the Busstop Hurricanes were indeed fantastic, a

reincarnation of the Animals or Mitch Ryder & the

Detroit Wheels, and fronted by a mesmerizing, manic,

jittery singer we think was named Sammy, who looked

like a young, foppy Van Morrison. They're a meaty

band grounded in the rebel-rock anthems that came out

of 1960s garages (back when rock & roll was still

dangerous) and loaded with great, nasty,

offend-your-grandparents guitars. And what showmen!

Sammy, for his part, spent a good hunk of the set

crawling on top of the bar (when he wasn't falling

off it) while belting out high-test R&B. The only

weak moment arrived during their odd, awkward attempt

at esoteric jazzbo poetry ("Onion, my onion, when I

cut you, you make me cry, cry, cry!"—whathafuh?), but

mostly the band pinched off perfect music for laying

down rubber across open, foreboding highways. On the

very day when Screamin' Jay Hawkins left this planet,

we're sure that some of his spirit entered the bodies

of the Busstop Hurricanes on its way to heaven.

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