Tornado Rider 

With cello strapped on and slung low across his shirtless torso à la Dee Dee Ramone, Sneth Goblin (aka Rushad Eggleston) of Tornado Rider rips through daft, distorted hot licks powered by a Marshall stack. This isn't some prog-rock peckerwood's yawn-inducing synthesis of classical and rock. The TR sound is a drunken sea shanty, an impish late-night jam session in the wilderness, a dosed-up band of renfaire jesters high on Four Loko and shrooms.

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Nothing complicated, the rhythm section locks it in and keeps the party bouncing, allowing Eggleston to do his best W. Axl Rose meets Chuck Berry as he slides across the stage on sweaty knees in a spastic blur. A Venn diagram of TR's lyrical content would contain the words of Dr. Suess, Anthony Keidis, and a stoned five-year-old. Magic Falcons, golden apples, and dinosaurs abound. For example, "I'm a falcon, I'm a falcon / vicious bird, powerful bird!" The same diagram could be used for the band's appearance: neon, capes, coonskin caps.

Band geeks with rock 'n' roll aspirations haven't had many musical Dutch uncles since the third wave ska nightmare of the 1990s. TR might turn would-be "new-grasser" cellists and fiddlers into 21st century Hendrixes.

Tornado Rider plays the Badlander Tuesday, July 19, at 9 PM with Tidal Horn and Dead Me Downs. $5.

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