorry to have to bid farewell to:

Ibrahim Ferrer - The 80-something Cuban crooner whose energetically dizzying performance at Bass Hall left me glowing in the dark and walking on air.

Peter Jennings - News anchor extraordinaire and my 5:30 crush. Sheena Easton had a crush on him, too. God bless Peter Jennings. Often it was the most horrible news in the world he had to deliver, but you felt his pain, right along with your own.

Barbara Bel Geddes - She portrayed the beloved Ewing family matriarch Miss Ellie on the series "Dallas." Her death came also within days of the announcement that the third season - a.k.a. the "Who Shot J.R.?" period - would be coming out on DVD.


Songs getting me through the week, somehow. Laugh all you want:

Charlie Daniels Band - "Long Haired Country Boy." Seriously. Charlie was cool way back when, before Christ and the Cracker Barrel kicked in. And the lyrics pretty much sum up my attitude these days.

The Eagles - "Those Shoes." Like a woman needs any encouragement. Other than that, I'm not the biggest Eagles fan in the world; as a matter of fact, I'm right there with The Dude from "The Big Lebowski" when it comes to Henley, Frey, et al - "Look, I'm having a rough day, and I hate the fuckin' Eagles, man!" But this song fucking rocks. Does Joe Walsh play on this one?

The James Gang - "Walk Away." Speaking of Joe Walsh. I love, love, love this song. There's another Joe Walsh song that I like - "Life of Illusion" - but iTunes didn't have it. Fuckahs. Don't know what brought this sudden Joe Walsh thing on.

Los Super 7 - "Cupido." Freddy Fender, Rick Trevino, and Calexico in one delectable earful. I can't speak or sing in Spanish for shit, but I catch myself singing along despite it all. "Ojitos Traidores," too. I've got four words for ya: Jacob Valenzuela's trumpet solo. Could charm the birds out of the trees, man.

Blind Faith - "Presence of the Lord." Clapton, this time with Little Stevie Winwood. Does it to me every time.

Is Robert Novak cracking at the seams?

Oh, Jeezus please, let it be!

Click on the above heading if you've not experienced Novak's little on-air lah-di-dah for yourself just yet and tell me if this is not a man on the verge of a serious breakdown.

Talk about makin' ya laugh to beat the band...

I really hate to get all schadenfreude on anyone's ass, but I've never, ever seen this rubbery-lipped, pompous douche king let anyone ruffle his feathers. And lo and behold, along comes that peppery little Cajun imp Carville, putting an end to that shitty streak!

I'm doing a little Carville cheer, as we speak.

And then I'm feeling suddenly deflated, because Fox News and their attorneys are probably already waiting for Novak with open arms, and juicy new contracts in hand. What the hell do I know?

Just came to the stunning conclusion that...

...some right-leaning people who call themselves "Libertarians" are actually closet Republicans who, deep down inside, are feeling pretty horrific after having voted for GWB in the last election. Seriously. Two people up here at the office who boasted proudly that they'd voted for Idiot Boy last November now conveniently refer to themselves as "Libertarian." Whatever. I do hope they're feeling sufficiently shitty, though, as they enjoy the dubious fruits of their victory.