New chick on the scene: City Newspaper's very own Jen Graney's soft contralto cut through the caffeinated bizz-buzz at Boulder Coffee when she warmed the stage for big boss man El Destructo. Her songs were riveting and dark, like Mazzy Star without the reverb (or the heroin) or Velvet Underground pal Nico without the atonality (or the heroin).

Skipped the bean scene for some High Fidelity, where The Meddling Kids rocked the joint as a trio with one man down from kennel cough. The girls down front dig it tight, bright, crunchy, and loud. So do I.

The Dynamics were wailin' away on Jimmy Reed's "Big Boss Man" as I strolled through the Dinosaur's doors. These guys sound fine, and rock that Texas back beat like the T-Bird's used to when they were "Butt Rockin.'" Funny; I stopped back for some more BBQ Saturday as Joe Beard was playing "Big Boss Man" too.

But the big, big boss man was The Reverend Peyton, who positively slayed the Flogging Molly crowd with his Big Damn Band. Irish show openers The Mighty Stef emerged from a Nick Cave wailing mid-tempo, minor, and cool. And of course Flogging Molly blew Water Street Music Hall's lid off, with homeboy Dennis Casey a daddy once again with the birth of his son a mere day before. FM showed off some fresh material that seemed a little less Celtic and a little more rock. It was sharp and punchy, and just as frenzied; a welcome addition to the band's tradition.

But like I was saying: Reverend Peyton, man. It was so gratifying to hear kids go berserk for some down-home country blues and boogie. Peyton slid and slapped his old rusty dobro like a maniac, while his wife bashed her washboard, and his little bother beat the bucket. They call the man Reverend, and his work on stage that night was pure secular sanctification, a clarion classification of red-blooded blues roots that will surely put the names of Furry Lewis, Charlie Patton, and Reverend Peyton in the crowds' heads, and hopefully in their emaciated iPods. Yeoww.