By Kat Bein
By Shea Serrano
By S. Pajot
By Terrence McCoy
By Falyn Freyman
By Shea Serrano
By Jacob Katel
By Michael E. Miller
Last month, your favorite Miami music blog (AKA crossfademiami.com) hooked up a drunken, debauched night of black-out rock 'n' roll at the Stage.
Tallboys were guzzled and crushed. Speakers were scorched by Furious Dudes, Bulletproof Tiger, and Secret Arms. And as we noted the next morning, "about 100 of our closest friends, enemies, and ex-lovers showed up ready to lose their shit."
It was the inaugural edition of a monthly rager we've decided to call Crossfade Presents The Local at the Stage. (Or if you'd rather not swallow your tongue, the Crossfade music series.) And while June was all about getting skuzzy in the gutter, the dead of summer has us feeling kinda rural.
170 NE 38th St.
Miami, FL 33137
Category: Bars and Clubs
Region: Midtown/Wynwood/Design District
So come get hick with Crossfade, Everymen, the Wholetones, Brain Chips, and Uncle Scotchy this Thursday.
Everymen. Welcome to Lake Worth. It's the home of Everymen, a six-man band with a membership list that reads like roll call on skid row. There's Captain Bobo on vox, banjo, guitar, and harmonica; Jesse singing and strumming; Budz on bass; Shotgun Jew beating the skins; Chuckie squeezing the accordion; and Cowboy rubbing the washboard. Oh, and if you're wondering what they sound like, imagine a bunch of punks in a house without electricity screaming about the death of the American dream.
Wholetones. When a band is born at a bluegrass jam, you gotta know there'll be a banjo, mouth organ, and upright bass involved. And it's gonna get messy. That's exactly how this Naples folkcore crew was conceived in 2007. And four years later, the Wholetones have forged a new American tradition, abusing acoustic instruments in pursuit of a perfect bluegrass-folk-metal hybrid.
Brain Chips. If you're unfamiliar with Brain Chips, it's both a band and a disease. The band is Professor Boris Clitoris on "percussion and hollers," Finkenbeans doing the "thick strings and screams," and Screechin Sanchez handling "guitar, yells, and foot stomps." The disease, meanwhile, is vaccine-resistant and cannot be cured. Symptoms include nosebleeds, hallucinations, whiskey shits, blackouts, and an eerie vocal resemblance to Tom Waits on a handful of trucker speed.
Uncle Scotchy. According to his official MySpace biography, Uncle Scotchy was "born in or around 1950 and raised in an orphanage just west of Turkey Neck Falls, Montana," where he cared for "his mentally challenged twin brother Ezra" before hooking up with "Matilda Anne Magillicutty, daughter of famous horse breeder, Anus Magilligutty." And that's just the beginning of Scotchy's long and twisted tale. But if you want the abridged version, dude is a cowboy of shame, a one-man dirty blues band, and a better boozer than your daddy.