A Ghastlee Night at Gilly’s….The Sequel

Friday March 8 Gilly’s Jazz club hosted an evening of extreme musical diversity. Hardcore humored adult rated acoustic singing, a human mix master, sound-machine and beat boxer, a screaming electric Ukulele playing misfit, a trippy rock n roll splattering of horror fed haunted charm and the southern Grand Ole Opry, brought to you by Bloodline Video.  The show was in honor and celebration of the evening’s host and performer, legendary local TV personality, actor and Horror Host A Ghastlee Ghoul, who toyed with the crowd played naughty games, told jokes, made rude comments and headlines as only he can.

The ever charming, cussing, swearing gentleman Felix Wussington started the evening strapped with acoustic guitar and a wide array of lyrical poetry making beautiful prose out of STD’s, lesbians, killing your significant other, the reaper and amusing domestic violence. This tattooed R-XXX rated country punk talked the sh- about backyard body burial, a romantic interlude in the Y’s swimming pool and a tribute to Herbert West and his love of playing with dead things. It’s a good thing Wussington’s someone everyone wants to hang out with and Lives Across the Street from Heaven. It might save his songwriting soul from the reaper and eternal damnation, good thing All Dudes go to Heaven. Hmmm… he could’ve beat the devil, if only he played the fiddle. Mr. Wussington also has select tunes from his debut My Cthulu’s Showing on Soundcloud.

The power and talent of the human voice and throat is put on display as human beat box master Thomas Gardner hits the mic, spins the turntable, scratches some vinyl, plays with some techno grooves all with his voice. He’s a walking sub wolfer, PA, night club sound-system, in one shades/hoodie wearing bass heavy package.

Next up Dayton’s answer to a loud live horror movie, emanating trippy sounds of the 60’s drug scene Splattertude. Like a bad stain, they don’t come out. Fronted by the howling leather and laced demoness Susperia, MC himself bassist A Ghastlee Ghoul, the ghost faced guitarist Tony Tone and the skins destroying chrome faced Christmas Devil Louu Stahl. The House of 1000 Corpses opened and your Darkest Hour begins. You won’t carry a cross but you’ll have a handful of Black Roses swirling in a pool of dark dreams and persecution. War, murder it’s just a shot away Down the Rabbit Hole. They take us on a train-wreck voyage to the cinema wastelands of Cleveland.

The always handsome Uke playing tallywacker himself Henrique Couto brought his unique brand of showmanship once again to the Gilly’s stage partnered with his friend bass player multi-talent Jay Madewell.  Often accused or assumed as being a walking wardrobe malfunction Couto’s flashy appearance may clash with itself but overall adds to his undeniable talent for drawing a reaction whether by song lyrics or personalized humor and mastery of an instrument few have dared to unlock the mysteries of. Miley Cyrus is Pregnant with his two headed love child, and Couto doesn’t even have a love mullet. He plays Better than Nothing of his new CD That’s Loud and UPS’s his heart to a stalking admirer. He believes ‘educational films’ are bullsh- and gives everyone the lyrical finger with a laugh and smile playing his most popular iTunes song.  He finishes, with a tribute to the man of his dreams saying he’d do Anything Anything to be The Dream Master.

The sovereign Queen Victoria and the Reverbnation voted best blues player in Ohio the exalted Todd the Fox take the stage and swing, swagger and silhouette the sounds of the south and old-school/classic rock with a hillbilly twang that was sweet backwater honkey-tonk  strong.  Welcome to Detroit and the Hotel Yorba, such a lovely place. We party with Mr. John Fogerty and the Old Man Down the Road.  Spin the Stealers Wheel and worship Mr. Clapton then jam to some old-time country road blues with The Carters.  There’s a Little Ghost under the Blue Moon of Kentucky, so Sleep On a beautiful haunting lullaby from Alison Krauss. Oh Boy, I see a reflection of a Bad Moon Rising in the Clearwater, I see trouble on the way in the form of big bad Imelda May and the devil divine her Handsome Man. Miss Victoria can swing an acoustic just fine and hold her own on a mandolin with the sexy grace of a rockin country queen.