The theater was max-capacity, completely sold out all three nights which consisted of an impressive line-up of Deke Dickerson, Nekromantix, and Reverend Horton Heat. Attending the second show out of the three, I walked in just as Nekromantix took the stage. There was already a mosh pit in full force. "It's on!" I thought to myself. Maneuvering through this crowd was going to be a tricky one as The Roxy Theater doesn't have a designated photo/press pit and I HATE shooting from the stage. Their lighting is so incredible for such a small venue, it's worth it to get squashed and elbowed in the jaw. I can't even remember the last time I listened to Nekromantix, but Kim Nekroman's stage presence was just as I remembered; spooky, animated, and illustrious - just like his iconic coffin bass that casts a shadow over everyone in the front row. I felt like I was watching a horror cartoon and I dug it (like a grave).
Gentleman (and ladies)- START. YOUR. ENGINES. The Dallas-based group who coined the term "punkabilly" is upon us y'all, and I call shotgun! The curtains opened and Christ himself introduces the band. -Yep, you read that correctly- Jesus. A bright red glowing "REV" sign flickers on and out walks Jim Heath, Jimbo Wallace, and Scott Churchilla. The room erupts with a loud roar of cheers and whistles. Consider our engines revved. For those who didn't quite get their fill of Kim, he came out as a guest for "Psychobilly Freakout". The rest of their set was nothing short of the expected: high-octane rock n roll with spit-whiskey-in-your-face undertones. Jim Heath effortlessly strums his Gretsch without missing a chord. Jimbo Wallace slaps his bass like it misbehaved, and Scott Churchilla doesn't miss a beat. Age is but a number, and as seasoned as they may be, they look and sound as if they've aged like a fine whiskey; smooth, but with a bite. They really brought it home. Again.
