Irreverent Nashville act Birdcloud jam out in Orlando and upstage everyone

THIS LITTLE UNDERGROUND
The Goddamn Gallows, Birdcloud and Kingofalldrunks, Will’s Pub, Sep. 4

There’s a spectrum when it comes to subversive folk music, and the Goddamn Gallows are on the more extreme and obvious end of it. They’re less like the wicked intellect of the Legendary Shack Shakers and more like street pirates roughhousing with folk in a way that’s not too far afield conceptually from psychobilly, only minus the pompadours and makeup.
With a rock setup tricked out with stand-up bass, mandolin and banjo, these conspicuously styled Midwesterners are a hard mash of old folk tropes with the modern hard veins of punk and metal. It’s a self-consciously tough and lurid package that verges on camp. But they’re a fun-loving lot and, most importantly, a tight live machine with an airtight attack.
Opening tourmates were Nashville two-woman juggernaut Birdcloud, who first doubled me over a couple years ago opening up for the equally obscene Wheeler Walker Jr. at the Social.
In the grand tradition of dumb music made by smart people, their lecherous country-punk romps appeal to our most deliciously base instincts. However, their depth of gratification can actually reach a little higher than your fly so long as you get satire and aren’t some kind of prude. They may deal in stupidity, but it’s cunningly carved by razor wit, real comedic sense and some genius turns of phrase.
But by both design and occasional reaction (see pearl-clutching Exhibit A), their supreme embodiment of Southern culture on the skids ain’t everyone’s jar of tea. Whatever your personal artistic appraisal of them may be, though, what’s incontrovertible about Birdcloud is that they’re a big enough spectacle to be one of the most outrageous acts alive right now. And you can debate their feminism if you want, but watch the way the duo command a crowd and it’s impossible to say they’re not utterly empowered. With each performance, Birdcloud simply extend their trail of beer cans, split sides and cult followers.
Even though they weren’t topping the bill, the room clearly maxed out for them in a resounding return that should pave the way for Birdcloud to at last come back as a headliner. Besides, it’s only fair because these pistols will upstage almost anybody.
Local opener was Kingofalldrunks, a one-man band with one of the tidiest foot drum rigs I’ve seen. Like many one-man bands, his performance style is rough-cut. But his music’s the kind of punk that beats a heart of true-blue shama-lama rock & roll.
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