Bob Log III

The Echo Presents

Bob Log III

Death Hymn Number 9, Bloody Death Skull, Kevin Dowlint Fitness Hour

Thu, April 6, 2017

8:30 pm

The Echo

Los Angeles, California

$11.50 - $13.50

This event is 18 and over

Bob Log III
Bob Log III
So when you see a man in a jumpsuit and full-face helmet rigged up with a telephone receiver come barreling down the honky-tonk stairs in a lifeboat while beating away on a hollow-body guitar, don’t get out of the way. Jump right in there with him. And as long as you live, you’ll never forget what he taught you.Taipei Times December 2015

A man in a human cannonball suit soon appeared from a side door, his head completely obscured by a tinted black helmet, its front welded into a telephone which seemed to wirelessly amplify his voice to the audience. Bob Log III launched into a mind-blowing set, finger-picking his beaten-up black guitar for a sound of steel string blues and heavy rock n’ roll. The sound was reminiscent of Jon Spencer Blues Explosion if it had to be categorised, but his music would be better described as Jerry Lee Lewis crossed with a little of Tom Waits’ heavy industrial sounds.yorkpress.co.uk 2012

His guitar growls like a rabies-infested mutt, straight from the backyard of an Alabama whorehouse. The expletives he squawks are absolutely unintelligible, at least while the groan of his six stringed demon viciously dominates the aural realm. When the blanket of perfectly distorted guitar ends, which always coincides with a great victory stance, Mr. Log displays his propensity for what is only describable as ‘not giving a fuck’, which in his case takes the form of the perfect stage presence. beatsperminute.com 2012

Boobs were dipped in scotch, one fan took an accidental swan dive into the music equipment and Bob Log III managed to play slide guitar, drums and sing while balancing three women on his lap. heyreverb.com 2011

Should you never have had the joy of seeing Bob Log III play, let me attempt to describe it for you: picture a man in a shiny blue jumpsuit and a pilot's helmet wired to a telephone receiver, playing slide guitar with all the dirty, scuzzy joy in his heart. Add to that a kick drum and foot cymbal, the myth of a monkey paw in place of a right hand, and a setlist that includes songs named Boob Scotch, Bubble Strut and My Shit Is Perfect, and you'll begin to get the gist. It is loud and strange and electrifying, and how ecstatic it all sounds, that guitar glazed with a kind of sublime and honey-dipped happiness. theguardian.com 2011

One would have to be in a pretty foul mood not to be entertained by the mysterious awesomeness of Bob Log III. Sure, his musical skills are something to behold, his one-man-band brand of blues/Americana displaying dexterity, creativity, and plenty of good old rock ‘n’ roll, but then there’s his wacky persona. At Monday’s packed Union Hall gig, Mr. Log leapt from behind the curtain that functions as the stage door in his signature getup: a full suit with bits of gold teasing at the bottom, and a dark-glassed racing helmet with a phone receiver wired as a mic. After a quick intro jam he shed the formality to reveal his shimmering gold full body suit, the very rocket man the audience had been waiting for, and burst into “Goddam Sounds Good” off the recently released My Shit Is Perfect. theowlmag.com

Bob Log III’s live shows are wild affairs. Bob likes to ride rubber dinghies across the heads of his audience and summon women onstage to stir his whiskey with their tits. nme.com 2009
Death Hymn Number 9
Death Hymn Number 9
Formed out of the murky Louisiana Swamp, these four denizens of somnambulance and limited brain power were a former backing band to Motown's greats, until abandoned at a routine gas stop in Baton Rouge in August 1965. In an act of brazen post-mortem activity, the band soldiered on, focusing their collective rage and wild abandonment issues into a thrashy, gross, fast, groovy, loud, hurt-feeling-fest of garage and punk rock bravado. After emerging from those garbage laden swamps, the band relocated to Los Angeles in late 2009 to annoy and harass the lazy bourgeois bar going public and teenage backyard house show attendee. Who knows what posthumous ridiculousness will ensue
Bloody Death Skull
Bloody Death Skull
This band was raised on Wild Kingdom and televised space shuttle launches. They sing about fun things like their favorite movies, science and the cosmos, flirting with boys, and understanding the prostitute psyche. Sometimes they cover songs, usually romantic numbers.

Musically, the band swirls together ukulele with whatever sounds, toys and instruments they enjoy into a pleasant, lo-fi pop sound, rooted in the sort of fun, sappy, playful and sneaky tunes you find in late-50s American Rock and Soul. Visually, the outfits, toys, lights and bubbling test tubes are a feast. It’s a PBS daycare playset. And physically, well, they’re a very attractive band too.

“Ramshackle, disorientingly dreamy folk”—Amoebablog
"Tin pan Dali"—American Pancake
“Psychedelic folk anarchy”—Don Bolles, The Germs
“No-boundaries, experimental ukelele-enforced pop”—Indie Rock Reviews
"Mock dirgy sock-hop…Imagine Wednesday Addams all grown up and kicking Kate Bush all over the lot." —L.A. Record
“The band’s self-labeled “creative absurdity” is subtle in the same manner circus music is creepy yet supernaturally enticing. Underneath the young girl coos, xylophones, ukulele, bells and shakers making it an interesting swirl of doo-wop, folk and punk, Feuer sings about anything she wishes no matter how morbid, naughty, or awkward it may be.—Buzzbands
Kevin Dowlint Fitness Hour
Venue Information:
The Echo
1822 W Sunset Blvd
Los Angeles, California, 90026
http://www.theecho.com