Raisin' Hell with Dallas Moore.44 HoglegA Magazine for Hostile Hillbillies, Unreconstructed Rednecks Some of my less refined readers are out there scratching their heads right now and wondering to themselves, "Just who the hell is Dallas Moore?" A little over a year ago, I woulda been wondering the same thing. In a perfect world, Dallas Moore would be a megastar. But in a perfect world, nobody would give two tin shits about the likes of Garth Brooks and that whole bumper crop of "hot new country" bullshit, and people would recognize alt. country for the lackluster, boring tripe that it is. Well, we don't live in perfect world ..... But I was fortunate enough to witness the perfect country show sometime last April. So sit back and pour yourself a strong one and let me tell you a little story. The ol' lady and myself are cruising down I-75 on the way to Atlanta, Georgia to see the one and only David Allan Coe. We're blasting out Waylon on the cassette deck and feeling pretty good. It's my wife's first time seeing DAC and she's pretty excited. We're talking about what songs we hope big Dave's gonna play, and discussing how we hope that he DOES NOT HAVE AN OPENING ACT. I fucking hate opening acts at country shows. You've got your bullshit cover bands that are gonna play watered down versions of watered down songs by watered down "artists" such as whoever happens to be hot on CMT at the time. If it ain't one of those bands, it's gonna be a really bad "Southern rock" band who you can be sure is gonna massacre "Sweet Home Alabama" before the night is through. These bands are doubly bad because they think they're so goddam cool and they all original material hat is completely interchangeable with all their band "Southern rock" counterparts. Or you can get stuck with the ultimate bummer - one of those sensitive guys with an acoustic guitar who thinks he's the next John Prine or Guy Clark. He is an "artist" and thinks that because his songs do not make sense that they are somehow deep and meaningful. This isn't a knock on John Prine or Guy Clark, mind you. They kick ass. They've just inspired some real fucking losers. So we're keeping our fingers crossed that it's gonna be an all Coe evening. We get to the bar and down a couple of beers and wait patiently for the lights to dim. All of Coe's equipment is set up, so we're pretty sure that he's not gonna have an opening band. Then the stage lights come on, and someone announces that in just a few short minutes the opening act would take the stage. "Oh shit!" we collectively moan. and there's no extra equipment set up - it's gonna be one of those goddam sensitive singer-songwriter types. Fuck! "Who the hell did he say was playing?" I ask my wife. She shrugs her shoulders in bewilderment It sounded like he said "Dallas Whore." This had me thinking that it's a band that copped their name from that Guy Clark song "Let Him Roll." That could really go either way - it oculd be a some kinda biker band who were ballsy enough to use the word "whore" in their name or it was gonna be one of these douchbag alt. country bands. Then I see this biker looking guy with an Easyriders T-shirt that says "Dallas Moore." The house lights go down... Well, shit-fire! Weren't we surprised when Dallas Moore hit the stage? A lone dude with a black cowboy hat, an acoustic guitar and a tattoo of Hank Williams, Sr. on his left arm ... who proceeded to blaze through some of the best goddam country music I've heard in ages. We're talking fucking OUTLAW MUSIC! His taste in cover songs was impeccable. "Put Another Log on the Fire", "All I Can Do Is Write About It", Hank Jr., Hank Sr., Waylon, Willie, Billy Joe Shaver. We were singing along and having the time of our lives. Hell, he gets double points for doing Billy Joe's "Georgia on a Fast Train" and saying that the song never was a big hit but he was doing it "just 'cause I love the hell out of it." The wife's hollerin' and we're clapping hands as Mr. Moore urges us on by hollerin' "RAISE HELL" and taking shot after shot of bourbon whiskey between each pair of kick ass songs. What really blew us away was that not only could he work the hell out of a cover song, but his originals were just as good, and in some cases better -- songs about sending Wild Turkey his paycheck and going back down south where he belongs. It was like some Outlaw Country god had reached deep inside my thoughts and pulled out the perfect redneckin' show in the form of one Dallas Moore. I never thought I'd say it about an "opening act", but the set ended all too soon. I made my way over to the side of the stage and shook hands and shot the shit for a few. Dallas said he had some cassettes for sale up front so me and the old lady immediately ran up to the merch table and snagged a copy of Dallas' superb full-length entitled "My Heroes Have Always Been Cowboys." It must have years since a show had gotten me so goddam worked up. DAC has his work cut out for him, having to follow Dallas Moore. Of course he kicked ass and took names like only DAC can do. But don't take that as any kind of jab at Dallas Moore. I'd gladly fork over the twenty dollar ticket price to see Dallas by hisself any old day. On the way home we played his cassette over and talked about how he had blown our socks off. I hear tell he has a new CD out and am doint the unthinkable by staying dry for a week or so and taking that extra cash so that I can get me a copy. If that don't speak volumes, I don't know what does. In a day and age when so many fake cowboys are trying to keep their teeth white and their boots clean, Dallas Moore stands tall as a shitkicker supreme. Redder'n a foxes ass and goldarn proud of it. So check out the Dallas Moore show if you happen to be lucky enough to have him pass your way. To borrow a phrase from DAC's infamous "Nothing Sacred" album, 'IT'S A MOTHERFUCKER!" Alan King, .44 Hogleg |