~5/1/02-The Reverend Horton Heat, Nashville Pussy, and Tiger Army at the Roseland Theater-PDX~

Monday the 29th I headed to Portland to catch the Reverend Horton Heat at the Roseland Theatre. It'd been quite some time since I'd last caught the Rev. several years ago when he played in Eugene with Los Mex Pistols. That was a killer show, and I decided that since he was having Tiger Army open I couldn't miss this one. I headed up, and decided to wander around and look at record stores. Hitting the new Ozone on Burnside I've decided that they now suck ass. Once upon a time this store fucking ruled, they had a huge selection of some of the best independent music out there, a decent batch of used cd's, and more. Now it's like they're trying to be some corporate store who's "indie". And they're failing. Maybe my tastes are too high, or I'm just jaded on the staggering selection of small press stuff at my local record stores. 

SIDE RANT ALERT!!

(That was sarcasm by the way. But even with that sarcasm I still think you local kids should support the local record stores. Hit Boomtown and Ranch when you want to try to find something first. Then hit Target or Fred Meyers. And if you buy a goddamned thing from Sam Goody you should know that you suck. Don't come into my store with your Sam Goody bag and expect me to think highly of you, especially if you're "punk". Punk isn't shopping at Sam "we rip you off because we're a giant corporate piece of shit store with a shitty selection" Goody. Fred Meyers on the other hand may be a giant corporation, but they're great about supporting and selling lesser known artists, and especially Northwest artists. It's amazing to me that I found And You Will Know Us By The Trail Of Dead, and Nekromantix, and some Sleater Kinney at a Fred Meyers when my local record store didn't have any.)

Grabbing a burrito with my show buddy Deirdre we headed down to the Roseland to see if a line was forming. And lo, there was. And who was at the front of it but some kids from Bend. Taking my place a in line I suddenly felt like perhaps I had some bad sour cream. My stomach was making weird noises, and something wanted out. The entrance to the Roseland had dual security gates set up, one for the fellas, and one for the ladies. I think that they were set to go off EVERY time that someone walked through, forcing the staff to then pat each and every person down. Even taking literally everything out of my pockets it still beeped when I went through the gates. (I've got bad luck with these things, just ask me about the time at the airport with a pocket full of bullets.) I like watching security guys. For some reason it cracks me up to see them ignore some things, while taking away a poor kids bag of Apple-Os. At least they were pretty friendly about everything. As we entered Tiger Army was just finishing up their sound check before leaving to do whatever rock stars do before playing. I personally think they knit, drink tea, and get blowjobs from albino midgets they pack around with them in standing bass cases. We were part of the first dozen people in the door, and even though we could have secured a decent place right in front I decided to hit the right part of the stage. This was due to two facts: that I don't like it when people touch me unless they're a cute chick, and I felt like was going to puke. Feeling ill I hit the can, and the Roseland keeps their Men's restroom decently clean. (Or I was the first one to puke in it that day) This is a plus to ANY venue. Being sober means I can't usually ignore the assorted fluids I'd be stepping in when I piss. When one is drunk it's easy to ignore them and do your duty. Feeling much better I made my way back to my spot and was kind of let down to see how empty the venue was. Tiger Army kicked ass as usual, although I wasn't quite as impressed with them as I was at the show they headlined earlier this year. Apart from the rabid Tiger Army fans, which there weren't many, the crowd just didn't seem too into their stuff. A few rude bastards even booed and called for Nashville Pussy to come on. TA took notice of this I'm sure, but were still really cool. 

Nashville Pussy was up next, and I'm not a huge fan of their music. One can only hear songs about drugs and drinking so many times before the theme gets old. But these guys know how to put on a show. Simultaneous kicks from the gals on bass and guitar, lots of moving around the stage, beer flung into the audience. Fun stuff. The guitar player bangs her head like a woman posssed, and hops around the stage manically. The fact that she was wearing tight leather pants, and stripped to her bra a few songs into it meant that most male eyes in the house were glued to her. At one point the lead poured Budweiser all over her and then proceeded to hold the bottle while she gave it quite the oral going over. Oh, and they played their instruments very well. I was pretty impressed. The crowd had really started to fill in at this point, and was really into them. The lead singer was pretty funny. At one point he was telling us that the "One and ONLY bad thing with drugs is that they turn assholes into SUPER-assholes." So true, so true.

By this point the balconies of the venue were chock full of adults sipping beer, and the general admission area was starting to get full too. But strangely it wasn't as packed up close as I expected. At least there wasn't that overall feeling of being crushed by the hundreds behind you as they try to take your place at the front. The Rev, Jimbo, and their drummer Scott finally came onstage, to the screams from the crowd. The Rev was dressed to the nines in a beautiful flaming suit, and Jimbos custom flame paint job on his standing bass matched the theme quite nicely. The Rev rules. These guys play extremely well together, and put on a killer show. The boys are all masters of their instruments, and this was obvious when the Rev and Jimbo started playing with one hand on each others instruments. At one point some bastard threw what looked like a shoe to me, and it hit the Rev right in the face. Un-phased he continued playing without so much as skipping a beat. Panties and bras were also thrown on stage, and happily hung from their microphone stands by Jimbo. Taking occasional breaks from singing tunes from throughout their 7 album lineup the boys would down shots of Jaegermeister, talk about how beautiful the Portland women were, and go to the sides to flirt with the groupies. 

Now, I said before that Nashville Pussy tends to sing about the same things over and over again, and I'll be the first to admit that the same can be said for The Revs lyrics. As the man himself says:' "If you listen to the band's catalog, you might say there are a few recurring themes found in our songs: beer, gin and tonic, whiskey, cocaine, tequila, martinis, marijuana, cigarettes, cars, more beer, pretty women, sermons, cats and dogs, the devil, Texas, and Jimbo. Not to mention steak and dildos. All the good things in life." - Jim Heath, a.k.a. the Reverend Horton Heat' But even still they make each song sound different, and always manage to please the crowd. Overall this was a great show, and I'm always happy when I get to puke someplace new.