Review: Reverend Horton Heat sizzles

As one of the Sub Pop label's original ragers, guitarist Reverend Horton Heat holds a place in the hearts of '90s-era indie kids as the guy who gave them psychobilly: hard rockabilly riffs, meth-speedy solos infused with country-swing clicks, and cool jazz licks backed by breakneck rhythms and accompanied by snarky hedonistic lyrics and catcall vocals.

You could tell the mostly over-40 crowd that packed Underground Arts on snowy Friday night craved the Reverend's down-and-dirty stuff, especially considering his last several albums before 2014's satisfyingly manic REV were softer affairs of the heart.

Heat's hillbilly showcase featured rockabilly crooner Robert Gordon as part of the trio's set, with two of Austin's finest - classic country defender Dale Watson and "Rockabilly Filly" Rosie Flores - as openers.

The Heat trio - the good Reverend, bassist Jimbo Wallace, drummer Scott Churilla - started with REV's most bracing cuts, the menacing instrumental "Victory Lap" and the heart-racing "Smell of Gasoline," and never let up the hardcore pace. Heat grrrrr-purred through "Zombie Dumb," made a sweet swing break into "It's Martini Time" and let the rhythm mellow to an elegant tango within "Let Me Teach You How to Eat." All the rest (Heat hits like "Galaxy 500") were hot-n-heavy rave-ups.

It was a wonder big baritone-voiced Robert Gordon kept up with Heat's harried gate when he appeared with that trio, tackling a hiccuping "Rockabilly Boogie," a spooky "The Way I Walk," and other Gordon classics. He nailed them and then some.

Hey, Heat and Gordon were just lucky they kept up with their openers. The treasured Dale Watson was a hilarious, homey treat: joking about his white pompadour, smiling through cocktail lounge-music ads for Lone Star beer, throwing in breezy guitar licks from The Andy Griffith Show theme, all while lending his prickly honky-tonk tunes a genial, cutting wit. Graced with a deep, fluid George Jones-ish voice (an artist Watson reveres, even imitates), Watson was mesmerizing, whether making fun of The Voice's faux-country judge on "Old Fart (Song for Blake") or simmering through a train-chugging original such as "My Baby Makes Me Gravy."

As for guitarist/subtly emotive singer Rosie Flores, she might've looked like animation favorite Peggy Hill, but her tough, taut country licks were sweet and sinewy - especially during a country-punkish cover of Sex Pistols' "Pretty Vacant" and a quick but slinky "'59 Tweedle Dee."