Reverend Horton Heat
Unknown Hinson, Nashville Pussy, Lucky Tubb
Thu, December 1, 2016
Doors: 7:00 pm / Show: 8:00 pm
This event is 18 and over
The Sinclair is general admission standing room only. Tickets available at TICKETMASTER.COM, or by phone at 800-745-3000. No service charge on tickets purchased in person at The Sinclair Box office Wednesdays-Saturdays 12-7PM. Please note: box office is cash only.http://www.boweryboston.com/event/1222117/
Seeing REVEREND HORTON HEAT live is a transformative ex- perience. Flames come off the gui- tars. Heat singes your skin. There's nothing like the primal tribal rock & roll transfiguration of a Rever- end Horton Heat show. Jim be- comes a slicked-back 1950′s rock & roll shaman channeling Screamin' Jay Hawkins through Buddy Holly, while Jimbo incinerates the Stand- Up Bass. And then there are the "Heatettes". Those foxy rockabilly chicks dressed in poodle-skirts and cowboy boots slamming the night away. It's like being magically transported into a Teen Exploita- tion picture from the 1950′s that's currently taking place in the future.
Listening to the REVEREND HORTON HEAT is tantamount to injecting pure musical nitrous into the hot-rod engine of your heart. The Reverend's commandants are simple.
ROCK HARD, DRIVE FAST, AND LIVE TRUE.
And no band on this, or any other, planet rocks harder, drives faster, or lives truer than the Reverend Horton Heat. These "itinerant preachers" actually practice what they preach. They live their lives by the Gospel of Rock & Roll.
From the High-Octane Spaghet- ti-Western Wall of Sound in "Big Sky" — to the dark driving frenetic paranoia of "400 Bucks" – to the brain-melting Western Psyche- delic Garage purity of "Psychobilly Freakout" — The Rev's music is the perfect soundtrack to the Drive-In Movie of your life.
Jim Heath & Jimbo Wallace have chewed up more road than the Google Maps drivers. For twenty- five Psychobilly years, they have blazed an indelible, unforgettable, and meteoric trail across the globe with their unique blend of musical virtuosity, legendary showman- ship, and mythic imagery.
"Okay it's time for me to put this loaded gun down, jump in my Five- Oh Ford, and nurture my pig on the outskirts of Houston. I'll be bring- ing my love whip. See y'all later." - Carty Talkington Writer/Director
Rev your engines and catch the ser- mon on the road as it's preached by everybody's favorite Reverend. Don't forget to keep an eye out for the 11th studio album from REVEREND HORTON HEAT, boldly titled Rev, due out January 21st.
While singing his own hilariously politically incorrect songs, Unkown Hinson plays guitar in a style incendiary enough to have satan himself reaching for the antiperspirant. But dont dismiss him as a novelty act. He's one hell of a talent and has the music to prove it! Looking somewhat like Dracula's nasty little brother who spent some hard years drinking and working as a carnival barker for a second-rate freak show, Unknown Hinson translates that vibe to his style of country and western tinged psychobilly.
His last name is Tubb. His first name is Lucky. Both infer much to be known about the dynamic and distinctive musical artist from Austin, Texas blazing a new trail in old school country for the modern age. Yet they still don't tell his full and fascinating story. The great nephew of the legendary Ernest Tubb, he's certainly earned his first name as a genuine hillbilly cat with at least nine lives that he's fortunate to have lived through and returned to sing about along with a whole lot more. And with his Modern Day Troubadours behind him, Tubb has established himself as a worthy inheritor of the Tubb family musical legacy.
A childhood bouncing between hardscrabble redneck dirt-poor struggle and family dysfunction with his parents and relative luxury and security with his grandparents. Born in the Fort Worth area, Lucky was passed off by his parents to his grandparents before he'd even hit the one-year-old mark. Their Tucson home was a haven for the young 'un as well an am extended family gathering spot where he was surrounded on reunions by the music making and hard drinking that are family traits. Throughout his youth he split his time between there and attempts to live with his mother, a woman with a head full of wild hairs.
At age 14, Lucky decided it was time to get to know his father, who lived well outside the law and usual conventions in Fort Worth. "My Dad's name is Lefty because he can't do anything right. My name is Lucky because I didn't have any," he notes. When his father began leaving the teenager in barrooms and disappeared for days at a time, Tubb was adopted by a gang of bikers who inducted him into a life of crimes best left unmentioned while at the same time instilling in him their unusual yet still honorable moral code.
By 17 he landed in the Texas prison system and experienced the full terrors and troubles of all that goes down behind bars. Undaunted by what might break lesser young men, he still managed to earn his high school diploma and some college credits plus master a trade. By the time he was freed at 22, Tubb had learned enough to avoid any further life of crime, but also knew he wasn't exactly cut out for the straight and narrow. An old Black inmate had taught him some rudiments of guitar playing in jail (and paid for it with his life by crossing the strict racial lines in prison).
Tubb decided to try his hand at the family craft of singing, songwriting and making 'em dance out in the honky-tonks. He credits "God and faith and a lot of dreams" with getting him through his prison time. "I wanted to get out and play music," he asserts. "When I got out I had a big chip on my shoulder, and came down to Austin to start working on myself and getting my heart right," Tubb explains. "I barely knew how to play guitar, much less sing or write songs. I never imagined I'd do shows with Junior Brown much less write a song with Wayne and tour with Hank III — all these people whose CDs I bought to learn how to play guitar to. And now they're my peers."
Austin eclectic blues rocker Guy Forsyth took Tubb under his wing and tutored him in guitar, songwriting, and making the most of himself and his gifts. He started singing for tips in coffeehouses, and what he sang and how he sang it started to connect with the city's community of true country fans.
Just as he'd accumulated enough seasoning and songs to be ready to cut an album, Tubb got yet another smack back when he came home on Christmas Eve to find his house had burned down with all his musical instruments and equipment in it. He brushed off the ashes, eventually reacquired gear, and hit the studio with Stevens to cut his debut album, Generations, which set a pattern of mixing his songs with those from the family catalog by uncles Glenn Douglas and Ronnie Wade (Billy Lee Tubb).
He later met Monson and the two started playing gigs in roadhouses in the Texas Hill Country and Austin club shows while building a band around their musical union. A live CD and second studio album, Damn The Luck — hailed as "a fabulous album" by Rockabillyvile — followed as Tubb set out on the road to forge a national following, playing shows with Ray Price and Dwight Yoakam. His audience further expanded when fellow country legend progeny Hank III invited him to open a national tour.
Tubb and his Modern Day Troubadours — Monson, bassist Casey Gill and guitarist Sly Barrack — have branded a rep nationwide as a true-to-the-roots honky-tonk band with contemporary verve and cool. And following the release ofHillbilly Fever, they travel for the first time to Europe to play the prestigious Festival Country Rendez-Vous de Crappone in France and thrill Belgium and The Netherlands with the true cross of country music. For as Saving Country Music notes, "'tight' doesn't begin to describe the synergy and slickness of their show. I'm telling you, Lucky Tubb and the Troubadours have found their groove, and it's Katy bar the door time. Lucky Tubb has arrived, and bands that have been around for years better keep one eye over their shoulders on who's gaining on their ass."
Despite the troubles and struggles he has faced, the man named Lucky ultimately concludes, "Life's been real good to me. I wake up every morning I've got all my fingers and toes. And it just keeps getting better. I love my life. I love playing music."
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