>>PREVIEW
TH’ LEGENDARY SHACK*SHAKERS
Tuesday, September 19
Broken City
Rock ’n’ roll – the modern circus sideshow. Teeming with mythic, mystic qualities, its awkward gravitational pull is far greater than that of say, a car wreck.
That’s what makes it safe while still maintaining a desperately attractive, albeit imposing air of lost innocence and danger. As curious humans, we’re drawn to it esthetically and emotionally. The need to see that creepy thing on the other side of the tent show flap is unending – a palatable craving of soulful thirst in dire need of quenching. It’s scary, enthralling, repulsing and amusing all at the same time.
So why has rock ’n’ roll lost virtually all of that over the past few years? It’s a question that haunts Southern rockers Th’ Legendary Shack*Shakers – purveyors of truly disturbing, spine-chilling rock ’n’ roll. The gruesomely enticing quartet is currently on tour in support of third full-length Pandelirium, a mission to oppose the simplistic pablum of modern rock and revitalize its primal essence by uniting the aforementioned worlds of rock and cavalcade.
"We think of how people live their lives – humdrum and mundane," notes singer and harpist J.D. Wilkes. "Ours (are) like that behind the scenes, but we still can’t believe we’re paid to see the world and play music. We’re thankful for this lifestyle so our live charisma is natural. It comes from guys that enjoy playing music from the gut; from the waist down, not the shoulders up."
Strange then, that Th’ Legendary Shack*Shakers barely realize just how intense their creepy carnival-esque nature is. Dubbed "American Gothic" for its infusion of the purest elements of American music, it brings to mind cotton-field hollers, funeral marches, murder ballads, the "unhinged energy" of Texas polkas, spaghetti western anthems and gritty, punk sound bombs. True to form, the band is so drawn into their craft that they have no fucking clue about how interesting, yet odd, they really are. The rock ’n’ roll freak show if you will.
"All we’re trying to do is consciously reinforce the spectacle of live, charismatic entertainment," shrugs Wilkes. "We want to create rock ’n’ roll gone horribly right. When you see Th’ Legendary Shack*Shakers, you’re witnessing three front men in a four-ring circus giving ourselves up to the moment naturally, fully and completely. It’s the concept of being slain in the spirit, channelling the demons of rock ’n’ roll for people to gawk and point at. This is organic success born out of hard work and talent."
It’s also a lot of fucking weird born out of the world’s most nightmarish music. Forged together into what one would imagine Stephen King’s Pennywise would embrace whilst taunting doomed riders onto a demonic tilt-a-whirl from hell. The band’s self-described "agri-dustrial abomination" is truly an original creation. It’s a raging monster to their Frankensteins – Wilkes, guitarist David Lee, bassist Mark Robertson and drummer Pauly Simmonz.
"People think we’re coming up with these crazy amalgamations of styles," laughs Wilkes. "The styles we utilize aren’t diametrically opposed. In fact, most of them are the same elementally. It’s just two-beat rhythms with minor melodies.
"If we use Klezmer and Appalachian murder ballads, we focus on similarities and let them work in a catchy vein. It sounds odd, but you could throw a Johnny Cash twang on that, ’cause it’s all based on the same oompah beat. They work together in a natural way despite sounding disparate. We’re experimenting as we go, seeing what works ’cause we’re musical nymphomaniacs. We’ll do anything… marry up one style to another."
One might refer to it as Nick Cave singing over a manic Reverend Horton Heat album soaked in banshee wails… warped by the fire and brimstone of the deepest pit in hell.
The style transfers incredibly well. Pandelirium is undeniably infectious and ghoulish; a musical fireside ghost story that is even more stunning in a live setting. Cutting down on the influx of unusual instruments and lush backing that dominates their studio efforts means the band is indelibly raucous live, exploding with ravenous energy propelled by Iggy Pop-ish ringmaster Wilkes.
And thanks to their ever-widening (yet always unusual) catalogue of influences, a diverse interest from punks, indies, old timers and even blues hounds finding elements of their beloved Willie Dixon in the asymmetrical rockabilly twang of Pandelirium are omnipresent. Naturally, Wilkes’ lyrical content follows close suit, inspired by some of the more romantic elements of the human condition.
"I’m a fan of old gospel hymns and Poe; murder and crib-death ballads of the Appalachians; songs that are somewhat flowery but intense," Wilkes delivers with bone-chilling flatness. "Those are the things that take people for a ride in their stories – that grip you to the core. Read the lyrics to ‘Amazing Grace,’ it’s a tragic story. Those are beautiful poems of hellish discontent. I call it high drama. It’s when someone has a friendly nature and accessibility, but there’s something darker to the core. That’s the human story and this (band) is one way of telling it." |
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