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SIOUX CITY PETE & THE BEGGARS AT THE REDWOOD BAR AND GRILL
There
was a time when preachers warned that the blues wasthe Devil’s music,
that it was dangerous and would send you straight to Hell, but nowadays
it’s usually considered harmless background music at picnics, sporting
events and boating tours. But no one will be inviting Sioux City Pete
& the Beggars on any restful blues cruises in the near future.
These drifters from Iowa hammer down an awful, abrasive, scarifying,
rumbling, crude garage-industrial blues racket that’s so hellishly
loud, it buries most traces of its ostensible Charley Patton/Robert
Johnson/Howlin’ Wolf/Cramps/Gun Club influences in a junkyard racket.
Ex–Chicken Hawks guitarist Sioux City Pete stubbornly digs into
generally taboo subjects (pedophilia, racism, genocide, Satanism,
cannibalism and necrophilia) but not because he’s trying to be shocking
or punk-rock offensive; he sees modern-day horror and cruelty as just
being part of an unbroken chain that stretches back past the time
Johnson first noticed the hellhounds were following him. Another
recurring theme is how seemingly gentle, stout-hearted and steady
Midwestern farmers are secretly boiling over with homicidal impulses,
with Pete bookending his imprecations in raw swaths of distorted slide
guitar. These are murder “ballads” that really do sound like murder.
(Falling James).
10:20 PM
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