Kid just loves him some cows (komos) wrote,
Kid just loves him some cows

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Gonna Eat Your Spit Curl, Girl

Drew and I went to the Burren Friday to escape a night of almost certain boredom (me) and geekiness (him). Initially, we went in thinking that we could have some beer and pretend to be social for a bit. As we were sitting there swilling Harp, though, we found ourselves in the back room waiting for the band to come on. This was largely a result of our inertia, but also partly because we kept catching sight of a young woman in pigtails who was in process of setting up for the band. She was cute, but there was something that was peculiar about that. Her hair was just so, her jeans cut tight and low enough to give a tease of midriff, her tank fit to accentuate and flatter her. While none of these things was remarkable in and of themselves, the whole gave off a sense of planning, that everything had a place and was meant to elicit a desired effect.

We sat there trying to figure out just exactly what her story was, but as she started handling one of the guitars (a large-ish rockabilly-style offering) with a particular care and ease, we figured that she was actually part of the band. After all of the lead in, we decided that we just had to stay.

Ten o’clock hit, and just before they went on, she put on one of those floppy, oversized caps straight out of the 1970’s, and suddenly the tableau was complete. The hat made one of her lose curls fall forward on her cheek, and you know, that was the perfect final touch to A LOOK. There was an initial impulse to giggle at her for being so calculated and maybe even a little pretentious...
What? I can’t be a drunken ass even once in my life? Alright, fine... we were really just making fun of ourselves for being so hopelessly outclassed. We were also talking about forming a band that would be something of Tenacious D meets American roots music. Considering that neither of us plays and may not actually have any talent, you can glean some idea of just how ridiculous we were being.
... but we couldn’t because she started to play. She moved like Carlos Santana, and while I don’t think that she’s achieved his level of mastery over the instrument, she was good. She was sell-your-soul-at-the-crossroads good.

No, really.

They started out the set with a piece that had that sloppy 1960’s garage/surf sound, played some blues, and then some more blues. They had a guy who was aptly named "Uncle Moose" get up and do Johnny Cash’s Folsom Prison as sung by Elvis. At one point, the rest of the band cleared off while she played "swamp guitar" while the lead belted out in a low-delta style.

Sometime after we heard her singing harmony and just before "swamp guitar," we decided that there must be some supernatural influence that had provided her with such remarkable powers. Of course, in our drunken state, the best we could come up with was that her spit curl was the seat of this power, and that if somehow one of us could consume this lock of hair, he would become a really together, talented musician.


Did I mention that she was good?

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