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Hangout Review
Devil in a Woodpile
at the Hideout, Chicago, IL
November 30, 2004
This is a hangout review and not a concert review because when you see Devil in a Woodpile play live, you are quite literally hanging out with them. The Hideout has a large stage in a backroom that is separate from the bar area in front, but Devil in a Woodpile doesn’t have much use for it. Every Tuesday night they set up shop right in the middle of the main room. No amps or mics, just balls and bravado. They play blues, ragtime, jazz, everything you could ever want. These are the kind of hangout buddies you can count on to bring the fucking hangout.
The flaming head of the hydra is Rick “Cookin” Sherry. He has this magnificent throaty drawl that he sings through, and he plays the meanest fucking harmonica in the galaxy. In case you don’t believe it, he totes all of his harps in a wild-west looking, leather holster. Sherry also plays an antiquated little kick drum, a scorching clarinet and a miniature washboard with a cymbal attached at the base. Holy shit, right!?
The first time I saw them at the Hideout, something like three years ago, the bass player was playing a washtub bass. Periodically throughout the night, dudes with various cases in their hands would wander in, unpack an instrument, and join the session. Then, just as surreptitiously as they slunk in, they’d get up and leave. Lurkers! Was I ever feeling that! I think they even had a tuba player.
Last night, they played a rowdy set. Even the loud, drunken, hippie girls who removed their shoes couldn’t wreck the night train. My spouse and I made two requests, and both were met with exceeding vigor and polish. The guitar player’s named is Joel Paterson, and I’ll be thrice-dipped in dirty dishwater if he isn’t just as deadly a steel six-string as the mamba is a poisonous serpent. And bass player Tom Ray can surely knock ants of a log.
Point is, Devil in a Woodpile, like a Ruben sandwich, is even better than video games. If you live in Chicago, enjoy them at will. There is no cover and the PBR is cheap, meaning you‘ll have plenty of cash to put in the band‘s tip jar. If you’ve never been, you might need a guide who knows the secret knock to show you how to get to the Hideout, cause it’s kinda hidden.
If you live elsewhere, they’ve got a new album in the pipes.
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