Molly Hatchet & The Dixie Roadducks

Well, first off, Molly Hatchet is named after an alleged Southern prostitute rumored to have beheaded her clients, and so, sounds like a right spirited lady, indeed. The Dixie Roadducks lived up the street from my folks old homestead, and my Pop had been mightily impressed with the sheer volume, bare-nekkid biker chicks, and the occasional stabbing that is not uncommon to the Southern Rock genre and biker parties in general. The venue has metamorphosed into Jaxx from Boots. I'd been there before when it was still Boots because a friend had gotten free tickets to see the Mavericks, who had a Top Ten Country and Western song at the time, although I don't have any recollection of that song. The things that I remember about the Boots experience was that it was very crowded with people in cowboy hats and boots, and the never to be forgotten spectacle of Line Dancing. While sitting at the bar listening to the band, two little girls barely over three feet tall and all cowboyed-up with little boots and hats walked in and stopped in front of me, one said, "I can't see a gawddamed thing from down here!" They were twin midget cowgirls! My fantasies ran toward a bunkhouse threesome involving lassos and branding irons. Later, some biker bimbo picked my pocket and filched my address book instead of my bill-folder; she was very inept and I felt her lift it, but it was of no consequence, so I turned and smiled at her. She ran to the Ladies Room to pocket what she thought was my cash only to return looking as if she would have chopped my head off if she'd had a hatchet.


Just so's you don't get to thinking that this is the Deep South and everyone is either picking cotton or cracking bullwhips, it's ten minutes south of Washington, DC on the southern edge of the infamous Beltway, and once you step inside of that magic circle, you automatically know more about stuff concerning US government and international affairs. So it is with Jaxx: upon entering, one is immediately infused with a deep understanding of the Rock Music Business and primitive suburban sexual mores. Angie the Harley Ho' Bag showed up. The place achieved jam-packed condition in no time at all. There are three bars horse-shoed around a small dance pit, and I chose a rail-counter seat on the edge of the pit, great view of the bands, balanced sound, and not too far from the bar. A very pretty girl named Donna asked me to dance, and shortly afterwards was thrown out for being "too drunk" and her also drunk boyfriend took her home. Then a tall, pretty blonde girl danced with me and punched me in the stomach a lot because I was wearing an "Everlast" boxing-gear shirt; she thought that this was great sport because I can flex my abs and become rippley, not exactly six-pack abs, more like 12-pack at this point. I had to look out, because if I don't see it coming, my solar plexus is still vulnerable.

I had figured to get a head start on the action by slamming some Wild
Turkey behind the joint before going in, and so got to talk with some of the band guys. Beers were four bucks a pop, but the first one, the bartender didn't have his bank going, and the rest of the beers showed up free. The two warm-up bands for the other two bands were pretty good, all cover tunes, but energetic, loud, and upbeat. The Dixie Roadducks are a local band, and they have a following. There is even a kind of "Duck Dance" which consists of making your arms like a duckbill and making quacking motions.

The guy who'd been the lead singer for the Roadducks has since moved up to be lead singer for Molly Hatchet, which is a Jacksonville, Florida band. They've just returned from a European Tour, where they have a top ten tune, "Why Don't You Take Me Home," which is #10 in Dootchland, and they have a new album coming out next month. So, Hatchet didn't start 'til midnight, and everyone seemed mostly wanting to hear, "Flirtin' with Disaster," which they played a nice extended version. "Devil's Canyon" was good. Maybe this is more South than I thought because they played "Dixie" and waved the Stars and Bars, which seemed to greatly enervate the crowd. Although "Flirtin' with Disaster" is Hatchet's signature tune, they're not exactly a "One Hit Wonder" band.