Hasil Adkins

My Insane Project continues, even to this day. I'm in the middle of Devo now, almost a quarter of the way through. So I have a lot of catching up to do if I want to write about it all. Sarah suggests I just write about selected artists if I want to get this done, but that somehow feels like cheating.

So anyway, Hasil Adkins. The concept of writing about him fills me with ennui, took me a bit to figure out why. Adkins, dead now, was a one man band from the back hills of West Virginia. I tried to see him two or three times, but every time he canceled the show within 48 hours of the gig because he was too busy doing that reclusive stuff one man bands do in rural West Virginia. Whatever that is. I'm sure I don't want to know.

At first I thought I had a block writing about Hasil because I had nothing new to say about him. Knew that wasn't quite it. After a time I realized this sentiment implies that I wouldn't necessarily recommend him to anyone who hadn't heard him yet. Which isn't quite right either. I mean, as far as clinically insane one man band rock and roll freak outs go, Hasil remains the master. He's got the full blast runaway caboose with the wheels loose energy that reminds you why rock and roll ever meant anything. His frenetic version of "High School Confidential" still is the most amazing thing this side of Jerry Lee Lewis' original. And even though a lot of Adkins' appeal is his humor, unlike most comedy or novelty records it still brings a smile to my face. Hard not to love someone who is having so much damn fun.

But then it hit me. One of the oddly moralistic aspects of aging is that cutting some poor girl's head off and hanging it on your wall just isn't quite as funny any more. Even if it is so she won't eat no more hot dogs, which is about as just a cause for murder as any I could name.