So youre sitting up in front, laughing along with the comedians insults, when suddenly his gaze locks in your direction and you realize youre the next target. Or youre strolling around downtown, enjoying a perfectly nice afternoon, and crazy street dude decides to randomly and loudly accost you on a crowded street. You know that squirm-in-your-spot, knot-in-your-gut feeling? Welcome to the Hopscotch Boys. Sonically, the local quintet is sort of a sloppier, post-punkier Mr. Bungle. But the key to this freak show is scrawny, manic singer/audience-baiter Blowdog, who might start out the show in a dress and wig, or some sorta rudimentary superhero get-up, and is pretty much guaranteed to be in tiny skivvies by sets end. In between, hell scream, lurch across the stage, maybe drool or something, and venture out into the room to fearlessly invade peoples personal space, very probably yours. But this is nothing to dread or avoid. Embrace the discomfort, I say. With A Gun That Shoots Knives.
Listen to a sample of Hopscotch Boys’ “Sailor’s Daughter.”
Mon., Dec. 24, 2007
