The Surreal McCoys present…The Day The Music Died
Flashback: NYC. Lower East Side.
Our heroes booked at an underground stage with an East Coast fetish convention holding court on the upper floors. McCoys fans filing through a maze of leather-clad drag queens and topless, ether-crazed Walter Cronkite look-a-likes to reach the cavern. A rockshow with a legit Warriors vibe.
Turnbull AC’s. Punks. Orphans.
Baseball Furies? Natch.
You bet your ass.
“Surreal McCooyoyysssss…come out and plaaaaayyyyyyyy”
The boys tore into Brown Demon; the crowd pulsed. Elvis bathed in shadows, working the frets – or where the frets should be – too dark – Billy Saul and Clint pounding the (what else?) solid 4’s with a kickhammer thrust and a kickhammer isn’t even a thing but for that moment it was. Goats with a boot on the monitor, guitar slung low just like in the posters.
Not an axe; a guitar, you poseurs.
Cletus growling the chorus. Whiskey-voiced.
Enough adrenaline to punch a hole in the sky. Oh, wait. That was a ceiling pipe.
“Oh God, I broke my finger!”
“NO, I THINK I BROKE MY FINGER!”
“OKAY – POWDERFINGER….1…2…3…4…”
The road crew – Penny Lane and Johnny – realize something’s up.
Cletus needs more booze.
Flash forward: Rock music is dead.
No radio play. No record industry. Pop and hip hop rule the day.
Rock is dead. Punk is dead. Ghettoized along with jazz, network TV, and model railroading.
One final show. Let’s put it to bed, citizens.
Of course: Simeri’s. 1505 West Indiana Ave in South Bend. 8:30 PM Friday September 27, night before the Irish play Oprahoma in tackle football.
You’ve heard the riff. Johnny Cash meets The Clash. Originals. A few covers. You’ll sing along and you’ll break the code. This isn’t a band. It’s actors playing a band. And you’re auditioning.
Pro sound. Fog. Kickhammers. This is the big time; the final time.
It’ll be the Surreal McCoys and it’ll be The Day The Music Died.
And you can say you were there.
Well it’s been a month, but we wanted to send a belated but no less heartfelt “thank you” to all our wonderful friends in Washington DC who came to the May 17th Surreal McCoys Rock Show at Hill Country BBQ.
It was a perfect night, a prefect venue, and a perfect crowd.
A capacity crowd. Hopped up on brisket, brown liquor, and crazy positive energy.
And for 27 songs over two sweat-soaked hours, we all joined together to hoot and holler our way through the American Cow Punk Songbook. We played songs off our first record, songs off our upcoming record, and songs shouted from the audience we didn’t even know we knew.
Together, we stomped firmly on the terra, howled loudly into the distance, and for a couple of glittering hours on a warm Friday night in May, we melted a few bars of the cage. The night ended-appropriately-with the crowd onstage, dancing with the band until the final sacred chord rang out into the DC darkness.
Because as we said onstage that night: without you, there is no us. We are The Surreal McCoys—not just the five of us—but all of us. So thank you. From the bottom of our Rock-n-Roll hearts.
Thanks to those of you who came to this show, those who came to past shows, and to those we’ll see at future shows.
We love you DC, and can’t wait to come back and play for you again. We’ll drain the tank (not to mention a few bottles of Jameson’s) with you any time! Special thanks to Doug Davenport and the good folks at Hill Country–Rachael, Dave, and the legendary Jesse Scott–for making this happen! And bonus thanks to Benjamin Herman and Chris Abi-Najm for their spectacular photos of the gig!
Yours in Rock,
The Surreal McCoys
Meet Erik Huey.
Government relations pro representing the video game industry during the day and rock star by night. Literally the man is a rock star, which you can see for yourself next Friday. Huey will be playing with his band, The Surreal McCoys, at Hill Country. Luckily he had a few minutes between levels to catch up with FamousDC
Read here for the full article –> http://famousdc.com/fives/erik-huey/
CLICK HERE: -> Leaving to Stay