Thursday, August 26, 2010
Better than: That band called Guns 'N' Roses.
As Juliette Lewis was about to take the floor at Bardot, the Village People's "YMCA" was blasting through the packed bar's speakers. I don't know if people went because Juliette Lewis is their favorite singer, favorite movie star, or if they were just curious to see what this actress-turned-rocker would be like live. When all was said and done, Juliette was everyone's favorite everything.
When the band started playing, she was banging on the drums -- caveman style. She was a kid making noise and a woman with a sledgehammer. It was brutal, sexy and joyous.
The joy was contagious; the whole crowd was dancing and smiling. She pounced off the drum stool, channeled Iggy Pop and turned Bardot into the jungle.
There were a few instances where the drummer and the bassist jammed on one note. During that simple pulsing, she talked to the crowd. Flirted with everyone. Drew us in closer. "Miami, I thought you'd miss your techno music," she joked. I forgot about techno. I forgot she was the hilarious cuckolding wife in Old School. I forgot that people forgot about real rock 'n' roll.
The band was wild, loose and out of control. Miss Juliet Lewis, in her heart-print denim bellbottoms and glorious feathers, was an evangelist preaching the good news. Like a Robert Plant with balls, she wailed sexier than any woman, and stronger than any man I've seen perform.
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During her closer, "Suicide Dive Bombers," the night had evolved from novelty into rock 'n' roll salvation. If Juliette Lewis didn't save rock, than for one night, thanks to Juliette Lewis, rock 'n' roll saved Miami.
Personal Bias: I love rock music done right.
Random Detail: Aside from the lady on pills that had no idea that legs were for walking, everyone was well behaved.