Inside the main room, the crowd was clearly segregated. The audience in the back, largely seated, looked like they were on a field trip from a retirement home, while the front of the room, younger and standing, appeared to be auditioning for a hipster version of Grease (we love the retro-rockabilly crowd who, unlike the usual scenesters, are willing to put a little effort into their enthusiasms and dress the part).
Wanda, 73 and still feisty, took the stage promptly at nine (we enjoy a punctual performance for a change!), and both contingents in the crowd were equally appreciative of the old material (classics like "Fujiyama Mama") and the new material from the Jack White-produced album (her cover of Amy Winehouse's You Know I'm No Good gave Chip a boner despite being sung by someone who looked a little like his grandmother: "Upstairs in bed, with my ex boy, He's in a place, but I can't get joy.").
"Getting Wanda to sing the Winehouse song is the greatest trick Jack White's ever pulled," remarked our friend King Tosser, who's written about Jackson in his
book Rebels Wit Attitude :
"In reaction to the frustration created by the pressures to conform to new patriarchal renstraints, the celebratory roars and proto-feminist assertiveness of Big Mama Thornton and Wanda Jackson represented trailblazing voices of emancipation, symbolically suggesting a female identity thwarted by social and sexual containment but always liable to break free." --King Tosser, Rebels Wit Attitude
Hipsters can snark all they want about Jack White, but we're personally glad he's excavating and celebrating the worthy careers of Loretta Lynn and Wanda Jackson. Who's next? Is Skeeter Davis still alive?
Throughout the evening, the audience was more than willing to indulge Jackson's sometimes rambling between-song musings about making out with Elvis (which she enjoyed) and finding Jesus (actually, our atheist friends weren't too indulgent of that story, but perhaps they should take heed, as Judgment Day is slated for Saturday).
Concert verdict: four out of four New Belgium beers and a Viagra.
For the @nuthousepunks review, complete with cool photos and setlist, head here
We tend to shell out for whatever blockbuster horseshit that Hollywood dishes out each summer, but we won't be giving our cash to the fourth installment of the Pirates franchise. Three was plenty. Three was too fucking much in its own right. Here's our favorite slamming of Pirates 4 thus far, from AICN's Mr. Beaks:
"PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN: ON STRANGER TIDES is the awe-deadening nadir of studio tentpole filmmaking, a soulless reconstitution of marketable elements in search of box office plunder."
While you all sit around in your 3D glasses watching Depp (sleep)walk the plank one more time, we'll be in the theater next door, studying Jodie Foster's Beaver.