Easy to forget how many slammin' songs X possess, if you haven't seen the group for a few decades. In this rescheduled 40-year revisitation of their debut album, "Los Angeles," X wanted to make sure the booster stuck.
The chilly night air warmed with the sight of 73-year-old guitarist Billy Zoom, grinning like a champ in the wake of cancer battles. Specs? Need 'em now. A bit wobbly? Latter-day Johnny Winter sat in a chair, and so did Zoom. Nothing unsteady about his axwork, though, as crisp and confident as ever. He even blew tenor sax on a couple of numbers, bringing the beef, the soul and the skill.
Though X happened along at a time when connoisseurs preferred slop with their gristle, the band's musicianship always ranked high. Drummer DJ Bonebrake proved it again, his flexible wrists executing accents with easy precision, his foot & snare clackin' down the punkabilly track. Remember: Half of X's first single (1978) was the calypsoid "Adult Books," and not just anyone can pull off that kind of switch. Bonebrake raised hell with his avant-garde vibraphone spotlight, too.
John Doe's bass may always have been the punkiest tool in X's shed, but his driving lines lacked nothing in accuracy. And what a voice, manly and unmistakable, especially when linked with Exene Cervenka's catty plaints, which have only melded more richly with Doe's moan over time. Whatever they had, it remains magic.
Songs that stuck out: the grinding "Nausea," the rollicking "In This House That I Call Home," the guilt-whining "White Girl," the marching "The New World," the clobbering "Los Angeles." And the phrasemanship: the orange nightgown, the endless rope, the burning trash.
A couple of sidemen pitched in on keys, guitar and bongos, and the vintage overlapping projections added artful jollies, but the show required no augmentations. Insert your own X wordplay here.
Auld X stagemates the Blasters opened with their reliable rockabilly set: "Marie Marie," "American Music," "Border Radio," all dem. Drummer Bill Bateman and bassist John Bazz rocked thumpier than ever, and Phil Alvin's reedy voice turned up the gas after a creaky start. We didn't miss Dave Alvin's guitar overmuch thanks to Keith Wyatt, who blazed the frets nonstop.
The colorful Danish rockabilly trio HorrorPops yearned to punch somebody in the face. Who could argue? An adjacent writer found them snoozable; a teenage kid only roused when standup bass filly Patricia Day, flat-topped guitarist Kim Nekroman and mohawked drummer Henrik Stendahl cranked up the noise. When it comes to 'billy revivals, each generation -- Yardbirds, Cramps, Blasters, Stray Cats, Horton Heat -- demands its own. Fists up.
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PHOTO BY FUZZY BAROQUE.