Lunch from October 16th to October 20th 2017.
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A special column giving a high-five to worthwhile articles and opinions all through the year...
...back to the time when garage rock met up with soul music.
Monday, 14.05.2012, 20:20
oh what a night...
Johnny Dowd (USA)
...there's pain there in his music, religion is a subject, there's some punk there also. A little bit of good ol' malignance and Jim Morrison is nothing but a dead guy in a French cemetary.
A sexagenerien and proud survivor of this age group; rabble rouser, earthy,
archaic, intense, for real like the hot Texas heat, original like the horns of a Texas Longhorn, Johnny D. comes stampeding into our corrall like a bull from
that same tribe that's been stung by a drunk scorpion. He's a Vietnam Veteran,
likes his whisky, moved furniture for a living, even tried his hand at husbandry
for all of two weeks... "and sings like a serial killer caught inside a vacuum
cleaner" some poet once observed. Maybe that's because he had to do the
vacuuming in those glorious two weeks...He generously lets his guitar crash and howl and do all the talking but also pulls in some funky organ and clacking drums. All this, like his life depended on it, and maybe it is, we're not the ones to judge. But there's pain there in his music, religion is a subject, there's some punk there also. A little bit of good ol' malignance and Jim Morrison is nothing but a dead guy in a French cemetary.

For us, he's a living legend and securely situated in our own Hall of Fame."That's the one album I wanted to do for a long time" he says, referring to "Wake Up The Snakes", where he guides us back to the time when garage rock met up with soul music. And it's as innovative as his first from 1997; that one found the way to successfully scramble country, blues and rock'n'roll. In his latest, he includes ripping bass lines, Farsifa organ and plenty of "My Baby left Me" poetry. Kinky Friedman, another notable Texan, famously sang "They don't make Jews like Jesus anymore". Sure as hell, they don't make Texans like Johnny Dowd anymore, either. (Just think of George W....). So cross the Mississihl like it's the Rio Grande for a rousing night of good ole' fun and music. Or better, wade it or swim it, now that the weather's warming up. Just don't forget to take that fish out of your ear.
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