Jenny Don’t and the Spurs - Plaza Stage, St Johns Bizarre, Portland OR - May 11, 2019


[from Portland OR]: I’ve noticed this band’s name since I moved here because I always think they’re from Austin when I hear their name – they’re not. They’re Portland, but they definitely embrace a sound that was popular in Austin, revival classic country. At first, I got glinty eyed because I thought they were mocking the genre but they weren’t. They were just the lite version and I can’t explain why. Mostly I couldn’t connect with the lead singer. I wasn’t convinced by her as an old-time country torchess or even a contemporary cowpunker. I’m a jerk because she could do the mourning spaghetti western style. And the more rowdy rockabilly style, but her voice just isn’t that great. The winged eyeliner? The big smile? They are great musicians. The tore up bassist in his embroidered pearl snap and gretsch. The guitarist was a dead ringer for the Green Zebra guy who rings up my lattes before work, but with moustache. He played a double-necked guitar and, nicely, a pedal steel. The drummer was so so old and tired, mostly the latter. This appears to be a hard-partying band, outside of the lead singer. So, with this the first show of my first St Johns Bizarre festival, I attended to the crowd. It was an unseasonable (to put it mildly) 90 degrees in Portland in May and sweat was dripping from all sorts of body parts. St Johns is a strange part of Portland – sometimes I really love it (it’s got the rundown hippie feel of Austin), but sometimes it feels too rural. It’s actually got a strong minority presence that is being pushed out like other parts of north Portland. So I got a bite to eat before and a seeming Native American person working there was telling his coworker that hell no he hadn’t attended the parade that started the whole thing because, white people. So, like often, race was on my mind. The event was pretty white. Oregon’s poor rural white people. But also Portland’s hip white people – pink pointed hat, lime green shirt, pink leggings, I saw you. A femme dreadhead guy. Lots of babies. One baby was clinging to his dad’s gold chain to keep place on his chest, so there was some mix, you know.

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