by Justin LittleOn Sun., Oct. 27, the Reverend Horton Heat landed at State Theatre, supported by Wayne “The Train” Hancock and with warm-up by local heroes, the Gotohells. This was a show that held some sentimental value to me.
In the fall of 1996, I was working in a record store in Rocky Mount, N.C., perusing the trade publications that were sitting around when I ran across an article about rockabilly neophytes Wayne Hancock from Texas and the Frantic Flattops from Rochester, N.Y. I special ordered Wayne’s 1999 album, That’s What Daddy Wants, and listened to it while taking the 90-minute drive from Rocky Mount to Chapel Hill, which is where rural NC folks went to catch live music. At the time, my exposure to rockabilly had been limited to the Stray Cats and genre pioneers (Elvis, Carl Perkins, Gene Vincent, etc.), so I wasn’t sure what to make of Hancock since he sounded more like a Western Swing version of Hank Williams than Chuck Berry, but I knew I liked it and I was especially taken in by his version of “Brand New Cadillac” and his now classic live staple, “87 Southbound.” Fourteen years later, I ended up sharing the stage with him, awkwardly filling in as his guitar player for a one-off show at Fubar in St. Pete.
In 1997, I caught Rev. Horton Heat when he headlined at the Cat’s Cradle in Chapel Hill, supported by Hank Williams III and the Amazing Crowns. The Rev. was hanging out in the crowd, shaking hands and chit-chatting with his fans when I told him that I had my guitar in my car outside. He replied, “I’m Jim. Go get it.” For the next 20 minutes, we talked about “Bettie,” my Gibson hollow-body, and how I hot-rodded my humbucker pickups and filled in the anchor-holes where the original bridge was before I added an after-market Bigsby.
In 2001, the Gotohells and Car Bomb Driver played State Theatre in St. Petersburg. I’d just moved to Florida and was putting together my band, and after seeing the Gotohells I thought, “So this is where the bar is set? I have some work to do.” They played punk-inspired rock n’ roll songs and I played punk-inspired rock n’ roll songs, so I’d always wanted to share a bill with them. Unfortunately, just as my band Redliners was starting up, the Gotohells were breaking up.
Or were they? Apparently the Gotohells were merely on a 12-year hiatus, because they delivered a seemingly flawless set on Sunday and if I wasn't already familiar with their history, I would’ve assumed they were a regularly touring national band offered as part of the Rev’s tour package. Their line-up of four guys and 12 eyes came across as exciting and professional as ever. Hopefully it just a one-off reunion because I’m already anticipating more performances and music to come.
Having seen Wayne “The Train” Hancock play several times, I can assure you that I’m the worst guitarist he’s ever played with, and his lead axe slinger on Sunday, Zach Sweeny, did nothing to prove me wrong. Wayne’s blend of traditional country and Western Swing (Hank Williams + Benny Goodman) is ideally fleshed out with upright bass, lead electric guitar, and pedal steel (with Wayne himself holding it down on rhythm-driven acoustic guitar and vocals); the last was missing on this night but Zach filled in all the holes flawlessly. Among the set highlights were, of course, “87 Southbound,”“Johnny Law,” and “Thunderstorms & Neon Signs,” but the songs Wayne played from his new album Ride were just as rousing as his more classic material.
There’s a good chance I’ve never seen anyone live as many times as I’ve seen the Reverend Horton Heat, and he never disappoints. As one of the innovators of “psychobilly”— a now somewhat homogenized subgenre of punk and rockabilly that used to be ruled by visionary acts like the Cramps, the Meteors, and the Flat Duo Jets — Heat’s style remains a unique and exciting voice in a subculture that has otherwise substituted hairdos and neck tattoos for imagination.
Per standard operating procedure, he warmed the crowd up with an instrumental opener and then hit’em in the guts with a crowd favorite, “The Devil’s Chasing Me.” Though in his mid-50s, the Rev doesn’t look any worse-for-wear than when I first saw him play almost two decades ago, and his energy on stage hasn’t lessened, either. The attention-grabbing stunts pulled by Heat and bull-bass player Jimbo Wallace that were once reserved for finales and encores — the Rev standing on Jimbo’s bass or the two crossing necks and trading fretboard duties — are now rolled out within the first five songs to make room for new acts of showmanship, like Jimbo and the Rev trading instruments to cover “Johnny B. Goode,” and the Rev bringing Wayne and Zach back on stage so he could trade solos with Zach and showcase Wayne just a little more.
The Rev encored with “Galaxy 500”— which included a well-received three-minute solo from drummer Scott Churilla — and closed the show on a high note, leaving me with the same impression that I usually get after leaving a Rev show: “So this is where the bar is set… I have some work to do.”