The Jesus Lizard. Variety Playhouse. Atlanta, GA. Dec. 18, 2024.

5 hours ago

The common basilisk, a species of lizard in the Corytophanidae family, is a remarkable reptile native to the tropical rainforests of Central and South America. Often called “the Jesus lizard,” it earns this nickname due to its extraordinary ability to gain momentum and run across water for brief distances when fleeing from predators. Formed in Austin, TX, in 1987, and soon after relocating to Chicago, IL, the Jesus Lizard band became known for its intense, guitar-driven noise punk rock, characterized by depraved, howling lyrics and one of the tightest rhythm sections to be in the business. Much like their reptilian namesake, the band’s frontman, David Yow, is renowned for his ability to “walk on water” or more accurately, across the sea of people who have gathered to see the veteran act perform, a phenomenon that has continued for nearly four decades.

Having just released their latest album, Rack, after 26 years, the Chicago-based four-piece returned to Atlanta’s Variety Playhouse, greeted by a sold-out crowd. The venue, familiar to the band from their last performance in 2018 and years past, hosted a reunion of sorts. It felt like a group made up of your favorite uncles that haven’t been around to see the kids in a while who brought presents just in time for Christmas. I first saw the full band in 2009, thanks to Georgia music archivist and legend Henry “Chunklet Magazine” Owings. That particular show still remains the only proof I’ve witnessed that the towering red curtains of the Variety Playhouse actually move. Early arrivals to the show were treated to a 45-minute set from local working band and Atlanta music scene favorite, The Compartmentalizationalists. Say that one time fast. The lounge jazz/60s surf-psychedelic trio consists of drums (provided by Sean Zearfoss), bass (accompanied by Mitch Lau), and guitar (fronted by mastermind Jeffrey Bützer), occasionally joined on stage by saxophonist (Ben Davis). Friends and fellow musicians in the crowd barked and cheered with enthusiasm, clearly proud of their fellow friends and musicians. Even for those of us who didn’t know the performers personally, it was impossible not to feel a sense of pride for the trio on such a special night.

The trio’s sound is a blend of reverb-drenched guitar, thick, wood-stained bass, and drums with a distinctive rhythm that at times was reminiscent of falling down stairs with style. A tight-knit group indeed. I felt like I had gone from a twilight glistening desert all the way to the far reaches of outer space. A rare and unexpected highlight came when they performed a cover of a Neil Young excerpt from the 1995 film Dead Man, directed by Jim Jarmusch and starring Johnny Depp. For me, and many others I’m sure, it was as close as I would ever get to hearing that piece of music in a live setting, a truly unexpected and appreciated experience. Classical elements fused with radical experimentation as the group reached wild crescendos, and chaotic bursts of excitement sometimes punctuated by Bützer, using a toy ray gun to slide across the pickups to conjure a space oddity sound that added a futuristic twist to their night lounge garage rock. A sound you immediately feel familiar with, but not quite sure where it was you heard it last. Vintage and up-to-date at the same time.

In between sets, the house speakers blasted classic 60s Motown hits and 70s funk anthems, lulling the crowd during the 30-minute wait before the inevitable eruption from the stage. Not the kind of music you would think to hear when you’re about to rock. But, it’s good to be diverse and not so one-dimensional. It is the Variety Playhouse after all. A good subtle calm just before you’re about to let loose all the energy you’ve had pent up from the anticipation of this moment. Being an aging concertgoer, I find myself often surveying the crowd, noting the mix of young and older faces as I danced in place to Parliament’s Flashlight. Gotta keep the blood flowing after all. Can’t let your knees go stiff. Suddenly, with no warning, the four horsemen of Chicago took the stage, the music abruptly stopping as the crowd stood to attention, applauding their arrival. Standing about two people from the stage, I braced myself, directly in the path of what I call the “Yow Zone.”

Like a punch to the face, the crowd was hit with the opener to 1992’s Liar, “Boilermaker.” No holds barred. No time to breathe, just go. Crowd man David Yow held back from his usual antics of forcing the crowd to carry the weight of his body after diving face first into a sea of strangers. Snarling, spitting, howling into the microphone as the crowd takes the blow from the opening of what ended up being a 23 track setlist. A man you don’t want to take your eye off of, clad in distressed jeans and cowboy boots he’s known for wearing (that’s the Texas in ‘em surely) seems eager, but reserved to get out into the crowd as he stomps and yanks at his clothes. Make them wait. They’re not quite ready yet. The crowd is slow to start moving around, still subdued from what one would usually expect from a Jesus Lizard show. Grins painted on the faces of those around the stage mirroring the wide, gaping mouths of those shouting back the lyrics they’re familiar with heard from the front to the back of the house. Yow’s vocals mimicking a kidnapped victim tied up and gagged, desperately trying to scream for help.

Bassist David Wm. Sims held down stage right, laying the brick and mortar for what God intended the bass guitar to sound like. Each note struck was met with a corresponding foot stomp from the crowd below. Crunchy, heavy, direct, driving. If there ever was a machine made for playing bass it’s Sims. His stage stature reflective of a concrete pillar, a stance made strong from his playstyle, Sims stared ahead almost possessed by the rusty chain-like rattle of his four string Memphis Jazz bass. Opposite Sims, Duane Denison, a guitarist’s guitarist, unleashed shrieking, screeching riffs reminiscent of sounds spanning from the saloon-ridden licks of country and rockabilly to hardcore punk and experimental styles that shout back to the likes of Greg Ginn and the Butthole Surfers. An all around cool guy. Calm. Collected. I swear I didn’t see a bead of sweat on the man’s forehead. Denison is a guitar player highly respected by guitar enthusiasts and musicians alike. A very “technical” guitar player I’m told by my close friend, also in attendance with me. That’s coming from someone with a better understanding of the execution of music than myself. I was always more of a drum and bass player myself. At the helm of this small herd sets, Mac McNeilly, driving a stunning Ludwig drum set accompanied by Paiste cymbals, perched above the rest like a foreman overseeing a courtyard holding control of everything that is rhythm and time signatures. Pounding away with an energy and enthusiasm that showcases a level of commitment to his craft that most people half his age could only dream of. There are drummers who simply love to play, and then there are those who live to drum. It’s evident from McNeilly’s face that he falls into the latter category, and noticeably visible in the focused, strained expression he wears after each song. Strained, but happy. Exhausted yet completely absorbed in the music, he gives each performance his full undivided attention. Together, these four elements create the perfect example of rock, a powerful reminder of the blueprint framework that many up-and-coming bands should look to as examples of what raw power, good song writing, and a punk-like attitude can produce for one’s ears to welcomingly endure.

As the set moved through classics like “Glamorous,” “Puss,” and “Seasick,” the band paused to dedicate one song to long-time friend and collaborator, the late, great Steve Albini. Albini famously described Slint member Britt Walford with the memorable, “Don’t get me wrong, he’s a nice guy, I like him just fine, but he’s a mouth breather,” a line that inspired the title and lyrics of the track dedicated to his name. It was also during this time that we witnessed the miracle that is David Yow “walking on water.” While crowd surfing and stage diving are common, no one does it quite like Yow. Some might argue that he’s slowed down with age, but if that were the case, he wouldn’t do it at all. One bad fall could end a career after all. Not for David Yow though. Dropping to his knees and crawling onto the sea of hands that rose from the crowd like blooming flowers, microphone in hand with an impossibly long cable trailing behind him, Yow set sail on the rough waters made up of flesh, bone, and sinew. An art Yow has perfected across countless cities, countless hands.

Like a slow boat drifting toward Hades, paddles forgotten at the wharf, the crowd cradled his squirming, salamander body, directing it around the crowd introducing him to new and old faces alike, careful not to drop the now 64 year-old part time actor. But, David Yow is wiggly, so for the brief moments where he did take a short fall, the crowd was quick to hoist him back above their heads and parade him right back to his port on the stage. Fully immersed in the chaos, Yow’s ability to work the crowd remained as sharp as ever. Throughout the night, he ventured out into the crowd four or five times, each time bringing his devil-may-care energy with him. Other notable crowd work which he’s known for included: complimenting a fan’s bright neon orange shirt, borrowing a man’s glasses to see how they fit him, using someone’s head as a prop to steady himself for what seemed like forever, sacrificing a table stool to the crowd (its fate unknown as I never saw the poor thing again). He also threw back every gift the crowd sent up to him, showing he’s a man that already has everything he wants in life. Shoes, beers, a hat, and, at one point, I think a bra (though whether it ever made it back to its rightful owner, I can’t say).

Forty years is a long time for any band, but for some, to still be doing it with the same passion and energy as they did when they started is a rare thing to see. Between songs, David Yow and the rest of the band took a moment to acknowledge the crowd, applauding them for the love and energy they had received in return. “Being out here… it’s still a blast,” Yow told the audience near the end of their nearly two-hour set. The performance spanned a mix of fan favorites, including “Nub,” “Gladiator,” “Chrome,” and “Then Comes Dudley,” while also introducing new tracks from their latest album, such as “What if?” “Hide & Seek,” and “Moto(R)”. The unexpected return of the faithful four has been a very welcome one. A surprising new album put out via Ipecac Recordings this past September and an announcement of a tour to follow shortly after? It being just days away from Christmas, I’ll go ahead and consider all that to be the cheer and well-being I need for the holidays. Even if it comes in the form of a man with an open red button up shirt and scraggly beard, backed by a brickhouse of a band trudging along like a locomotive, yelling at me to “Get her out of the truck!” He must be talking about presents.