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A D V E R T I S E M E N T
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A D V E R T I S E M E N T
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Shhh-Show
Now that dancing days are here again, the good ol’ Eastside speakeasy is opening its doors back up to some BYOB-partying. A little background: The speakeasy is a club of sorts, not far from downtown, where bands of the party variety occasionally get together to play informal shows for neat prizes and grit. The speakeasy has everything a normal club does, including beer coolers, a sound system, security and service personnel, a stage, and running water. The only difference is that if bands want to keep playing past last call, they can, and, while I’ve heard stories of parties going until morning, the stories I’ve heard have come from the five or six people who were there. In other words, parents, your kids will be safe (even though if they’re still living with you, you probably have bigger issues). But back to this Saturday: Reggae-rockers Pablo and the Hemphill 7 are playing, along with three self-proclaimed backstabbing pinche gringos, a.k.a. Darth Vato, starting at around 10 p.m. The cover charge, according to DV, is “a million.” Not sure what that means, other than something snarky or, frighteningly, factual, but you may do well to bring some cash — I’m sure I’m lying about that “neat prizes and grit” part. (However, I know from the highest authority that DV bassist and Weekly scribe Steve Steward will play for Lone Star beer. At least a sixer. Oh, who are we kidding. He’ll play for a half-empty.) I can’t emphasize enough the importance of a joint like the speakeasy, for both the music scene and the city at large. Most big, real cities have after-hours clubs. There are three post-last call joints in my old neighborhood up north in my old, dying, Rust-Belt town. (Never mind that my hometown is snowy and gray all of the time and that the people are mean and miserable — there are three after-hours clubs in my neighborhood alone!) Frankly, I’m amazed that our fine Town of Cow hasn’t put the kibosh on the speakeasy. Or tried to turn it into a Baby Gap. For more information, ask your friends. ... That’s a pretty impressive pedigree on Great American Novel, a brand-spankin’ new Fort Worth indie-rock trio: Co-frontman and native Alabaman Rob Caslin has collaborated with Lost Country, arguably Cowtown’s oldest and most beloved trad-C&W band. With his former band, the punk outfit Vacation Bible School, he opened for indie-grunge darlings Dinosaur Jr. Native Oklahoman and co-frontman Will Gillham has penned two solo CDs, and drummer and fellow native Oklahoman Chris Squires played in The Helicopter, a psychedelic-garage band that opened for fellow Oklahomans and major-label stars The Flaming Lips. Impressive, no? Well, in any case, Great American Novel serves up some decent, jangly riffs, can pen a catchy melody a la early Stones (“Street Fighting Man,” specifically), early Violent Femmes, and later Split Endz, and is technically accomplished. GAN has recorded a couple of songs and is playing this Saturday at Lola’s, 2736 W 6th St. Call the club at 817-877-0666 or visit www.myspace.com/greatamericannovelband.
Contact HearSay at hearsay@fwweekly.com.
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