“As the riders leaned on by him, he heard one call his name
If you want to save your soul from hell a-riding on our range
Then cowboy change your ways today or with us, you will ride
Tryin' to catch the devil herd across these endless skies”
Stan Jones
Danny and the Juniors belted out that Rock and Roll is here to stay and Pat Todd is bellowing out that everlasting battle cry with poise, tradition, and balls-out Duane Eddy twanging guitar.
Tumbleweed dustballs meandering down the dirty streets of Los Angeles as the silver spurs jingle, jangle, and jab with the sultry swagger of a lone cowpunk tipping his dark stetson over one squinting eye casting a shadow over his bristled, chiseled weather sun-soaked features.
A three-legged dog hobbles loyally aside vying for assurance and comradeship. The long journey in a well-worn pair of boots with one step forward and three steps back yearning and burning back the hand of time. A small tarnished silver flask in the bulletproof vest helps alleviate the nudnik monkey on the shoulder.
A quidnunc perches miles and miles away with large ears carefully placed on the hot sand awaiting the issued communique. There’s going to be a sin die showdown with Berry bending duck walk sweating smiling swagger full of sin, debauchery tumbling dice of temptation. A crash course to a jet horse hastening, hurtling red-eyed stallion steam evoked nostrils repeatedly stomping boondoggle bureaucracy and tipping an overfilled glass to the future of the better things in life Get your head off that tarnished, hand oil-stained bar and race with the devil in a Model T like a crass motherfucker ready to burst through the pearly gates and stake your claim to everlasting rock and roll.
This lazy cowgirl is still filled with piss and vinegar, gargling glass in a nubilous old man bar of hard knocks and knuckle dusting fisticuff bare hand blowouts. Smash the glass, slam a shot, and dance your mother fucking ass off.
Pat Todd should be a familiar name to all inhabitants of a meta-universe. Hard-working, roots rock and roll that will have your boots dancing off your feet before you can get your corn encrusted trotters onto that sawdust floorboard. Keeping the quagmire devoid of incoming projectiles behind Pat are Nick Alexander and Kevin Keller on guitars, Steven Vigh on bass, and Walter Phelan on drums. Former Sparks guitarist Earl Mankey (The Cramps, Concrete Blonde, The Beach Boys) manipulated the spinning knobs.
Rock and Roll with a twang of real country…no silicone-filled, aspartame induced, collagen butt injection fakery here…
8 Bottles of Beer out of 10
