Molly Gene One Whoaman: The Handlebar

The Handlebar in Greenville, South Carolina hosted a show for Molly Gene One Whoaman Band. Jason Robinson caught Molly Gene in action.


 The day began with me dropping the kids off at school, then blasting the volume on Molly Gene’s new record as I pulled out of the school parking lot. I was pondering how to spend the day, for happily I had nothing but time until nightfall when Molly Gene One Whoaman was to play The Handle Bar in Greenville, SC. My buddy (who has a bread route) called to say he was running late due to a minor car wreck. His bad day would become a blessing for me along with the planets alignment timing as we spent the whole day on the route, hustling and bustling to finally get finished about 7:30PM.

The show was scheduled to start in about thirty minutes and I was about forty miles away. I climbed into my trusty ’96 Chevy, only to realize that my sunglasses were nowhere to be found. The day was nice, springlike except for the meek wind which was blowing pollen around to tickle my nose and remind me I was out of Zyrtec. I took the liberty of visiting the Dollar Tree next door and purchased a pair of dark shades for one American dollar. Then it was hauling ass to Greenville, SC while jamming to some Molly Gene singing how she needed “a country lover”.  The ride was smooth until I got to the actual downtown area.

The thing is,  I am not one for driving in the city. I loathe it. You can give me a country road any day and it will not offend me whatsoever. Well, fate would have it, it was around a little after 8PM and I was lost. To me, Greenville is like New York City. Everything is foreign to me. I looked up the address on my GPS on my phone which took me to a Church in the middle of what seemed to be nowhere. After many cuss words, failed attempts at GPS and a call to a friend who lived in the area, I finally arrived at Greenville’s Handlebar.

The Handlebar is a great place to see a show and I have been there a handful of times, once to see the legendary David Allen Coe a few summers ago. Tonight’s show was not to be in the Concert Hall, but in the kitchen/bar with a cozy feel.

Walking in, I met Molly Gene and Jay and we spoke for a few. The day’s hard work, anxiety of the trip and the allergies which had made my throat scratchy all had me thirsty for Pabst Blue Ribbon. Not having a huge budget to work with I chose to limit how many PBRs I would consume. Molly Gene’s set was up and I found me a table right up front to absorb it all.

Molly was like a weapon of mass destruction equipped with guitars, pedals, harmonicas and the very awesome kick drum. The kick drum had me in a spellbound phase all evening as my tab of PBR was growing. It was like watching a stick of dynamite go off to listen to her stomp her cowgirl boots and to wail out Kurt Cobain-like vocals. It was the third song where somethinginside of  me wanted to holler out loudly “Play Queens and Kings” but I never did. But by golly if Molly didn’t actually play what was one of my favorite tracks. It was the slowest song she had in her arsenal.

Going back to the bar, I was well over my budget in the PBR and asked the bartender to give me “Two Pabst’s, please” (because I need two in case one broke down) and he chuckled and gave me my debit card back. The crowd was a small one but a good one for a Monday night. She made a hilarious comment about “Her drummer” later in the set as we all know that she is the “One Whoaman Band”. She pressed her twangy romping and stomping blues for a good 90 minutes.

Molly is doing some impressive shows and is the modern definition of true Punk Rock Blues. So if she is in your neck of the woods, do go out and support great music. Thanks to Janet Archer along with the staff of The Handlebar for the booking and for wonderful Hospitality.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

~ Jason Robinson

Photos courtesy of Jason Robinson

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Jason Wallace Robinson hails from Spartanburg, South Carolina. He’s a writer, storyteller, philosopher, single father raising two children, music lover, dreamer, joker. He writes to speak for the Common Man. He enjoys football and driving around in his ’96 Chevy Lumina adorned with an American Flag and decorative bird offerings.

Outlaw Magazine. Country, Rock and Roll, Blues, Folk, Americana, Punk. As long as it is real, it is OUTLAW. Overproduced mediocrity need not apply.

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