The Electric Hand.
The Torments.
The Detroit Cobras.
Three die-hard garage rock bands. Three gangs essentially. Their main religious belief: die with your boots on, rocking on 11!
Thus the last Saturday night in February saw a throwback cave stomp the likes of which this two-bit poor man's colon of a town ain't seen in a stegosaurus's age.
Three bands, two killer banzai charges of three-chord brutality and a headliner's display of boozy public breakdown fronting Americana-tinged soul and hoe-down flavored stomperoos. Nothin' but good people, nothing' but real good.
First up: our own Electric Hand.
T.C.Ottinger, the Hand's frantic front man, may just be Poopville's Number One Rock'n'Roll Personality in terms of live performance. He's utterly confident, completely full of himself and pretty funny. He jumps into songs like a speeding getaway car having just ripped off a Wendy's on Cleveland Avenue. He's a mania.