This is a good example of a show that was much more fun to write about than to attend. Quintron & Miss Pussycat and Bob Log III 22 Oct 2003 There’s weird and then there’s weird. A lot of acts that come through Columbus are destined to avoid mainstream success, as talented as they may be, because of the genuine oddness of their music or stage presence. Other acts get their weird on and go through the motions to get you to pay attention to them, to separate themselves from the pack. Somewhere in between these extremes are Quintron and Bob Log III, as the crowd at Little Brother’s learned last week. Bob Log III took to the stage first, setting up in the only part of the stage that wasn’t packed with Quintron’s junk shop’s worth of equipment. Log’s outfit would have made Mellow Gold-era Beck jealous, consisting of a miked motorcycle helmet and a Blue Hawaii-era Elvis jumpsuit. He ended up looking like a post-apocalyptic Evel Kenievel. As crazy and demented as his get-up was, his merciless attack on high octane “Delta blues by way of Mars” was positively infectious. His hootin’ and a-hollerin’ was in league with Charlie Feathers or the Legendary Stardust Cowboy, two artists that bordered on the insane, but managed to flip country music’s conventions over on its back and breathe new life into it. As “out there” as he was, Bob Log III’s set was obviously reverential towards and steeped in the tradition of the blues, without becoming encumbered by the genre’s conservative trappings. For a guy that sang blindfolded and with two girls sitting on his lap, he was more “blues” than all of the Robert Johnson purists out there. Bob Log III came across as a true American eccentric. Given the modest returns and scant degree of notoriety he’s garnered between his constant touring and his old duo, Doo Rag, his schtick has to be genuine. Between Bob Log III and Quintron, you know who is hogging all of the room in the van. Quintron travels with more gear than it takes to land the space shuttle, including the enormous, ballpark-size organ that’s the centerpiece to his stage show. Quintron hit the ground running, tearing into a frenetic rave-up revival that was surprisingly hard-driving and fleshed out for being just an organ and drum machine. His set ran the gamut; from Motown soul to blaxploitation funk to inspired rock ‘n’ roll insanity. Early on, Quintron was a bundle of energy that gave Mr. Log a run for his money. The only thing that marred his set was the essentially useless role of his wife, Miss Pussycat. Her sole contribution to the show was occasionally shouting cute epithets and shaking her maracas, and maybe reminding the audience why married couples shouldn’t work together. Quintron started flaming out early, as his organ excursions became more and more long-winded and started blending together into a soulful, reverb-drenched quagmire. If the show hadn’t jumped the shark by the end of Quintron’s set, it did as soon as he left the stage. An evening that had been slowly sliding downhill ended with a puppet show. There was something about snowcones and something about squirrels and something about why the hell anyone should care. Miss Pussycat’s puppet show crossed the line between being weird and playing weird, and ultimately between genuine and contrived. And contrived acts are rarely remembered fondly. -30-
Posted on: Wed, 12 Jun 2013 01:12:53 +0000
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