Friday night The Gourds brought a little of their Lone Star-inspired lyrics and licks to the Bowery Ballroom. Playing their signature blend of bluegrass and deep-fried roots rock, the Austin quintet kept the somewhat smallish crowd dancing and singing along until well past midnight. Backwards baseball cap-wearing frat boys slammed beers while chubby lesbians groped each other and middle-aged couples grinded out of sync—everyone was having a good time and getting sloppy. Especially the band.
Jimmy Smith took a little tumble about halfway through the set—intentionally it looked like—as big-bearded Kev Russell held propositioning front-row groupies at bay. Oh, the life of the traveling musician—drink beer all day, play songs for a couple hours (and some of the most well-written songs in America in The Gourds case), and then sleep with strange, adoring fans. Wake up, repeat.