Consisting of no less than seven hirsute dudes, Memphis country-punkers Lucero made a rare appearance in Victoria to the delight of a modest crowd at Club 9one9 on Wednesday, April 4. Yes, punk fans, they did their Jawbreaker cover; more on that soon.
Charelston, SC duo Shovels & Rope opened the show with their own contingent in attendance to sing along with high energy and endearing songs. It always amazes me how much racket just two members can make, especially if they are playing acoustic guitars and a stripped-down drumkit. Members Michael Trent and Cary Ann Hearst traded off between guitars and drums, which kept their set lively and varied. The part when Trent leaned over the drums and shared a mic with Hearst was pretty sweet (they are a couple), as was their humble thank yous as they left the stage.
Lucero are known for their long sets, usually at least two hours, so as they hit the stage I was already prepared to duck out early. Lucero are also known to split their sets into two sections: the first usually consists of their louder, more rocked-out songs, and the second is their acoustic-y, sadder ol’ bugger material. Guess which part I stayed for?
Within a couple songs they played their cover of Jawbreaker’s “Kiss the Bottle,” a tune that’s become more popular under the Lucero banner than the original ever was, despite being a completely different version of the song. And while it wasn’t a resurrection of the real thing (Jawbreaker broke up before I could see them, grumble, grumble…) it was still very cool to hear one of underground punk’s most cherished anthems in a live setting.
Lucero’s lineup consisted of two guitarists, a bass player, drummer, keyboardist, and two horn players. Most of them looked like loggers, bikers, Unabombers, or a combination of all three. This only added to their appeal: a band that looked like true badasses playing rock and country twang that was, at its essence, very sweet. Sure, a lot of their songs are about drinking and being heartbroken, but they seemed pretty damn genuine about it.
Guitarist/singer Ben Nichols’ voice is an acquired taste, somewhere between the husky bellow of Tom Waits and some modern rock radio clown, and it’s definitely a love-it-or-hate-it kind of singing style. For some, myself included, more than 90 minutes of live Lucero would be enough for a lifetime. But the smallish yet dedicated fan base were in it for the long haul, probably two-stepping and hooting it up long after I left the club.
Sometimes it’s nice to be all the way back home, curled up in bed knowing the band you just enjoyed in a truncated manner is probably still playing away on that very same stage that you were staring at earlier. And now you’re at home, getting ready to sleep, in your pajamas, and they’re still playing, always playing.
Lucero might just play until they die.