Every now and then, I feel unkempt. Not quite together. My clothes seem to fit poorly, my hair not quite disciplined, and I truly doubt that the wife will remain as such.
Then I attend a
Truckstop Honeymoon show. And halfway through the gritty vaudevilian banjo/bass thwacking goodness I look around. And that, my friends, puts it all in perspective. There is nothing uglier than a bunch of grinnin' hillbillies. Overalls, dirty denim, sweat-stained flannels, and straw hats that have obviously been chewed by mouths lacking all requisite teeth. I felt dashing.
The music of the two is as genuine and real as they. It tells of getting kicked out of summer bible camp, chasing a mosquito fogging truck on bikes, and the things that make momma cry. It is written by two people who obviously mated for life and are as comfortable with each other as, well, old denim.
The married couple that make up the band aren't exactly models themselves. Katie, the prettier of the two, thumped the strings of the upright bass in worn out jeans, self-cut hair, and horizontal stripes stretched across her pleasantly pregnant belly. Singing makes her damn good looking, despite a rather intense gaze. Her husband, Mike, well...
Some people are born for their jobs. Looking at Mike, he was given an option: serial killer or redneck roadshow rockstar. At times his eyes blaze maniacal. His unwashed, uncut, unshaven head dances over the top of his banjo with an eerily lucid awareness. I promise you all, I will continue attending their raw performances if for no other reason than to prevent him from slipping into his alternate career. Because he would be just as good at that.
And for those with an ear for banjo and meth, check out
Fast Food Junkies, the opening band. Damn fine night in Kansas, it was. Damn fine.
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