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This is a saved page of A Wylde night for hard-rocking beer drinkers (Reuters) This is a copy we made of the page on 24-Oct-2006. The original page may or may not still be availible and pictures and text may have changed since then. Click Here to view the original page at the original website. |
By Mick Stingley Mon Oct 23, 9:40 PM ET
It was a real rock 'n' roll party. As BLS ripped into "New Religion," from their latest album, "Shot to Hell" (RoadRunner), crowd-surfing began in earnest. Making his guitar squeal as he sang, Wylde looked amused as wave after wave of bodies floated to the front of the stage, only to be pulled down by security. Mosh pits broke out as the group moved through its brash hard-rock tunes ("Concrete Jungle," "Fire It Up," "Suicide Messiah"). Although BLS is a band featuring drummer Craig Nunenmacher, bassist JD DeServio and guitarist Nick Cantanese, it was Wylde that people came to see.
With his long hair and a beard pulled into braids, Wylde is a sight -- a blue-collar Viking in biker-chic gear. Downing beers between songs (and often between verses), he drew cheers throughout the night. Toasting the crowd, the New Jersey native nodded, "Yeah, it's great to be home! We got some drinkin' to do!"
He took a break from the hard rocking and performed at an electric piano. Although he sounds like a young Osbourne when he sings the harder stuff, Wylde bears an uncanny resemblance to Greg Allman and, at times, Michael McDonald, when he croons such ballads as "The Last Goodbye" and "In This River."
The sidemen exited the stage, and Wylde took the spotlight for the obligatory guitar solo. There's no question that Wylde's a shredder, but his signature sound comes from his tone and use of harmonics, and his loopy noodling played on his influences (Jimi Hendrix and Eddie Van Halen) more than his innovation. Yet he can play the guitar behind his back and with his teeth, and he never issued a bad note as the crowd ate it up.
Finishing the night with "Bleed for Me," Wylde toasted the crowd again and did not return for an encore. As the house lights came up and the crowd filed out, it was plain to see from the sheer volume of empty beer cans on the floor that the party had to end sooner rather than later.
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