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Dig that crazy horn, man

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The ol' bump 'n' grind and the rock 'n' roll had me reelin' this weekend. I rolled up on Tilt where the Saints And Sinners folks were throwing their second burlesque show. The joint was packed with the promise of T&A serving as a tractor beam. Fortunately this troupe --- though generous with the T and the A (please, let's not forget the A) --- also kept close to classic burlesque's camp, risqué humor and bawdy irreverence. Naked is more fun when you're laughing.

The most mesmerizing part of the outfit was Sahara Shimmer; an amazing group of belly dancers who twirl and shake and undulate and twist and grind so well that it becomes hard to breathe or swallow or blink while they perform.

Other highlights: a jailbreak scenario and three busty babes mixing martinis in their cleavage. I've never been so thirsty.

The devil himself made a stop here Saturday night at the Bug Jar, channeled through his hillbilly disciple, Joe Buck. Buck slaps the bull fiddle for Hank III when he's not raving on stage with his beat-up Gibson and a kick drum. Bathed in the light of one red bulb mounted at his feet, Buck evoked anger (he uses "motherfucker" more than Phil Anselmo), demons, feedback, and hillbilly pride. He drove the crowd with the maniacal, solitary beat of his drum, at times stomping on it so hard I thought the hammer would wind up stuck in the wall across the room, or in someone's forehead. Buck is the genuine article, a swell cat, and a source of shame for any musician on the road who's prone to bellyaching. Thanksgiving 2005, Buck was in a serious auto wreck where he broke multiple bones and ruptured just as many organs. Buck only recently got out of a wheelchair to do this tour.

And if that ain't enough, prior to his set Buck played bass for down home country rocker Bob Wayne.

Show opener The Broke Down was totally outta sight, reminding me of Johnny Reno's slant on rock 'n' roll with a splash of brass. You just gotta dig that crazy horn, man.

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