Recap Split Lip Rayfield at High Noon Saloon

One song into Split Lip Rayfield’s sweaty, two-hour set at the High Noon Thursday night, banjo player Eric Mardis responded to a shout from the crowd by nodding and drawling, “Yes, that is a gas can.” He was referring to Jeff Eaton’s famous bass. The dented and rusted one-stringed instrument once occupied the underbelly of a car built in an era when the words “gas” and “guzzler” had yet to meet. Eaton’s bumper-stickered bass is indeed a sight, but the sound it makes when he attacks it—a booming cannon-like report that burrows into every chest in its path—is what anchors SLR’s impossibly fast bluegrass-thrash hybrid.

Wichita, Kansas-based SLR is touring behind I’ll Be Around, the first album they’ve released since guitarist Kirk Rundstrom died of cancer last year. (That’s after Rundstrom soldiered through a final tour, which included an awesome show at the High Noon in November 2006). They sampled heavily from the new disc, singing of crooked pathways, dubious morals, and the devil himself. Mardis and Eaton are teamed with mandolin whiz Wayne Gottstine, and the trio spent the night playing the types of songs that are perfect for toe-tapping--if a person is lucky enough to have a jackhammer for a foot.

SLR ripped through the new tunes “Rig Or Cross,” “Sin River,” “Aces High,” and “Heart Of Darkness” before giving the crowd a chance to rest their pumping fists with the slower “Never Make It Home.” During this song, Eaton took momentary breaks from a show-long wrestling match with his bass to blast notes from a kazoo he’d hastily taped to his mic stand. Mardis ribbed Eaton about being a Juilliard-trained musician playing a kazoo, showing off a camaraderie that was easy to see well before Mardis introduced the haunting “I’ll Be Around.” “This show is dedicated to Kirk Rundstrom, as always,” he said. “We miss him a lot.” The band then played the ballad staring blank-eyed into the distance.

Otherwise, Mardis delivered even the darkest material with a smirk and hint of impishness. Tongue-in-cheek rousers like “Kiss Of Death” and “Redneck Tailgate Dream” kept the audience bouncing and mesmerized by the spectacle on stage. Once, Gottstine stepped center stage for one of his speed-freak mandolin solos, looked at his own blurred fingers, and raised his eyebrows as if even he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

Madison band Ghost Town Council opened the night, moving between country-tinged rockers and straightforward honky-tonk numbers. With the exception of a few misfired harmonies, the band was pretty effective. They even stirred up a few brave dancers, but for the most part their set was better suited to a pickup truck, a lonely cornfield, and a cold six-pack.