Anyway, band sightings for this day included Satan’s Teardrops who blew me away with their psychobilly bizarreness. Just a great sound that’s heavy on the rockabilly rather than trying to be another Demented Are Go. They put me in the mind of a heavier Caravans, maybe. It should be noted the guitar player tied for first place in this years Crossroads guitar contest. Onward into the night, The Trip Daddys’ country-infused rockabilly tore me a new one, as Craig almost seemed to strangle his guitar in a frantic fury during the set - crazy fretwork for sure. Especially with the show-stopping extended solo on “As Long As It Rocks.” They also had Mike Leahy from their fellow St. Louis band, 7 Shot Screamers join him onstage to sing a couple songs... a great moment. Later on that same stage Flathead Mike and the Mercurys revved up my motor and put me in gear for a blissful collision with their lethal punk/psychobilly rhythms. They have a new drummer now and I was worried, but he completely kicked ass, and the band never seemed tighter or more fun to watch. At the same time, forcing me to run back and forth, Speed Crazy had quite a crowd in the Jailhouse as the trio pounded the eardrums of all that listened with Erica’s manic slap bass and Greg’s crazy eyes roving over the audience. The drummer Augie jumped into the crowd and was carried shortly before being dropped to the cement ground, ouch!

I didn’t catch The Needles either, but Ben did and he said they were quite good (although he can’t remember from his drunken stupor even what kind of music they played, he just thinks he remembers goodness). This was also the day I caught some burlesque shows which were kinda corny, but showed women-flesh nonetheless. Most of what I saw were well-proportioned large girls dancing around in their panties and whatnot, which is cool because not everyone needs to be a perfect ten. There was, however, a tall slender siren who covered herself in balloons and did an ode to Joey Ramone which was strangely compelling.

I also watched the Polyplush Cats and did not get into them. Part of the reason was the visual of when I walked into the Jailhouse and saw the skinny long-haired Slaughter type guy walking through the crowd. I’m not one to care much for image, though, so it couldn’t have been just that. It had to be the music too. HRW has a lot of great bands, but also has a lot of stuff I don’t get into. Like the bad southern metal bands, ick. The good thing is, though, if you don’t like a band you can go to two other stages and see better bands, wheee! But enough bad talk, onward to the good stuff!! I don’t remember much about where I was this night, as I was drinking and cavorting with so many fellow rock’n’roll cretins, but I do remember that The Mad Daddys were real good and Buzzsawyer rocked! Plus, last on the main stage was Thee Exit Wounds, who I hear have members of Demented Are Go. You definitely could hear the psycho coming through, as they delivered a super-intense set that peeled the flesh from our faces. The bass player played an electric upright, which I thought was pretty neat, and he’d run out into the chaotic crowd with it. The band just had great, high-octane stage presence that kept everyone from sagging into a drunken stupor at the end of the night.

This night my roomies and I had the pleasure of sharing our beds with The Last Call Brawlers. You see, they had no place to stay and the good people we are, let them stay for a small fee. And that fee was bestial sex and French fries all night - on command without complaints. I presided over them like a decadent Roman Empress as they fed me greasy foods and serviced my every need. Then I would flog them and smear their blood all over my heaving flesh before making them lick my lusting body clean.(1)"

Sunday morning kinda blew. I was ultra sore from all the sex the Brawlers had given me and hotel check out was at 11am. I woke up before everyone else and was suprized to see a real North Carolina Bobcat! I was shocked and amazed as the carnivorous feline walked dangerously close to my hotel door. I tried to wake others up to come and see this rare beauty! I ran out to feed it stale bologna and bananas but it quickly ran into the brush. Imagine my dissapointment when I proudly showed my roomies the pictures of the Bobcat that I took on the digital camera and they laughed at me, insisting it was only a stray housecat that had been hanging around the parking lot. Their mockeries still ringing in my ears like insidious demons chewing at my soul, I later joined those skeptics on a journey to some shitty café to have way over-priced pulled pork sandwiches and then head to the venue. There was this musical church thing going on so we couldn’t get inside and had to sit around outside for awhile. Finally those nasty church-goers left and we got to sit inside instead until Adam the First Real Man performed. There was a lot of down time on Sunday and I just wanted to rock. Adam was sort of fun and pretty lame at the same time, even though he did pull me onstage to demonstrate the powerful jaws of an animal trap with a carrot. His schtick was basically Jim Rose’s act with worse stage banter, no cast of fellow freaks, and over-done, over-hyped stunts. Later Gravy Boat was an excellent southern rock redneck band that I really got into; they even covered CCR, whoo hoo! Note: the guitar player tied for first place in the guitar contest. The Little White Pills played also downstairs and were fucking outstanding! They were punk rock'n'roll and covered GG Allin & Fear as well as cranking out many frenetic originals. A must see band! Photon Torpedoes had a pretty big crowd as well after them, but I wasn’t really feeling their music…I think it was the heat. They’re not a bad band at all but their humor wears a bit thin, as though they are trying too hard to be offensive or sleazy and come off kinda stupid instead. Probably like myself. Ben tells me that they covered a couple GG tunes also, and would switch singers and bass players a lot as they sang songs about their fixation on vagina.

Somewhere around that point it started to rain, oh glorious rain! It felt sooo good on this scorching weekend that I ran around in it for awhile and came back in the venue disguised as a wet rat. Hobart Willis, despite the odd name, rocked out really damn good and had me shaking my arse and feeling the groove, righteous! Co-host of the HRW event Dave Quick played whirlwind guitar as well as Tim, the guitarist from Trailer Bride. Speaking of Trailer Bride, vocalist Melissa Swingle’s punk duo The Moaners played Sunday, but they weren’t listed so I missed them, damn it!

Later in the evening Rocket 350 got the crowd roused up and encouraged beer can throwing and all around lewdness. A bunch of burly men grabbed the mic and sang along with Phil for several songs; this seemed to warm Phil’s heart. They played many great new songs with their new line-up, which is their best since the original R350. I’m looking forward to some new recordings soon.

A good-sized crowd was still around for the Kings Of Nuthin' who were the last gig of the event late Sunday evening. The crowd sang, cheered, danced and drank as the Kings caught instruments on fire and blew the roof off the building. They totally re-energized all us tired bastards and that was needed ‘cause we were driving back to Ohio after the set. The weekend was a fucking great time and I got to meet up with a bunch of old and new friends, see some new bands, and rock out with the old tried-and-true bands that I love. Can’t wait till next year. Maybe by then I’ll have the balls to tell Hillbilly Werewolf that I have fallen victim to bestial virility and charm and want to have a litter of buck-toothed werewolf babies. Does that make me weird?(2)" -Lisa Marie

2. General opinion is of an affirmative nature.

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