Bob Log 111 - In Concert at the Kings Arms, Auckland, New Zealand Content from the guide to life, the universe and everything

Bob Log 111 - In Concert at the Kings Arms, Auckland, New Zealand

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You haven't lived until you've seen a one-man band, playing devilish slide guitar and drums, holler through a phone attached to his crash helmet - all while bouncing two young women on his knees.

Bob Log 111, from Tucson, Arizona, plays hot-rodded juke-joint blues, and it's so funky he has to sit down to play.

I grew up listening to Screaming Jay Hawkins and Bo Diddley. That means you start with the blues and end up with a party.

Classy Dresser

Clad in a silver motorcycle helmet and a skin-tight, neon-blue jump-suit fringed with flashing red lights, Bob staggered out of the gents. 'Woo, Auckland!' he screamed, distorted, through the telephone receiver on his steamed-up visor. 'Y'all want a fast one ... with the fingers? This is the fastest song in the world.'

Mr Log is no novelty act. In fact, he's a virtuoso, tearing it up with vicious slide-playing on a beat-up 1960s Silvertone like an electrocuted Son House, and quick-fire stomping on bass drum and cymbal. He triggers a drum machine and guitar effects, too.

Dirt-floor Lyrics

One-man bands are a tradition in blues, just like dirt-floor specific lyrics. 'Uh! This song's about bein' in a one-man band,' he huffed through his phone, or 'This song's about my finger.' We hear boogies about snakes, say 'Howdy' to Bob's guitar, and soon people get dancing to crazed cuts such as 'Booby Trap', 'Ass Computer' and 'Log Dirty Down' from his Fat Possum albums School Bus and Trike.

Sadly, there were no takers for audience participation on his anthem 'Clap Your Tits'. This exquisitely dumb classic, featuring exactly what you think it features, got started by over-enthusiastic Ani DiFranco fans. You can't have everything, but Bob is sure some people went home with ideas.


Still, ol' Daddy Log did get those Kiwi gals to sit on his legs during the stomping new 'love ballad' - 'I want Your S**t on My Leg'. 'I'm flying outta here with some happy-ass knees,' he declares to one happy-ass crowd.

Partied out, Bob was the last to leave, packing his case of CDs and 'Clap Your Tits' pants into someone's car. Under the visor he's 32, married, tours eight months of the year, and has a goofy grin. 'This song's about being so happy that your friends kick you out of the car.'

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