I went to this show for Lucero, a band I’ve loved for over two decades. I didn’t even realize there was an opener, but when The Builders and the Butchers hit the stage, I was immediately glad there was.
Hailing from Portland, they fit right in with the “Yea, I wear Carhartt unironically but I will also punch a racist” crowd that Lucero tends to draw. They had all the energy you’d expect from the destitute, war-torn, impoverished town once called Portland. (To be clear, this is a joke — Portland’s got its problems, sure, but if you’re one of those people cheering for military deployment against U.S. citizens, get a fucking grip.)
Anyway, The Builders and the Butchers were great. Dual percussionists, some random fiddlin’, and what looked like grandpa’s hearing aid being used as an old-timey vocal filter — all of it worked. They’re the kind of band that feels both chaotic and completely in control, like a tavern brawl set to a bluegrass beat. This is the kind of shit you listen to while building something out of wood.
Then came Lucero, and as always, they were fantastic. Now, I have been a fan since 2002-ish, but in 2014, I discovered a cool trick: why study at a coffeeshop or library when you can study at your local bar, especially when they have $2 Tuesdays, where I got a beer and a whiskey sour for $4 (not counting tip, and always tip your bartender). Anyway, in this case, my usual bartender, Landon, would regularly play Lucero before Shane and some others would start upping the energy for the late-night crowds. Between the music, the booze, and the company of The Vault’s crack team, I earned myself a 4.0. Thanks, Landon (and Ben).
Anyway, Ben Nichols and crew have been doing this long enough to make their energy feel effortless. The Memphis swagger, gravelly voice, and tales of heartbreak and history, it all just works. They pulled songs from across their massive catalog — from Tennessee (2001) to When You Found Me (2021). I didn’t catch anything from 2023’s Should’ve Learned by Now, but to be fair, I spent a good chunk of time in line for the pisser. It happens.
Now, about Amigo the Devil.
Flash back to the year 2000 — I had just started going to a local community college and somewhere I had found a beat-up cassette of Tom Waits’ Bone Machine and damn near wore it out in my fucking Walkman. I can still picture myself walking across the Riverside Community College parking lot, listening to “In the Coliseum” and thinking, this shit is so damned weird — I love it.
So when Amigo the Devil took the stage — a guy I hadn’t heard before — I was instantly transported back to that feeling. AtD isn’t a blatant Tom Waits ripoff, but I would be floored if Waits isn’t a massive inspiration. The gruff growls coupled better than I would expect with the beat-to-shit banjo he was up on stage abusing. How the fuck I had never heard of him is beyond me. I’m actually mad at anyone who’s been keeping him to themselves all this time.
So, in the spirit of, uh, whatever the opposite of gatekeeping is:
Go listen to Amigo the Devil. Go listen to The Builders and the Butchers. And definitely go listen to Lucero.
And do yourself a favor and always try to make it to the openers. Because sometimes, the best part of a show you bought tickets for is discovering the band you didn’t know you were there to see.