Live review: Reverend Horton Heat @ the Bluebird Theater
By aaron collins | January 17th, 2008 | 18 comments
The Reverend went off on the audience at one point during his Bluebird set on Sunday. Photos by Laurie Scavo, heyreverb.com.
The crowd was spilling onto Colfax Avenue outside of the Bluebird Theater on Sunday night as they lined up to get into the sold out Reverend Horton Heat show.
Selling out the show was made more impressive by the $25 price tag. The group that came to see the Rev and opener Nashville Pussy was an amalgamation of greasers, punks, and well… older people. After nearly two decades of releasing music the RHH fan base has become as eclectic as its punk/rockabilly/lounge sound.
The rowdy, self-proclaimed trailer trash/Southern rock opener Nashville Pussy sounds exactly like you would image a band named Nashville Pussy would sound. Guitar player Ruyter Suys headbangs, thrashes, dive-bombs, and wails on her guitar, then takes her shirt off as the rest of the band (including Karen Cuda from Denver’s own Hemi Cuda) deep fries AC/DC. And like most things that come from a dinner, Nashville Pussy is more concerned with portion size and intensity than originality or subtlety.
After the first three songs the shtick wears thin and redundancy sets in, but that did not stop the kids in the front from throwing beers and getting wild. Toward the end of the set, right about the time Suys threw a beer into the crowd, it was obvious the packed Bluebird was turned up to ten, the crowd displaying that special intensity that seems native to Denver.
Unfortunately the Rev seemed less enthused than the crowd that just paid $25 to see him. After Nashville Pussy the stage seemed too big for the three members of Reverend Horton Heat. And the sound was much quieter than the blaring opener. Sure, there were the typical rockabilly gimmicks: Playing each other’s instruments, the inevitable standing on the upright bass, etc. But that night RHH was not going to take the crowd where they wanted to go.
After the first five songs, including one of their first hits, “400 Bucks,” someone at the front of the stage messed up the Rev’s peddle board, a beer was thrown, then the lights went dark. After a four-to-five minute technical break, a pissed off Rev got back on the microphone then sailed into a tirade.
“I have wondered what type of asshole throws beer, and I figured it out, it’s rich kids,” he stated, with mixed reaction from the crowd. That continued for three more minutes as the energy in the room went from happily-crazed to a little aggressive. As the band started back into the set the bouncers got more active. I personally saw three kids ejected from the show throughout the rest of the night.
At the end of the set, Jello Biafra, who had been bouncing around the side stage during the show, came out and sang some Black Flag covers. Then Blain Cartwright, the singer for Nashville Pussy, came out and sang “Ace of Spades” by Motorhead.
The show was exactly what was advertised — two legendary cult bands doing what they have been doing for years. But after the lecture by Reverend Horton Heat I felt that the potential for a really great show had been lost. It is disappointing to see someone who has made a living off the idea of not taking himself seriously take himself too seriously, and then get angry at his audience for staying the same.
On my way out I thought about the kind of kid that spends $25 dollars to see Reverend Horton Heat at the Bluebird. Hey Rev, turns out, they’re rich kids.
Check out more of Laurie’s photos:
Check out more of Reverb contributor Laurie Scavo’s photography.
Writer Aaron Collins sings in the Denver band Machine Gun Blues.
Loading ...
