A night in Nuremberg ... at the 930.

I'd seen Hank III once a few years ago under some heavy devil influence and really liked the first act but split when the metal poured forth.

Kelly and I have been wanting to see some good country for awhile so when the show appeared in the 930 schedule I grabbed two tickets. She had heard of him but only heard the couple songs I blipped her way. So, we were looking forward to the show. Kelly is a fan of "real" country. People like Dock Boggs, the Carter Family, etc. fill her music collection, among others. I, the other hand, only know I don't like the "new" country and had never been properly exposed to it so I figured Hank III was as close as you got as far as live goes, if nothing else.

Then we walked into the room. The whole feel of the 930 wasn't emitting the steam that people need to drink a little too much to lose, no, there was this sense of an anger that was collective, and even worse, hip. It was like the club was transformed into a male "Temple of 22 chromosomers" whose only intent was to drink past reason and hurt. Could be an ass-kicking, could be a rape. The mob mentality simmered throughout the night, waiting for the spark that would set it free. We are a 100% convinced that someone got dosed and raped.

Kelly posted her thoughts about Hank, the show and what its all about on her blog. We, on the other hand, left the show early, past the gutter punks with their American Spirit consumption, got in the car and purified the air with some Dock Boggs.