When: Fri., Feb. 5, 10 p.m. 2016
Plucked from the same raucous-billy tree as Hasil Adkins, Charlie Feathers or King Khan & BBQ Show, Bloodshot Bill is a one-man band of several men’s worth of motherfucker. This greasy-haired, palsy-lipped shoulder-rocker has swallowed the same potion as some of rock ‘n’ roll’s greatest front-folks: from Wanda Jackson to Eddie Cochran, Jerry Lee to Conway to Screamin’ Jay, Bloodshot Bill keeps up with the best of them. That’s a mighty tall order for such great company, a Long Island Ice Tea’s worth of ‘tude and hillbilly blues, a triple — which is a corny-ass way to say that Bill’s making some staggering moonshine monkey music. Right in the pocket of your little sister’s pajamas. Trailer park polk salad punk played on a bass drum, a hi-hat, guitar and what comes sailing or snarling out of his gullet, at times sweet as honeysuckle or bitter as black coffee. Recently, Bill’s stock has risen as he has gotten attention from our great white neighbor to the north, Austin. However, he will be embarrassing his mother and shaming his children with the devil’s sweet, sweet music this Saturday on the Strip. Catch him before he starts collaborating with Jack White and Pharrell in Dave Grohl’s home studio.