Last night I saw a Jay Reatard show. It featured four rockers with perm-a-fros on a small, cramped stage, two white Flying V guitars, and a bunch of dudes double fisting cheap beer. There was plenty of uncoordinated head banging by the perm-a-fros, as they shredded some of the sweetest punk rock and roll I’ve heard in ages. It was fast, simple, melodic, and mad. When Jay Reatard switched out his white Flying V for a different guitar, it was another white Flying V.
Each song was introduced with “Come on you f*cks,” “Let’s go f*ckers,” “All right mother f*ckers,” or some variation of those three phrases. The f*ckers in the front went absolutely apesh*t upon hearing Jay Reatard and his band bust out the opening chords to “Fading All Away,” then Jay Reatard got busted in the chops by his own mic after the f*ckers in the front slam danced their way into the mic stand. Dude barely flinched. Dude didn’t have a fit. He picked right up on the second verse.
It was over in 20 minutes and it was fantastic.