Bob Wayne and the Outlaw Carnies – London – live review

Bob Wayne and the Outlaw Carnies
London, Borderline
5 June 2012

Booze clouded, rebel and proud, Borderline punters were gifted a night of solid gold/hard as nails storytelling from Outlaw Country troubadour Bob Wayne.

Opening with new album’s title track ”ËœTill the wheels fall off’, Bob hollered like a fucked-up freight train, the tune revisiting the addictions he long hoped he left behind.

Eyes popping ablaze beneath a grubby bandana and above a dirty trucker’s beard, Bob rested and thrashed his battered acoustic against a belly that’s no six-pack but instead the result of drinking way too many.

Black-leather biker vested and heavily inked, Bob surrounded himself with posse of top-draw musician’s rich in the country tradition: phrasing his hard-bitten snap-shots of a life lived wrong with beautiful embellishment and agile chops. A fiercely abused fiddle and a lightning flat-picked picked Telecaster tore it up in an intense dog-fight leaving much of the crowd open mouthed.

Bob’s world is one of Crystal Meth-snorting truckers, demon wrestling cowboys and wronged lovers who resolve infidelity with a shovel, some gasoline and ultimately homicide.

All this gets done with a bad-boy smirk to see how much he can get away, plus plenty of good-natured and affectionate, but nevertheless, deeply dark laughter.

Bob’s from a rarely repeated lineage of Country few have the balls to return to, think Waylon, Merle, Johnny Paycheck, David Allan Coe and his own main-man Hank III.

Bob and his Outlaw Carnies were clearly having fun, full on big party”“mode smiles leading the crowd through their pig-bating anthem ”ËœFuck the Law’ and ode to all things nefarious and narcotic on ”ËœEverything’s legal in Alabama.’

A lengthy set completed, spanning an impressive collection of road worn vignettes for a guy not far into his 30s, Bob was in the crowd pressing the flesh and sharing the hugs.

Bob’s new album ”ËœTill the Wheels Fall Off’ is available now on Germany’s People Like You Records; usually home to all things Streetpunk and Pyschobilly, but always home to that’s messed up and real.

All words by Luke Randall.


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