This is an mp3 blog attempting to document the gross amount of music I listen to. About once a day, I'll post something I like. If you're a copyright holder on anything I host, get in touch, and we'll settle things in a steel cage instead of a courtroom.

Tuesday, May 29, 2007

Gettin' yer ya-yas out with JP McDermott and Western Bop

Sorry it took so damned long to get this up, but life happens outside the internet sometimes, kids. You should learn this. Or maybe you shouldn't, since our economy seems to be heading towards us sitting inside typing while third-world types do all the heavy lifting.

Of course, since I have so much angst to blow off on the weekend (my co-workers are awesome, but working a government job leads to dealing with dumbasses of all stripes - after 40 hours of this, some steam needs venting), it helps to have a killer bar with a rad beer list and awesome entertainment.

While the Quarry House - if you ain't been, get off your freakin' ass already - usually offers enjoyable groups, none beat their twice-monthly hostings of the inimitable J.P. McDermott and Western Bop. Those cats SLAY. If I had my dancin' partner (who had to bow out at the last second) and I hadn't been still recovering from the ravages of my death flu, I woulda been up there boogying with the rest of the enthused patrons. This being DC, it's hard to get a crowd to do anything but pose, but J.P. and his band really grabbed your attention and shook it by the collar. When they ripped into "Marie, Marie" by the Blasters, you couldn't do anything but pay attention. They rocked without forgetting to roll, which is way more the fuck more important than half of the boring art students armed with instruments who populate this area seem to think.

As much as I love seeing shaggy-haired dudes stab their guitars with screwdrivers 'cause they listened to one too many Sonic Youth records, seeing a man like Bob Newscaster kick out the jams on an electric guitar with a fucking boogie still kicks, y'all. That being said, J.P. does what few rock musicians of any era can do, which is sing above the din. His voice cuts across the racket rock'n'roll, and is probably the most finely tuned instrument in the band. Dudes like him prove that while hollering is fine, being able to sing makes that much more of a difference - s'why I keep buying Johnny Burnette demo records to this day.

If you ever find yourself in Silver Spring on a Saturday night (and you should soon, since he's playing with the effing Ambitions and Buck Forty Nine, who feature members of the freaking Hall Monitors, the best local band in recent memory), be sure to plunk down your six dollars and settle in for a few sets of the best local rockabilly. It'll make you drink and dance the baby, and who could ask for a better weekend?

2 Comments:

Blogger Hall said...

quarry house fucking rules

9:35 AM

 
Blogger Matt Ramone said...

If truer words were ever spoken, I don't wanna hear 'em.

9:38 AM

 

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