The Reverend Horton Heat and MUCH MORE on the Stars Align tour (with Dale Watson, Jason D. Williams, and Jimmy Dale Richardson) at the Rickshaw, March 26, 2024

All photos by me, all rights reserved, etc.

So: Dale Watson. How did I not know this man's music before tonight?

Actually, I know why: I know jack shit about country music. I mean, sure, Johnny Cash, Lucinda Williams, Guy Clark, Steve Earle, Townes van Zandt and... uh... what other country music do I listen to? Is Gillian Welch country or folk? I don't even know, but it's sure not the sort of roadhouse shitkicker outlaw country that Watson's music descends from, so I'm not sure it counts. I mean, I have a Bob Wills record and a bunch of Petunias. A Merle Haggard somewhere, and a Hank Williams' Greatest Hits (a 2LP variety, at that). Five whole Marty Robbins albums, and -- please don't laugh -- I might even have a Willie somewhere. I'm not a total vulgarian, a complete loss, an uncivilized brute. But the extent of my knowledge of country music stops way before we get to Dale Watson. 

Or would have, if it hadn't been for tonight's show at the Rickshaw, where the Reverend Horton Heat -- AKA Jim Heath -- came out on stage, at one point, to cheerlead for his touring partner, describing Watson as the greatest living country singer. 

He's probably right; if there are better, I sure don't know them. My father would have loved this man's set. Actually, I found myself thinking of my father a lot this evening; as Watson sang a dark, moody tune about coal miners in Hazard, Kentucky, I recalled that my paternal grandfather worked in the mines in Nova Scotia. I imagined my Dad listening to "I Lie When I Drink (and I Drink a Lot)" and tapping his toe (he was a big fan of Tom T. Hall's "I Like Beer" and he would have appreciated Watson's constant Lone Star jokes; Watson would pause between songs to play the theme music for his favourite beer then take a sip of the Pabst he was nursing or the tequila someone brought him and smile for an imaginary camera, like it had all been a Lone Star ad, except without the Lone Star. It reminded me, weirdly, of David M. and his Gorgo ads, in fact). Hell, Dale even had similar hair to my father... white, combed back... 

He told a pretty great joke, too, about a parrot from the actual whorehouse (as Watson called it) that inspired the film The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas, the Chicken Ranch, just outside LaGrange. Said joke introduced a song by Watson about said whorehouse: a song that incorporated a bit of a relevant ZZ Top song, with Watson just vocalizing, not really singing any discernible words, commenting as he strummed that he had no idea what the actual lyrics were. No story I could recount now would do Watson's joke justice. I can't whistle with my fucked up tongue, either, so telling the story like he told it is out, too, if you know me in person. So I hope you were already there to hear it yourself (or get another chance). When was the last time someone told a joke at a show that you laughed aloud at?

Suffice to say, I have been to a LOT of concerts since my father died in 2009, and this is the first one I can recall wishing he could have been there for. I would have bought Starvation Box if they had had it at the merch table. Is it "Nothingville" that exists as a short snippet from the Elvis Comeback Special?

Seems to be. Wish I'd recorded the story to that.  Is that co-written by the same Mac Davis who did "Hard to be Humble"...?  I still have my father's copy -- actually a gift I gave him --  of that Comeback Special on DVD. It's great indeed. My Dad's the only reason I ever saw Johnny Cash live, too, so there's that.

Then Jason D. Williams--- Heath introduced him as the last man to be signed to Sun Records -- came out and did a set of genre-spanning, virtuosic piano mostly in a boogie-woogie/ Jerry Lee Lewis-kinda vein, but folding in references to everything from 80's new wave (for one song, anyhow) to "Hava Nagila," with the odd flourish that bordered on the classical. Some spiky-haired female-presenting stranger (how does one do that correctly, these days? Ask the stranger what their pronouns are so you can write about them later, without misgendering them?) turned to me and said "his fingerwork is amazing."  Some other dude (with entirely unambiguous gender presentation), who I didn't know from Adam, grabbed and hugged me and yelled in my face about how amazing Williams was, too: 

"Did you know him before tonight?" I shouted. 

"No!" 

"Me neither!" 

"It's all due to Jim Heath! Woooo!" (That guy was a bit loud, actually, but he sure made his enthusiasm known). 

Ends up I had more conversations with strangers about how great the night was than is usual (also including a guy in a Rubes t-shirt: "Is Tony here?" "I don't know!"). I even got some laughs from the guys in the lineup for the men's room, who were all muttering about how usually it's the ladies' that gets backed up, when I asked, "Do you mind if I shoot a picture of y'all?"

Someone threw the goats. 

So that was the kind of room it was. Williams got a laugh by thanking us all for coming out to support the Reverend, quipping that he knew it was him that we were there to see: "I'm just a surprise." Later I shook his hand at told him he had been a surprise indeed. 

I don't have much to report about the Reverend himself, mind you  I was very pleased that, after closing the main set with a cover of "Ace of Spades," Heath brought Williams and Watson out to share a few songs with him (ending in actual Jerry Lee Lewis stuff, for the most part); and pleased that my phone had just enough room to accommodate a song or so. I had hoped I could loop Jim in for a short chat for a magazine article (which I had not prearranged; inspiration just struck). Alas, he was slammed for time, but he DID take a minute to sign a couple records for me and chat with a few other fans. About my only quibble was that he didn't do a slow song tonight, which is almost always the part of his sets I enjoy the most; I think my single favourite song from any of the four shows of his I've seen was "Loaded Gun," from the first (or second?) time he played the Rickshaw, around the time of Rev. But he got me dancing to "Big Little Baby" and one or two others, and he turned me on to Dale Watson and Jason D. Williams, who I never would have seen otherwise. So it was a VERY rewarding, enjoyable night...

...Which I haven't completely finished telling you about, because there was one other musical artist who took the stage this evening, singing a song about getting high, I think, with the Reverend's trio backing him: a youngish fella, also on the Rev's label, Fun-Guy Records, named Jimmy Dale (he also appears to be billed as Jimmy Dale Richardson; It's a bit confusing to have a Jim and a Dale and a Jimmy Dale, and then a Jason D, all on the same bill!). I was of a mind to buy SOMETHING, especially if it justified getting my records signed, and the guy had a fun-looking ten inch for sale... but then I realized that, during his set, good as it was, he was making a kind of music I just don't listen to, much, a sort of vintage rock'n roll that, however good it is, is just not really my thing. I mean, I break out my Eddie Cochran record once every three years or so, you know? But I wanted to buy a record -- especially since the guy would have paid customs on getting them across the border, regardless if they sold, and since I'd hazard a guess he might have been gettin' paid mostly in merch sales and "exposure;" it seemed like it would be a meaningful gesture of support (and there was no Dale Watson stuff, so what else was I gonna do?). 

So there I was, wanting to buy a record, but not wanting to own it or listen to it, which posed a quandary until I spied scene stalwart and rockabilly/ roots rock obsessive Talesha dancing away up at the front... As the last song ended, I zipped through the crowd to where she was. "Talesha, I didn't get you a birthday present!" (I actually HAD GONE to her birthday event last year, with former Ray Condo sideman Jimmy Roy leading a small band). "Come here, I want to buy you a record!" 

She seemed to take it all in stride. I got Jimmy Dale (or is it just Jimmy? We don't do the two-first-names thing here so much) to sign it to her and pose for a photo (she did think his song had been excellent; this kind of music is far more her thing than mine, so I was very happy).

And now I'm broke til payday (but feelin' all right). Hey, that sounds like a country song, right there. 

Thanks again, Jim!