Chris Dyas, his pockets filled with facial expressions barely contained beneath a ball cap. Slightly self-deprecating and sarcastic, sadly cynical and smirky.
There’s a six-foot-two guru sitting in a chair knocking his bony knees together in rhythm, thumb-picking real Delta-style blues on an old Silvertone guitar.
There was a real sense of camaraderie, a feeling, on stage and off, that everyone was there to have some fun and, in the process, help an important club.
They jammed like veteran musicians, although the singer used lyric sheets. The singer roared majestically, and reminded me of Ted from 6L6 in a hat and shades.
From a bass line to a chill repetition of a phrase, caught the groove, then blasted their fluid rap-a-long, wah-saturated scream and ten ton guitar sound.
With only three members, 6L6 sledgehammer the audience. Ted bashies the glitter off his emerald green glam-boy bass, roaring like a 20 foot Lemmy monster.
The packed crowd bopped and smiled and bounced ’til I thought the floor would collapse. It took a verse to realize the song was “Heart of Glass.” Blondie. Cool.