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Of local note, Davidson has several ties to the Valley. His mother -- yes, even the high priest of body-count rock has parents -- is a Scottsdale resident. Davidson himself called Phoenix home for several years in the late '80s.
Looking like extras from a Russ Meyer biker flick, the group stages live shows that feature a meaty mix of reverb-drenched music and detailed imagery, down to the band members' pompadours, sunglasses and toothpicks crammed in the sides of their mouths.
The band's stone-faced demeanor does little to calm their audiences. Deadbolt crowds are notoriously emphatic, sometimes too much for their own good -- as the overzealous mohawked punk who got a mouthful of Davidson boot at last December's Green Room show can attest.
Davidson has grown accustomed to the overenthusiasm. "It's kind of like people get bottled up for a while and wait for us to come to town and then they let it all loose," he notes with a chuckle, from his San Diego home.
Voodoo Trucker, Deadbolt's fifth album for their hometown Cargo Records label, continues the trend of theme pieces. Davidson says the group managed to pull off an authentic truckin' vibe by "drinking a bunch of Pabst's Blue Ribbon, smoking a lot of cigarettes and listening to C.W. McCall and Red Simpson records before we went into the studio."
"When you put out six albums, you could be like Sting and talk about the rain forest and about your inner peace. But I don't want to talk about that shit," says Davidson. "We like to take the listener on a journey."
That journey may next take Deadbolt fans into the darkest reaches of the Caribbean soul, as one possible premise for a Voodoofollow-up is what Davidson describes as a "creepy calypso album," inspired by Robert Mitchum's infamous 1957 platter, Calypso Is Like So.
"Yeah, I was in this bar in Austin and they had the record on the jukebox," says Davidson. "Nobody was around, so I just sat down, had a beer and played the thing all the way through and it was funny as shit. So we might do something like that or maybe a phony prison album -- like a fake Johnny Cash at San Quentin."
Whatever the long-term future holds for the self-proclaimed "scariest band in the world," Deadbolt will be making a return to our fair city next week, performing a Wednesday Nita's Hideaway set. Opening the show will be Grave Danger -- the scariest band in Maricopa County, especially if its members have been drinking. No doubt this bill has all the makings for some intense mid-week debauchery. Bash & Pop strongly urges all parents to lock up their children.