Blistered in the Sun

Unwrapping the Summer Package Tour

by Jesse Delaney

Now is the winter of our discotheque. The weatherís mercifully cooler, the kids are back in school (no longer flaunting their summer freedom outside our office windows), and even the Unlimited Sunshine Tour packed up its tent and moved indoors.

It was moonshine more than sunshine that dripped from the songs of the Hackensaw Boys. Their string band bluegrass is music to drink to, and members Pee Paw, Skeeter and the Kooky-Eyed Fox may have been partaking, given the garbled remarks between songs and use of a crib sheet for lyrics. Is it against the code of the mountain folk to implement a teleprompter? When Detroit Cobras chanteuse Rachel Nagy later asked, ìSo, how about ídem Hackensaw Boys, is that some shit or what?î we didnít really know how to answer.

Those Cobras, glorified cover band though they are, have done their homework and set themselves apart from typical rubber bands by choosing obscure songs and reinventing the originals. This is why they were playing the Electric Factory instead of a rock and roll revue in matching outfits at Six Flags Great Adventure. The guitarist, wearing white pants after Labor Day, eluded the fashion police while outside the Factory, bootleggers selling unauthorized white Cake shirts fared less well against Phillyís finest.

After 100 years of rocking, Cheap Trick (Phillyís finest of another sort) lived up to their introduction as ìthe best fucking band this townís ever seen.î Robin Zanderís vocals were still sharp, and guitarist Rick Nielsen outdid Jimmy Pageís infamous double axe by three, playing ìSurrenderî on a guitar with five necks. Keeping things loose through new and old material, Cheap Trick exercised their rock pedigree to call Joe Dirt ìone of their favorite movies of the past 25 yearsî with a straight face (it doesnít hurt that the soundtrack features ìIf You Want My Loveî). Cake could have deferred the headlining slot to the homecoming elder statesmen, but whatever.

Between Cheap Trick and Cake, the PA system piped in a recording of the ìName Gameî over and over. What began as a sunshiny song that had the crowd rhyming names disintegrated into a session of mass torture by the eighth repetition. Even people in officially licensed Cake T-shirts were escaping out the exits. In a brilliantly orchestrated preemptive move, Cake mollified the restless crowd by opening with ìThe Distance,î their biggest commercial success, and essentially separated the audience wheat from the chaff. With radio fans departing, the seasoned fans feasted upon the slices of ìRock and Roll Lifestyleî that Cake served up. Vocalist/guitarist John McCrea was favorably impressed by the ìpowerful city [of Philadelphia] singing backup vocals.î The Unlimited Sunshine Tour closed the book on the summer, but eased the transition from outdoor to indoor rock events.