Local Bar Update / The Boys Consider Recent Concert Reviews

It has recently come to the LC's attention that Larryville institution, Coyote's, one of the few places to consistently play host to country music and two-stepping, has come under new ownership and changed its name to something considerably duller: 23rd Street Roadhouse. Ads in local publications, however, stress a continued devotion to redneck music, as well as drink specials such as "The Shit Kicker," leading us to believe that the venue is still one of the likeliest places in town for an ass-whipping. But will the legendary Saturday wet T-shirt contests continue? Let's hope so. ("Wet breasts are erotic" --Chip).

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Sadly, the boys can't make it to every important show in Larryville or KC, primarily because Richard only goes to the Replay and Chip, after a bad experience at the Barrel House piano bar, refuses to pay anyone for music.

Luckily, the Pitch, especially, keeps us all well-informed of what's going down on the local scene. Let's take a look.

First off, local Larryville record label Chomp Womp has taken to hosting mysterious "family nights" at the TapRoom. But the Pitch lets us know some of what's been happening there:

"Chomp Womp accomplice Lacy Myers has been baking cakes, typically in the shape of dinosaurs. Sometimes she and her friends sneak over to the neighboring Sandbar to grab shark toys and pass them out. Myers brought a life-size Hannah Montana poster to the last Family Night, and people wrote dirty things in an adjacent speech bubble...Family Night has also been known to spawn bad KISS makeup and encounters with a mysterious character named Bramblethrash, which might either be a band or a toy, I couldn't really tell based on Gibson's description."

Franz Ferdinand recently graced the stage at the Beaumont. Was it awesome?

"Last night proved they can put on the plaid and make the midwest dance to songs inspired by French cinema and homoerotic attraction." (Pitch).

Chip: "If I had been there, I assure you that I would have stood quietly, with my arms crossed, wearing an expression of mild disapproval."

And finally, Uncle Neil made it to the Sprint Center this week after cancelling a poorly scheduled Election Night show there last year. Did he spend the evening regaling the crowd with his new album, which is entirely devoted to the joys of electric cars? Or did he melt everyone's faces, motherfucking Crazy Horse-style? Let's see.

"Neil pulled out all the stops on a cover of the Beatles' "Day in the Life." It was goddamn life affirming... and at its raucous, improvisatory climax, he shouldered off his righteous, fucked-up black Les Paul and began ripping the strings out of the beast, whipping the pickups with the strings' beaded ends, creating a feedback storm that sounded like a skyscraper collapsing in slow motion. And then, he set the guitar on its stand and casually walked behind his cargo of still-humming amps and stepped behind the vibraphone his wife had been playing, way up at the back of the stage. He picked up the mallets, plunked out a couple of finishing chords, and flashed a peace sign to everyone in the house." (Pitch).

Richard: "At the Replay, we prefer Built to Spill's version of 'Cortez the Killer.'"