Originally, I went to see Rooster Sauce, because I loved Adelaide, now incarnated as Sara Lee Rooster. Now, I go see them every chance I get, because they are one of the truly fun bands appearing in Zootown. They opened a special Monday night event at the Badlander, inside the historic Ritz Building.
Did he say, "Jack Burton?" Rooster Sauce performed a sensational set and prepared the audience for the wildness to follow.
Expectation filled the Badlander, because these guys had a rep as heavy-duty, kick-ass and wild.
To say the singer of the Legendary Shack Shakers is intense would be a vast understatement. This dude puts the psycho in psycho-billy. Colin Hickey was right up front congratulating himself for booking this bunch, but when the spittle began to fly, he did a fast fade. Others treated the flying spit and sweat as a baptism and danced in religious ecstasy. These guys lived up to their billing with a rousing, roof-raising performance.
It was not my intention to be out late on Monday night. I figured I owed Rooster Sauce one, because I had missed their recent shows. I planned to leave after a few minutes of evaluating the headliners, but... They started playing, and this madman cavorted around the stage spouting subversive lyrics and mugging ferociously, with a touch of carnival barker and clown. I was hooked.
To make up the lack of sleep I was in bed, tonight, before 10pm, when my landlady and her boyfriend fired up a lawnmower outside my bedroom window. I'm getting pissed off again just remembering it, now. People who know me will tell you the old kitchen poet is usually pretty mellow, but this night I flew straight to rage, without breathing deeply, counting or anything else. I leaped to my window and shouted, "Shut that fucking thing off, and get the hell out of here." The machine soon died, and as he tried to restart it, I asked him if he had heard me. He said he did and continued with the mower. After reminding him of the time, I repeated my previous order. He left griping bitterly about just trying to clean the place up and do a good deed. He also shouted that I should show my landlord some respect.
So here I am early in the morning catching up on the blog and some other photo work, wishing I wasn't humming like a high-tension wire. I don't need this shit. The trip to Arkansas was stressful enough. Did I mention the night of my return, at a little before 11pm, pulling the U-Haul down the street to home and finding the landlady in the yard waving a weed-whacker around? She didn't have the boyfriend with her that night, but she was making plenty of noise on her own. When I told her she had to be violating a noise ordinance, she said she had to get those dandelions, because they had been on her mind.
Did I rape and murder nuns in a former life? What did I do to deserve this? Where do these people come from?
On a positive note: a thorough physical at Partnership Health Clinic found me to be in great shape for an old fart. My blood pressure was excellent then. I'll bet it isn't now.
