Jesse Dayton, Reverend Peyton’s Big Damn Band, Supersuckers
Oct. 14, 2016 @ The Tractor Tavern
By Andy Bookwalter
Friends, there’s a lot of ugliness in America right now. It’s easy to forget about what we do really well, better than anyone in the world. Besides overeating and missing the point, I’m talking about stripped down rock and roll, preferably the kind with punk rock washboard, wallet chains, and songs about pot roast.
Example number one: Jesse Dayton, an Austin, Texas musician who’s got the whole package. Seriously folks, if you want to make America great again try roots rock in the style of the Blasters. Dayson’s a handsome fellow with a deep voice, he’s a hell of a storyteller, and he has the ability to make a guitar speak in tongues. (Quick history: Dayton fronted a great rockabilly band called the Road Kinds; among other projects he’s scored Rob Zombie films, done session work for Waylon, and put out some great music under his own name.
At Seattle’s Tractor Tavern last month – in between songs like “Daddy Was a Badass” and “I’m at Home Gettin’ Hammered (While She’s Out Gettin’ Nailed)” – Dayton shared stories about getting REALLY high with the Supersuckers, paying for his kid’s college tuition, and learning how to make buttermilk fried chicken from his nanny as a little boy in east Texas.
The Reverend Peyton’s Big Damn Band ain’t so damn big, but the world NEEDS more bands fronted by a husband and wife playing cigar box guitar and washboard, respectively. The Reverend (I have NO idea what his first name is, I assume he has one) and his wife Breezy, with drummer Ben Bussell, are not exclusively a vehicle for Peyton’s amazing finger-picking virtuosity, but they aren’t not one, either.
The Reverend Peyton’s Big Damn Band, or RPBDB (as they’re known to their friends, I assume) could, and should, play all their shows on front porches. In fact, I would build a porch if I thought they would play on it.
I’ll be honest, I didn’t stay for the Supersuckers. I’ve seen ’em before, and they’re always great, but I’m old and I had to get up early the next morning to learn how to wrangle teeming hordes of Cub Scouts. Not a great excuse, but probably the most American one I’ve ever come up with.
So to everyone overdosing on cynicism here in November 2017, and by that I mean everyone: Remember what you knew all along and what Donald and Hillary will never understand, that rock and roll has healing powers.