Metro Pulse/Music/The Reverend Horton Heat

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What:
The Reverend Horton Heat

When:
Wednesday, April 23, 8 p.m.

Where:
Blue Cats

Cost:
$10 advance, $12 door

The Reverend Horton Heat returns to Knoxville to spread the gospel of rock 'n' roll

by Leslie Wylie

If rock 'n' roll is a religion, the Reverend Horton Heat preaches a hell of a sermon. The infamously rowdy trio, headed up by singer-guitarist Jim Heath (the not-technically-ordained Reverend's alter-ego) along with standup bassist Jimbo Wallace and drummer Scott Churchilla, is known for wedding rockabilly and punk into a genre that has been christened 'pyschobilly.'

"We use the rockabilly mid-century music as a platform, but we try all sorts of other things if it seems like it would be fun. Fun is the key word," says Heath in a telephone interview from his home in Dallas.

In both look and sound, the roots of rockabilly point to classic 1950s rock 'n' roll. The Reverend Horton Heat takes it a step further, incorporating everything from jazz and surf influences to spaghetti western ballads. The band also gamely plays up to rockabilly's association with so-called "hotrod" culture.

"The hotrod culture thing is something that has kind of been brewing with the rockabilly since the late '60s, early '70s, and in some sense it never really died," explains Heath. "These young people you see at the shows, their dads were into rock 'n' roll and building a '39 Ford and that kind of thing. They all have this great vintage '50s look, great cars; it's a great scene. Some of them look like '50s thugs, but they bring in some of the older values that are really good."

The Reverend Horton Heat's seventh and latest album, 2002's Lucky 7, rocks just as hard as anything else the band has produced during the last decade. It's deliciously sleazy, relentlessly raucous, and Southern-fried with enough grease that one of its tracks, "Like a Rocket," was even chosen to be the official theme song for the 2002 Daytona 500.

"I was flattered," says Heath earnestly of the selection, just before exchanging his smooth Texas drawl for an audibly painful redneck twang. "'Cuz hell, I love NASCAR. I love Dale Earnheardt Jr. I hate Jeff Gordon. I'm a GM man."

Heath's contagious sense of humor and irreverent use of irony are staples of his live shows, as anyone who has seen the band perform can testify. The band has a reputation for donning flashy rhinestone suits, engaging in rambunctious stage antics and, until recently, consuming ungodly amounts of alcohol on stage to accompany lyrics about liver X-rays that resemble Swiss cheese.

But these days, the band that brought the world songs like "Beer," "Beer:30," "Liquor, Beer & Wine," and "Baby, I'm Drunk" is sobering up—or at least refraining from hitting the bottle until mid-show.

"There were points in time when we were just like a 24-hour rolling party," Heath says. "Us having to run around and party with everybody...we just hit a point where we wanted to play music. Honestly, you can't fool the fans; they want to hear the music. When everyone shows up too drunk to play the gig, that's just terrible."

In songwriting, the repercussions of throwing back one too many martinis may have served as an artistic catalyst, but in real life the Reverend Horton Heat knows too well its cost. Heath recalls an incident that occurred the night before a show in Knoxville a few years back while he was touring with the Supersuckers. When a member of the other band got into a bar brawl after the show, Heath unsuccessfully attempted to intervene and break it up.

"I ended up with this huge black eye, and he had two really huge black eyes. And I remember thinking, 'Oh man, we've got a gig in Knoxville tomorrow.' When they went on stage, he cheated—he wore sunglasses," Heath laughs. "You know, I'm not a fighter, I'm a lover."

Matters of violence and intoxication aside, the Reverend Horton Heat has no plans to slow down either its music or its frenzied touring schedule (the band plays about 200 shows a year) anytime soon.

"If we slowed down, people would still say we were touring a lot. We'd still be out touring more than most," says Heath. "I've really gotten into the concept of 'You've got to the pay your dues if you want to play the blues.' I love how other people—B.B. King, Willie Nelson—are still out there pounding away, and I respect that. You've got to use it or lose it."