This one time, Brian Setzer was doing blow with Eddie Van Halen.
I don't know if that's true, though a reverend told me and a bunch of others the story. It was the Reverend Horton Heat. To be fair, he didn't know if it was true, either, but "I start all my stories that way," he said. "Gets people to pay attention."
Why worry about a story?
This one time, Brian Setzer was doing blow with Eddie Van Halen and, honey, did you pay the mortgage?
This one time, Brian Setzer was doing blow with Eddie Van Halen and, remember Timmy, always look both ways before crossing the street.
This one time, Brian Setzer was doing blow with Eddie Van Halen and, today on Wall Street, stocks took a sharp dive on the news that no one has a job.
It is a tested and trusted formula: Famous Person + (verb) + (drug) + Famous Person = Attention.
The story, as explained by Heath: This one time, Brian Setzer was (allegedly) doing blow with Eruption">Eddie Van Halen, picking away on the guitar, and frustrating the bejeezus out of EVH, because EVH couldn't pick like Setzer. Then Eddie, allegedly, just gave up when the Stray Cats' bass player showed up, and could pick it nearly as well as Setzer, allegedly.
The moral of the sermon? Be careful who you label a god.
(Pause for applause.)
The Rev was actually full of great advice and life lessons last night at the Wonder Ballroom.
For example: "The first thing they teach you in kindergarten is, Don't throw stuff. The first thing they teach you in college is, Don't waste beer."
Therefore: Don't throw the beer cup at the stage. That means you, dude who threw beer cup at the stage.
This was after breaking out a new song about parenting, "Please Don't Take The Baby To the Liquor Store."
Also, if you're going to write a song about a cactus, make it the peyote cactus. Crowds react better when you reference peyote as opposed to, say, the saguaro cactus, of which there are none in Texas, where Jim Heath, the good reverend, is from.
Most importantly, if you're going to play rockabilly, punkabilly, billyabilly, whatever you want to call it, listen to Reverend Horton Heat. A friend who's seen them many times said the show started slow before picking up steam. Having never seen them before, I thought it started strong and got better.
The new stuff went over pretty well. The old stuff went over the way old stuff usually does when a beloved veteran group pulls into town. I imagine Jimbo Wallace most every night surfs his flame-topped stand-up bass, and that watching such a thing would never get old.
In fact, it's the kind of thing that'll get your attention every time.