Concert Reviews: September 1995

Circle Jerks 

You are expecting a long review going into great detail about the stage lighting and the awesome sound along with a description of all the “hit” songs the Circle Jerks played at DV8. Not today. Go read the Salt Lake Tribune. I saw some blood, black eyes and a whole bunch of people getting tossed out of DV8. I also saw one of the “fools” standing on stage grinning at the crowd. Keith Morris, Circle Jerks lead singer, handled the situation better than any stand-up comedian addressing a heckler.

“Why don’t you get your own band?” was the question he asked the “fool.” Thanks for

that! As for the show? All you little children wandering around in your “trendy” punk rock outfits with mohawks and chains holding your wallets in your pants should have been there. Some of you were and you know exactly what these next words mean. There’s your punk rock sucker. Paul Booth wanted to see his name in print with a quote so here it is: “That was the Rolling Stones of punk rock. They are my Rolling Stones,” or something similar. I didn’t have a tape recorder on me. 

Stacy Dean Campbell at The Westerner? 

If there is a hack for any other paper in this city who attended both Los Straitjackets and Stacy Dean Campbell, please write to Dear Dickheads and call me Larry Betters. Campbell was sponsored by K-BULL. The bar was filled with those “hat” guys and girls wearing Wranglers. The boys all had the big buckles. I believe that if you wear a “cowboy” hat to The Westerner you automatically become a member of the “private” club. 

The experience ranks with the strangest of my life. You think punk rockers, skaters, goth hounds, industrial clones, ravers and metal heads all have a uniform? Have you checked out a country bar lately? These are cookie-cutter people. The only difference between one and another is how long they’ve been baked—the chocolate chip recipe vs. the peanut butter or sugar cookie. I will say one thing: there are some beautiful women in country bars. They all line up on the dance floor and do strange variations on the “Hokie Pokie” to music with a bass beat so strong that it would scare the DJ from Saturday Night Fever. I had to hear all the hits: “Boot Scootin’ Boogie,” “Electric Slide,” “Strokin’,” “Reggae Cowboy,” and most weird of all the Rednex version of “Cotton Eyed Joe.” These fuckers “line dance” to techno—I’m completely lost. Country music and the accompanying “line-dancing” has now embraced rap, blues and techno; anything with a bass line, a beat and a fiddle or banjo is fodder for the “Hokey Pokey” crowd. 

After what seemed like eons of listening to “modern country disco” the band finally took the stage. As soon as they appeared, I realized that something was extraordinarily amiss. There stood Campbell with a pompadour, sideburns, black Levis with cuffs, a black shirt and black boots. The local Sony guy convinced me to attend the show and I knew I was in for some modern honky tonk. What I didn’t realize was that the honky tonk would be played by a rockabilly band. Most curious of all was the presence of Los Straitjackets bassist E. Scott Esbeck playing the same god damned instrument he used to thrill a crown of surf fiends at the Cinema Bar. And the cat can sing. As the poster hanging in the club pointed out the background singers are the equal of the Jordainaires…Esbeck was one of them! 

Campbell and his band rock. There was no doubt in my mind where these boys’ roots lay the instant they launched into “Why You Been Gone So Long,” their opening song and a cut from their first CD. On the floor the “cowboys” did the hokey pokey to honky tonk. A few couples were sighted “swinging” and one extremely nasty pair did a little dirty dancing. The sight of a “cowgirl” on her knees giving simulated “head” while the band played on is more than enough reason to experience The Westerner, if only once. (Where are photographers—Royce or DeBerry—when you really need them?) Her boyfriend did the same and then they humped on the floor. I swear, it’s true! A cowboy with a “wet spot” on his jeans below the big buckle line dancing? You tell me that isn’t weird. 

Had a “hot” divorcee lately? The Westerner is the place to find one and there isn’t any room in those tight fittin’ jeans for a “raincoat.” The ballads for me were the low point. Thankfully, Campbell didn’t do many. He only played for an hour. The two stand-out covers were Jim Ed Brown‘s “Pop A Top” and Freddie Fender‘s “Wasted Days and Wasted Nights.” For originals, you might check out “Honey I Do,” the closer, or “Ain’t Livin’ Long Like This,” the encore (sorry, that was a cover). 

I recently read Kevin Avery‘s diss on the stupidity of local concert audiences. Avery, my boy, if you want to have some true fun, go to a country bar and watch the big buckled boys and girls react to a rockabilly band playing honky tonk music. I know you don’t go out much, but…as the pedal steel man told me, “This is the future.” I’d have to agree. If you can’t make any money playing rockabilly, simply play honky tonk for a crowd that has no idea what the fuck they are listening to. Too much fun from a too good band no one in Salt Lake City caught on to, except for maybe Brian Staker, who wrote a concert preview for the event. Too bad you didn’t see them live, Mr. Staker. –Speedy North By Northwest 

Read more from the SLUG Archives here:
Mark Lanegan: August 1995
Local Band: Sweet Loretta