The worse the décor the better the music
I have a theory, the worse the décor the better the music. The Earl in East Atlanta is no exception to that rule. A dingy little hole in the wall with peeling paint and a non-existent air-conditioning system make for the perfect music venue. Sweaty bodies packed tightly all dancing to incredible music.
I love odd music and when I heard Los Straightjackets were playing in Atlanta I had to go. We got there a little early because the second part of my theory is that dive bars have the best food. The Earl has been voted best burger in Atlanta a few years running and I love the Guac Burger. A hot, juicy burger with real cheddar cheese and guacamole, a mound of shoestring French fries and a cold beer…heaven!
After filling my belly with a pound of grease I’m ready to hit the dance floor. You enter the concert area through a dark hallway, pay admission and open the doors and enter a dark, smoky cave of a room pulsing with music. Every girl has jet black hair, heavy eyeliner and tattoos, I get the feeling that I just missed a Betty Page look-a-like contest.
The Iguana’s are playing and the crowd on the dance floor is about my parent’s age. I am immediately drawn to one of the worse dancers I have ever seen. She is a middle aged woman who obliviously twitching to a beat that isn’t coming from the band. Every 30 seconds or so she seems to convulse and her arms and legs flail around hitting everyone in a 10 foot radius. I look over next to me and Big Sandy, the lead singer for Los Straightjackets is also entranced by her dancing.
A quick break and Los Straightjackets hit the stage. The band is dressed like IBM executives from the 1960’s. Dark, narrowly cut suits, white shirts, thin black ties and Mexican wrestling masks. That’s right, I said Mexican wrestling masks. They start right into a Ventures medley, playing the fastest guitar licks I have ever heard while standing perfectly still.
The Betty Page girls hit the dance floor and I join in. It is impossible to stand still to this music. I am a sweaty mess within 10 seconds. I am dressed in jeans and a T-shirt and can’t imagine how hot the band must be in suits and masks.
Big Sandy, the singer joins the stage. He is a big hulk of a guy who looks like a Mexican Elvis with a jet black pompadour, Las Vegas swagger and tailored suit. Everyone is on the dance floor now. The play list seems like something from a frat house party…Mustang Sally, Black is Black, Gimme a Little Sign, Hang on Sloopy, Lonely Tear Drops, Wild Thing, California Sun, but this is far from frat house music. It is surf guitar music at it’s finest with a twist of the bizarre.
The show ends and we spill out into the parking lot, drenched in sweat and eardrums still pounding. What a great night! I can’t wait to see them again.