Next was familiar fave Tristen. What followed was a set of hook-heavy paeans to the lovelorn and love-weary from her debut album Charlatans at the Garden Gate performed by just Tristen, her sideman Buddy Hughen and a drum machine. To quote our terminally Midwestern former editor, “Kid's got money in her pocket.” Lots of it.
But The Spin stayed for the jangle, the clatter, the White Lightning-suffused, rockabilly-steeped stylings of Holly Golightly and the Brokeoffs. After we'd finished gawping at Lawyer Dave as he played drums with his feet, and sang and played slide guitar righteously enough to please Blind Willie Johnson's bottleneck, we settled into some boot stompin' and a cold can of PBR.
Apart from the inter-song repartee, you'd think you were listening to a bare-footed couple on a front porch in Appalachia, playing spoons and singing of intransigent hens. Golightly's voice was versatile — ethereally pure or scratchy. Before the set, she boasted of the group's tour-tightness, and she wasn't lying. Golightly and LD are an act to be seen live. Except in Utah. Never again in Utah. Apparently the LDS aren't “Gettin' High on Jesus.”