show: A Hawk and a Hacksaw
When I see a heavily Eastern European traditional ensemble, a dirty group of musicians, I always figure on an audience of other musicians. Ever since I worked the art gallery racket, selling mass-produceable hotel art to business majors, I don’t try selling skill to laypeople. Part of it is that it takes a feel for something to appreciate it. That’s one of the two reasons authors don’t read Danielle Steele. The other is that an artist approaches a medium to learn, interact and personally grow. A housewife wants an escape. T-Bone Burnett said that music is not for everybody. By that token life is not for everybody. If you can’t handle your life, the entertainment industry offers escape. And if you’re hooked on it, death comes quicker.
What I’m getting to is that these guys are hot. What floored me was their audience of Indy hipster kids. Either something revolutionary is tuning the tastes of the cool kids or else it’s just that Hawk & Hacksaw’s singer used to be in an Indy rock group. No matter. Hawk and a Hacksaw pounded down all the fierce, instinctively danceable, tear-sweet rhythms. And the throngs began hopping, clogging, clapping. I want my tribe, clan, and small army. I want it back from The Man.