Review: The Goddamn Gallows at the Grey Eagle

What to expect from a band that bills itself as “gutterbilly?” I mean, Asheville has seen its share of freight-hopping, old-time music buskers sawing on fiddles and clawing at banjos in front of Woolworth Walk, so that’s pretty well-covered ground around here. And country/metal/bluegrass/punk/psychobilly crossbreeds have deep roots in the city to the extent that it’s a standard genre at joints like Fleetwood’s.

But The Goddamn Gallows have been doing their hobo-grass thing since forming in Detroit nearly 20 years ago, and they’ve built a rep for putting on a show that is something to witness at least once. Add in a set from IV and the Strange Band and you’ve got me curious. (If you guessed IV is the son of Hank III and the latest of the Hank Williams musical lineage, bingo to you.) Throw in an opener by a Nashville outfit named VOLK, and, hell, put the dogs out back, because we’re going to a show.

It was a light but loyal crowd at The Grey Eagle on June 15, and one with decidedly punk leanings. As I said, the word is out on the not-so-secret affair between country music, punk rock, and metal. You keep the outsiders outside long enough and they’re going to find each other at the smoking table, right? But still, a Colter Wall patch sewn onto a black denim vest next to a Misfits skull earned a second glance. Also: I had only just recently raved about the trend of shows starting on time as billed, especially at The Grey Eagle. But a three-act country punk showcase seems like the time to break that streak, and by 30 minutes past showtime, the bands were still going over sound check. Besides, it’s daylight savings time — the sun is still up at 8 p.m. How punk is that?

When the show fired up, VOLK had the honors of reining the crowd in from the patio. The duo — Eleot Reich on drums and vocals and Christopher Lowe on guitar — tore right into the set, continuing the tradition that, if there are only two of you, you better make some noise. And noise they made, but despite their matching white cowboy hats, VOLK delivered rousing, poppy, ‘80’s style hard rock with a hard nod to Joan Jett and the Blackhearts. 

Both musicians had the skills to hold down a tight set, but also the charisma and humor to drive a captivatingfun show. Reich beamed as she growled out lyrics while keeping the drums busy enough to blow her hat off.  Following one guitar shredding performance on the song “Snake Farm,” Lowe proclaimed: “I guarantee you are not going to hear a better imitation of a Jack White guitar solo tonight — on this stage – from this band.” And that was before Lowe scuffed his white pants walking around on his knees or took his guitar solos out into the audience to rock faces face-to-face. VOLK’s schtick was fun, and even more fun knowing that they were in on it. If you ever need a party band, you could do worse than choosing — as Lowe called it — “The world’s greatest hype band – VOLK!”

Next came IV, with his Strange Band. Long haired and lanky, with an acoustic Epiphone in hand, IV started out with some country twang while promising the audience, “We’ll get wild in a minute,” to head off expectations for the kind of yowling twang metal his dad made big. IV has a songworthy country voice boasting a warbling tremolo on tunes like “Hang Dog,” or a low growl on “I’m Gonna Haunt You.” True to his word, IV set off into some heavier numbers, including “Deep Down” and “Son of Sin,” the latter of which opens his 2022 album, Southern Circus, and then introduced a song in the Texas swing-style he said was about people “killing their husbands or wives,” adding: “Just get divorced, goddamnit. Don’t do that.” It was one of many PSAs IV had for the crowd that also included a nod to all the loyal of pets at home: “Tell your animal that they are a cool dude.” Both good points.

IV has a solid stage palaver, and his asides are reminiscent of a carnival barker or a snake oil salesman. But musically and topically, he has some ground to cover if he wants to be known for more than his relatives.

Thanks to the modest crowd, I was able to get up to the stage and inspect the setup for The Goddamn Gallows ahead of their appearance, counting three banjos, a couple of guitars, an upright bass, a setlist written on the page torn from a pin-up magazine, and a taxidermied cow’s head draped over an amplifier. If I wanted clues as to what was coming, this all sent me in a few directions. What I got, though, was a pretty dang fun show from a group of pretty dang fun musicians. The four-piece — Mikey Classic on vocals and guitar, Fishgutzzz on vocals and upright bass, Uriah Baker aka “Baby Genius” on drums and Jayke Orvis on mandolin — romped through a set of songs full of devils, revenge, booze, death, and disease.

Sounds like a hoot, right?

Well guess what? It was! The songs from The Goddamn Gallows are fun. Sure, they’re wrapped around some dark (like…dark) lyrics, but the music isn’t sinister or maudlin. It’s not death metal or scream core — it’s more like pirate music: forebodingly jaunty. And some in the audience obliged the mood with a kind of shanty-skank as Mikey Classic — in between lines about famines, cults, and doom — clowned and mugged for the kids down front. And I don’t mean “kids” in the punk-rock-anyone-who-is-not-ancient-is-a-kid way. I mean the group of children there dancing, having a blast, and probably staying up later than I (not even a “kid” in the punk sense) did. 

The Goddamn Gallows are spooky the same way a haunted house ride, a ghost story, or Halloween is — it may be eerie, but you’re supposed to have a good time. And when bassist Fishgutzzz leaned into his vocals, his eyes bugged out the way they do when someone tells a frightening tale with a flashlight illuminating their face. (Disclaimer: I am not suggesting bringing your kids’ birthday party to a Goddamn Gallows show. While a good time was had, the act is absolutely rated “L” for language. Or maybe “XL” for a whole lot of language.)

Alongside their antics, The Goddamn Gallows can play. Mikey Classic extracted some good psychobilly licks from his Gretsch hollow body and got some driving banjo into a few songs. And Orvis, rather than picking at the mandolin, pounded at it, ripping out of it some impressive riffs. Then, on “7 Devils,” he switched over to a banjo, run through what sounded like a MIDI fiddle effect, giving it an excellent haunted sound.

I’ll let some sociologist or psychologist or some other -ologist do the analyzing of the band’s lyrics of hard times, hobo life, untimely death, or the wonton mass destruction portrayed in “The Maker.” But The Goddamn Gallows did have some lines that hit the mark, and there’s not much better indictment against the broken promises of the American Dream than the line, “They gave us the ocean, but there’s a hole in the boat,” from “Down with the Ship.”

Then again, the band also got most everyone there repeating the incantation from “Raise the Moon” — “Gonna have a party/Gonna raise the moon/We all know he’s coming soon.”

So, we may have conjured the devil or whatever, but come to think of it, if VOLK is busy, The Goddamn Gallows would be a pretty fun band to have at the party as well.

(Photos by Brian Postelle)

IV and the Strange Band

VOLK