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 ”˜Till 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 ”˜Fuck the Law’ and ode to all things nefarious and narcotic on ”˜Everything’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 ”˜Till 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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