Hot Snakes Light The Oriental Theatre on Fire!

For anyone who doesn’t know the band Hot Snakes, or any of their member’s punk rock pedigrees (Drive Like Jehu, Rocket from the Crypt, The Sultans, Swami Records, etc…), let me paint the picture for you.

Your walking down the path of life. The Sun is Out. You’re minding your own business. As you round the corner you are stopped dead in your tracks by the unmistakable sound of a rattlesnake’s rattle. You freeze, only to find the serpent coiled directly underneath you, well within striking distance. Your heart pounds and sweat pours out of your skin. Adrenaline courses through your veins and as you try to run, the snake bursts into flames as it sinks it’s fiery fangs into your arm. The searing hot venom mixes with the adrenaline to form a supernatural “speedball of enlightenment” and you see can suddenly see and hear things that were once hidden in plain view. When you finally come down, you are changed. You have seen the other side. You want to see it again.

That is how I felt when I first heard The Hot Snakes many, many years ago, and that is how I felt once again, after finally seeing them live for the first time.

Now, I probably shouldn’t geek out too hard or too long, but for a “reunion” tour, they sounded tip fucking top. Wicked tight dueling guitars from founding members John Reis and Rick Froberg broadcast distorted beacons out over the massive ocean of Jason Kourkounis’ drums and Gar Wood’s bass guitar, while lead singer Rick Froberg’s vocals, as sharp and crisp as the day he and John Ries founded their first band, Pitchfork, in 1986, pulsed through my body like microwaves, invisibly energizing every molecule in my tingling body.

Some bands like to look cool. Some bands like to spend a lot of money on production and promotion. Some bands just want to write super fucking heavy and relatable songs about real life shit and out so hard they make you forget about all that real life shit. These are those guys. They may not sink a bunch of cash into stage clothes, banners, or bullshit, but they will melt your fucking face off.

Their latest album, Jericho Sirens, is out now on a tiny Seattle start-up called Sub Pop Records.