Webb Wilder & the Beatnecks
Doors open at 7 pm.
WEBB WILDER: Before there were Kings of Leon, Keys of Black or Whites of Jack in Nashville, there was Webb Wilder.
Rock 'n' roll, from Nashville. Formed from Mississippi mud, tinged with British mod. Bruised by the blues. Baptized by Buck and Chuck. Psychiatric psycho-rootsy. Sizzling, glistening, uneasy listening. As it has been for three decades, it is now and ever shall be.
Mississippi Moderne. Pronounce it however you like, but Webb pronounces it "Moe-durn." Hybridized and improvised.
"I hate to use the word 'mature,'" Webb says. And so we shall not.
Born more than 60 years ago in Hattiesburg, Webb Wilder is not mature. He is the last of the full-grown men, and the last of the boarding house people. He is a unique presence among the peasants. He is a force for good, and a friend to animals.
"It's a journey, and one thing I've learned about myself is that I haven't grown up," Webb says. "The good news is, I'm a musician. The bad news is, I'm a musician."