Bob Log 111 - A Concert Review

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Happy-ass

Venue: The Kings Arms, Auckland, New Zealand

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 noon-blue jump-suit fringed with flashing red lights, Bob
staggers out of the gents. 'Woo, Auckland!' he screams distortedly through
the telephone receiver on his steamed-up visor. 'Ya'all want a fast one ...
with the fingers? This is the fastest song in the world.'

Mr Log's no novelty act; in fact, he's a virtuoso, tearing it up with
vicious slide-playing on a beat-up 60s 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 huffs 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 are 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. Guess you
can't have everything, but Bob's sure some people went home with ideas.

Happy-ass

Still, ol' Daddy Log did get those Kiwi gals to sit on his legs during
the stomping new 'love balled' - '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 is 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.'


LÒÒnytunes


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