DIRTFOOT
10 p.m., Maxine’s, $5.

Swill some whiskey on the front porch out on the countryside with a carefree, jubilant hippie girl twirling her dress in the front yard after burning some hand-rolled tubes, and you’re on your way to the vibe this Shreveport, La., group should create down in Spa City. Heavily laced with percussive toys, subtle flavors of punk and grumble-country, funky hooks, horns, witty storytelling and an overall sound designed to shake moneymakers, this six-piece has discovered the rare formula that appeals to both the festival and intimate pub crowds. With acoustic instruments pumping out energy and ingenuity that you’d swear was electric, from upright bass, banjo, pots, pans and bells, the end result is a sexy, festive gumbo. Something about the way they grow musicians down in Louisiana continues to impress, and if you don’t want to wait until October to see them in action again in Arkansas along with newfound Wakarusa mates Damn Bullets, draw straws for a designated driver and treat yourself to some voodoo lunacy.

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Paul Peterson

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