Head Chinchilla Pete Anvelt is a great songwriter. His wit is dry, wry, and sly. And the whole band -- the vehicle for his stinging witicisms -- shifts smoothly from straight-ahead barroom rock ‘n' roll to country bang ‘n' twang with a few nods tossed in to Dylan and Hank I. In other words, The Chinchillas are the perfect band.

The band played as the sun set on Abilene's patio Thursday night. It had a sort of post-tornado feel, as if the band were playing in a joint that had its roof ripped off mid-set and didn't bother to look up or stop playing. The Fitsner's Ted Keaton jumped up for some fun on one of the songs with the band. Incidentally, did you see his wife's shoes?

Songs about Genesee beer, plane crashes, and dreams of a better life in a double-wide trailer (on a song Southern Culture On The Skids wishes it wrote) cracked me up and sent me home smiling and singing songs, some I'd only just heard for the first time.