Almost 20 years ago, I took my then-new girlfriend (and now wife) down to a local joint in Columbia, Mo., and saw the Nighthawks tear up the place. The crowd was mostly thirty and forty-something townies. We’d never seen “old” people get so hot and bothered about music. I mean that literally. The folks were sweating so much that dancing became something of a Twister match. I think that was kinda the idea.
The Nighthawks still tear up the joint wherever they play. And The Mystix remind me a lot of that night years ago in Columbia, even if they and (especially) singer Jo Lily remind me a lot more of Bob Dylan’s recent output.
Not so much in the lyrics—Lily takes a more traditional and stripped-down approach to those. But the rollicking blues sound is in the same general corner of the universe, though The Mystix are certainly more rambunctious. Bobby Keyes’s guitar work is stellar, impressive both in terms of skill and feel. He knows how to set the table—and when to snatch the tablecloth from underneath the settings as well.
I’m sure these boys would be a good time down in the corner saloon, and they’ve put together an exceptional album as well. And now that I’m the same age as many of those “old” people I saw grooving to the Nighthawks all those years ago, I understand that it’s not only possible for us oldsters to get down, but that sometimes it’s absolutely necessary. And bands like the Mystix make it much easier for us to do our duty.