It was a little weird going to a show at 5 o’clock in the afternoon and it wasn’t one of those huge festival things.  There were at least four scheduled performances but I kind of chuckled to myself thinking maybe the reason why it started so early was because the geriatric ward would finally realize it’s missing a few patients (ha, that was for my new friend “Pops” at the bar).  Yes, the first thing I noticed when I walked into the Brick by Brick was that it was a more mature audience.  More than a few snow-haired beer bellies and faded tats, but they were all full of smiles.  They were definite seasoned show hoppers and everybody knew everyone.  Unlike many of the shows I’ve gone to where all the young bucks huddle in their clicks, this crowd greeted each other like it was a family reunion.  And in a sense, it was.  They all gathered together to celebrate the self-titled release of Joey Harris & the Mentals.  Without having to plagiarize the press release, Harris has been a music veteran since—well frankly, since before some of you readers were born.  But don’t mistaken “old” for lame because if there was one thing this show did was rock the hell out of that misconception.

           The rockin’ bar blues sound of Joey Harris & the Mentals is reminiscent of the glory days of spilt beer, smoke-filled poolhalls, and sweaty bodies dancing to the band.  And don’t think for one minute that any part of the show slowed down, because it didn’t.  Playing from the newest self-titled release, Harris spit killer blues riffs out from the guitar and rocked it right on to the audience—so hard, in fact, he pretty much broke his guitar in the middle of the performance.  “Don’t Seem Like Love,” “Apologies to Randy Newman,” “Baby You’re a Star,” and “Get Out of My Way” showed the kiddie musicians of today how a show is supposed to look and sound—damn good.  Harris did joke he was admittedly nervous to perform that night even though he’s done this a million times before.  But just like a pro, none of it showed.  He did expose his more emotional side by giving a toast to the spirits (Country Dick Montana; Beat Farmers) who were with him on stage and played for them a solemn tune called “Don’t Go”.  But the one song that tore down the club was a little ditty entitled “Little Boy.”  “Little Boy” has got a big sound with each band members sounding off a solo.  And to add more hot sauce on the barbeque was the Mudshark-man himself, Scottie “Mad Dog” Blinn who joined them onstage for that last song.

          I saw my new friend Pops at the bar again.  He joked to me about making sure I didn’t lose my milk money on the playground and I threw back at him to make sure he changed out his Depends diapers between each set.  “You like the music, kid?”  “Yeah, I did Pops, thanks.”  He bought me a shot and said, “You know, music like this is a dying breed.”  “Yeah?  I don’t know Pops, it sounded pretty damn alive tonight!”  We slammed our shots and gave a goodbye hug, both of us having the knowledge that if there’s good music, there is no age gap. . .just a good time.