What do a soundman, a banker, a bartender, and a professor have in common?
We all get NEKKID! (Duh.)
And that's just what we used to do, week in and week out, after Doug asked Flathead and the Doctor to back him up for a solo show of his originals. It only took one look over the shoulder and a couple of beers to see that there was a stripped-down, white-trash, funny-as-hell, sounthern-rock hellhound on our tail.
There was only one thing to do: get NEKKID in public (where else?) after just one infamous rehearsal that started an old and honored tradition of drinking till we forgot all the songs we just learned, and then playing the gig.
After that damned dog caught up with our first couple of drummers, Neil sat down on the drum throne and hasn’t budged since. We got NEKKID in public all the time back then, all over the Southeast, from the late Nine Lives Saloon and Mulligans in Atlanta, to the Heavy Rebel Weekender in North Carolina, to the NASCAR race at Talladega.
Like Burt Reynolds said, the four of us were in NEKKID “for the money, for the glory, and for the fun…mostly for the money.†The money got spent on the cheap beers that made it all possible, so y'all know it was fun...
But all parties wind down eventually, and now that Doctor Rock has left for parts unknown, and Doug is moving to merrie olde England, we’ve all got this one last chance to get NEKKID at Twinkledome. And then maybe Heavy Rebel next summer. And after that? It ain’t like it’s hard to come up with an excuse to get NEKKID!
Some bands spend years chasing their rock and roll delusions of grandeur down the lost highway and end up sober, bitter, and confused. That ain't us! We just got NEKKID whenever and wherever* there was a stage and a bar tab and a couple of beers. So much love to all y’all, it’s been real fun, and here's to seeing you guys get NEKKID on the 18th!
*(We’re still waiting for Shakira to call. Especially if she’s NEKKID!)
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