In the early 80's, when I was a wee bit punker, two of the coolest Rockabilly acts were Robert Gordon and the Stray Cats. They both were a modern link to the music of my daddy - the Everly Brothers, Elvis and Gene Vincent. At that time, Robert Gordon was a sexy, deep throated icon for all that was wonderful about the 1950's. But now he is a sad, premature aging testimony of the sordidness of the early bits of the last decade.
I think that someone should give him a copy of George Jones' I Lived to Tell it All. In this autobiography, George talks of his battle with addiction, his nasty temper and countless no-show performances. Maybe reading this book will clue Robert into the Truth! I think he is hell-bent for destruction. I have to admit that I have been out of the loop as far as Mr. Gordon was concerned for perhaps the last ten years. I saw the Tractor ad and thought maybe his come-back would be as wonderful as Wanda Jackson's so I decided to go (thanks Helen for the birthday present - she bought me the ticket!) Editor's note - you're welcome!
Robert wasn't touring with his own band, instead relying on pick-up bands to back him up. I surmise that this is due to him being impossible to work with. He took forever to get onstage. An acquaintance mentioned that she had seen him a few times in NYC and it would be a miracle if he did more than 2 or 3 songs. He sometimes doesn't even make it to his shows! His back-up band (Adam and the Ballard Playboys - members of various Seattle Rockabilly/country acts) had to play 3 - 4 songs to keep the audience warmed up while Mr. Gordon was doing God knows what. They played on valiantly despite ugly cat-calls from drunk, fat jock-like biker white trash losers. I thought they were stellar, especially Adam who played lead guitar and a lap steel.
When Robert Gordon hit the stage I was aghast. He looks much older than his 51 years and appeared to be ravaged by violence and substance abuse. He had several deep scars on his face which looked like old knife wounds and his hands were bloated and misshapen from what looked like several broken bones. Throughout his set he chugged on a pint glass full of straight whiskey.
Even his outfit was ghastly. Mr. Gordon sported a burnt sienna colored tux coat with shoulder pads, and a tight black t-shirt with a cummerbund. On his feet were scary new wave suede boots that looked like they were from Trash and Vaudeville (glam shop in the Village - NYC.)
Robert played a very short set and did a quickie version of the classic "Red Hot" for an encore. Of course he did his hit "Rockabilly Boogie," but I was diverted from the music by his constant mistreatment of his back-up band. He gave them ugly looks, told them how to play (when he was fucking up and they were on.) He seemed to be more interested in pandering to the obnoxious slobs who kept screaming "Robert Gordon" in Neanderthal speak than in rocking out.
On this night, KCMU's Rockabilly Hell really did live up to it's name. Unfortunately for all in attendance, and also for Mr. Gordon. A sad state of affairs indeed.