One Crazy Texan

One Crazy Texan, One Hot Phoenix Night

"Jesse Dayton Live"

The first time I tried to see Jesse Dayton live, I mixed up the times and ended up missing him. The webmaster who answers his e-mail was very friendly when I wrote, and let me know Jesse would be back through in April, probably at Nita's Hideaway, a little place tucked up in an industrial part of town where such folk as Ralph Stanley have played.

Eagerly I checked Jesse's site every so often to see when the dates would be up, and finally, they were. Only he was scheduled at a place I'd never heard of: Big Fish Sports Pub.

There was no information on this place at the website link, other than the address, and clicking the individual bar link indicated there only got me to a "you are not authorized to view this site" warning, so I just drove there to check it out. I recognized the strip it was in -- just a few blocks from the office where I used to work, and next to my favorite used records (yes, I said records) store. Cool. I called the day of the show to find out time and cover charge -- a terse recording informed me that tonight's bill was Supersuckers, Jesse Dayton Band, and Truckers on Speed, $15.00 at the door, goodbye. I assumed 9-ish, since that's when most bar shows start.

When I arrived at the Big Fish Sports Pub and entered, the guys taking the money at the door looked at me like I'd landed from another planet. Eventually, bemused, they took my $15.00 and strapped an orange band on my wrist. As soon as I got all the way inside, I began to realize WHY the odd looks (and the orange wristband).

This was no country bar. This was an alt-rock/punk bar, largely populated with a mid-20's Goth crowd, in their ripped Metal t-shirts, piercings, tattoos, and black lipstick. This explained the radio van outside from The Edge radio (alternative). Me and my Wrangler shirt and boots (not to mention my nearly 40-something self) must have seemed a trifle bizarre to the guys up front. In addition, there were only about fifteen or so bar stools at the bar, and no other place to sit down at all. The small floor was solid slab concrete, with a small raised dais for the band as well as a caged area for the underage patrons (purple wristbands) and merchandise hawkers. The entire establishment was probably around 35 yards square (give or take). It was pretty well-packed for a Monday night, and when local favorites Truckers on Speed played, I assumed most of the audience was there for them.

Truckers on Speed is probably a pretty awesome little band. I say "probably" because, unfortunately, the sound system at Big Fish leaves a whole lot to be desired. I couldn't understand a word the lead singer said, although his voice was better than average and his guitar playing was excellent. His lead guitarist, a bespectacled, mild-looking fellow, gave out some terrific chops. Their music was hot-shot hard rock, southern-fried ala Skynard, and I rather liked several of their songs, although my ears were starting to buzz uncomfortably from the terrible sound system.

I went into the cage area toward the end of their set to check out the t-shirts; over 98% of the merchandise available was for the Supersuckers. And now I have to display my awesome lack of knowledge: I thought Jesse was the headliner! Of course, since I get my information from HIS page, and they list him first, I suppose that accounts for it. Nevertheless, I appeared to be the only Jesse Dayton fan in attendance -- when I asked for the prices on Jesse's "Hey Nashvegas!" shirts, it took a moment for the information to sink in to the seller and then I was handed a t-shirt in a size so small it may have comfortably fit a 12-year-old. There were no sizes above "SM," in either available style, and so I gave up and decided I'd order mine from the website. They appeared to have exactly one box of Jesse's merchandise (the seller allowed me to rifle through it myself), and apparently hadn't expected to sell much (and obviously not to any adults).

But the bad sound system and the standing on the hard concrete floor in cowboy boots was starting to tell on my poor old self, so in a way I was very glad to discover that Jesse would be playing the middle set. And once he came on, I stopped the mental griping and just enjoyed the show.

Jesse powered to the little stage and strapped on his Fender, and I watched this pure, hard-core crazy Texan introduce real country music to a crowd of 20-something Goths and they lapped it up and begged for more. The very mellow Monday night audience swelled to fill the little room. Jesse's razor-edged voice managed to overcome the harsh system, and he can flat-out play the living blue blazes out of that Stratocaster. He tore up that little stage, daring anyone to dislike country music; he paused to speak out vehemently against the mainstream, his eyes blazing with defiant glee as he dared anyone to even consider line-dancing (although to be honest, I would guess some of those kids wouldn't know a line dance if it bit 'em on the butt). There was at least one other real country fan out in the audience, because I wasn't the only one who whooped when Jesse made that comment -- but it was a dern site quieter than when he ordered four shots of Jim Beam for him and the band, which caused a lot of cheering and applause.

He played mostly songs I didn't know, either new or from his other two albums, and nothing at all from "Hey Nashvegas!" which surprised me somewhat, and several covers. His bold (and impressive) cover of "The Grand Tour" was extraordinary; his heartfelt tribute to Waylon Jennings was touching, as he knew Waylon had passed away not too far from where we were standing (and had started right here in the Valley). Jesse played "Lonesome, On'ry, & Mean" to an audience that was, for the most part, too young to know what he meant by J.D.'s (which is long gone), but who appeared to love the music.

Jesse certainly knew his crowd, and played to their tastes, firing up rowdy numbers about smokin' (Willie's style, so to speak), and drinkin' and gettin' loud; however, an awesome rendition of "Folsom Prison Blues" didn't seem do much for 'em. But I, at least, came away knowing I'm going to be ordering the Jesse CDs I don't have; I hope he sold a couple discs to some of that crowd, who I also hope think differently when they hear the words "country music."

I probably would have liked the Supersuckers, but I didn't stick around after Jesse made his farewells and headed back to his RV. It was, after all, Monday night, and like it or not, I'm an old cowgirl and was not up to more head-banging amp buzzing.

Still, all in all, I was more than favorably impressed and know I'll see Jesse again when he comes through Phoenix. I just hope he plays a honky-tonk like Rockin' Horse or Mr. Lucky's (danged shame Toolie's closed down a couple years ago), or even back to the "Home of the Blues" Rhythm Room, because I just didn't think Jesse's style of country blues, even revved to a fever pitch, really suited the room. But it was worth it to see some young rockers get a taste of what country music is really all about. Go see Jesse if he blazes through your town (check out his tour schedule at www.jessedayton.com ). Just be prepared to get a little rowdy. Even on Monday.

Kathy Coleman Take Country Back April 2002

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