Whitey Morgan & The 78’s

Hey, did you hear? Honky-tonk’s back in style! Christ, hope you’re not falling for that crap – honky-tonk’s never gone anywhere, it’s just that you’ve been listening to a lot of awful “country” music in the interim. Morgan likes his twang old school, that is to say, two-fingers neat with a whole bunch of Outlaw Waylon, Merle and Willie to chase it. Unlike today’s crop of Music Row pretty boys playing their CMT-approved pop, Morgan, née Eric Allen, hails from Flint, Mich., a city of shuttered factories and broken dreams. He also looks like he just might’ve spent the night in County. Morgan’s answer to those woes? All the Telecaster string-plucking, gut-bucket bass and piano bar-rolls you can cram into a three-minute song about drinking your job/woman troubles into oblivion. Morgan could probably pick up some pointers from N.C.’s own honky tonk maestro, John Howie, Jr., about being a bit more subtle with the narrative fare, but then it says it right there on Morgan’s Bloodshot artist page: “My job is to show you how much fun drinking is.” So nuance isn’t exactly his strong suit. But then, that’s part of why we love our outlaws – they don’t mince words. Shelby’s Dirty Grass Soul opens. $8-$10. March 22, 9 p.m. Puckett’s Farm Equipment, 2740 West Sugar Creek Road. 704-597-8230.

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John Schacht has been writing about music since the Baroque era. He's interviewed everybody from Stevie Ray Vaughan (total dick) to Panda Bear (nice enough). He teaches a UNCC course called "Pop Culture...

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