The first time I saw Slobberbone was on a lark. On the way back from my quail lease outside Seymour, Texas, I stopped at Dan's Silverleaf in Denton. It was on the way home (sorta) and I was thirsty, and had always heard stories about the place. I figured no one would care that I was still wearing my brush britches and bird hunting shirt.
A beer or two later, Slobberbone hit the stage, and tore into a frantic version of Placemat Blues. It whipped the crowd (including me) into a frenzy, so I moved up closer to the stage. A couple songs later, they stopped for the obligatory banter with the audience. Lead singer Brent Best looked me up and down, and asked, "what the hell are you wearing, assless chaps?"
I left that show early.
Last night, I had the chance to see the 'Bone again, reunited after an amicable breakup. Word has it that they'll cut a new album in the coming months, and from what I heard, this alt-country darling is still relevant. They blew through all of their standards, and they sounded every bit as good as they did back at Dan's, albeit a bit more grown up.
It was a fun show -- a damn fine throwback. Even so, I was exhausted after three late nights, and wanted to save some juice for New Year's Eve. So I left early -- and I wasn't even wearing assless chaps.