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The first time I saw Pistol Pete and Popgun Paul was on a double bill with Yolanda on the day after May Day on the patio of a half-finished straw bale house on the side of a hill in rural Tennessee. Perhaps this was the best audience either could hope for: a room full of Radical Faeries, tired from the previous night's festivities, and emotionally open, even vulnerable. I have seen people cry at performances, but never openly sob the way they did that day.
Having seen them under such near-perfect conditions, one might wonder whether it was really the environment or the performers that stood out. But I have seen Pete and Paul play live a number of times now, and each time, as their music grows on me more and more, I become more sure that it was the latter.
Pete and Paul even stand out in their hometown of New Orleans - and as anyone who has been to that music city can tell you, that is quite a feat. The music is influenced by New Orleans and by country, jazz, blues, rock, and folk, blending into unique songs that span a variety of musical possibility, all explained with the meaningful and accessible lyrics describing a specific and universal set of experiences and understanding.
It was in their hometown that I saw them for the second time. They played a club called the Funky Butt, and somehow I ended up being the guy at the door collecting the money. The house was packed with their fans, and if you know anything about New Orleans, to pack a house with people who paid to get in is pretty amazing.
They played upstairs while a jazz band played on the first floor. A number of people came to the upstairs door, heard a little music, and came in. I got a special kick out of watching a few tourist families come in, drawn by the music, and then, in the middle of "Jesus Loves the Little Faeries" or "Superfag," slip out the back. On the other hand, one man came to the door, listened, and said "I'll be back, I'm listening to the wrong band." He returned with five people, who stayed through the rest of the show.
And that show was awesome. There was an array of humor-infused, charged numbers such as "What If God Were a Homo" and "I Wanna Be a Mailman." Their humor has an edge, but is not simple. It's the kind of humor that provokes laughter and thought; they are clearly not out just to make you laugh, they have something they want to tell you, and it's worth hearing.
But there were also plenty of sweet ballads, influenced by country and bayou, telling of life in the grittiest of cities with an honesty that you won't find in travel literature. In a song called "5 Chinese Brothers," Paul describes a night on the town after breaking up with a lover: the ways and desperation involved in 'getting over it,' only to find yourself miserable and no more over him in the morning. His voice growls with each turn of the story, he pounds the piano with an energy that one can't help but recognize. I suspect we have all been there.
Of course, there were other attractions. Paul in a tux playing a baby grand was thoroughly sexy, and it was a treat to see Pete singing out song after song to appreciative fans, gay, straight, and - as is the tradition of New Orleans - everything in between.
Right now, the duo is on a national tour, driving around in their minivan between places such as Missoula, Montana, and Madison, Wisconsin. The tour will bring them this way in late August and early September for two dates, and I'm excited about having them here. Their Glamfolk, as they call it, should be quite at home in Vermont. They have a wide appeal, and win over audiences with ease.
For anyone looking for anything out of the ordinary, something queer beyond the latest dance mix from Cher and a bit more meaningful, Pete and Paul are well worth experiencing.
Chris Moes is a local troublemaker and music aficionado.
