Walking the Floor

by Trey Pollard

WASHINGTON, D.C.—Sure, this fight officially ended in the 8th round, when referee Tony Weeks waved Kendall Holt’s hopes off after a possessed Lamont Peterson rattled his opponent’s head for the sixth or seventh time of the evening.

But the fight effectively over as soon as Peterson landed his first solid punch of the night: a hard left hand up high, landing mid-way through the fourth round - the first glimmer of hope of the night for Peterson. Before it hit, Peterson’s hometown crowd at the D.C. Armory barked nervously, shuffling in their seats, too anxious to even cat-call the absurdly dressed ring card girls.

Once Peterson landed that punch, the tide shifted. It was enough to break through the nervous energy, enough to shake off 14 months of ring rust, enough to stop Kendall Holt from looking like a contender, and evidently enough to give Peterson his confidence back after the failed drug test that sent his career spiraling.

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Papa Legba

Widespread Panic singing about voodoo at the Athens Music Festival, 1989

Always had a soft spot for WSP, after seeing them about 10 times while living in the South. They were the kind of band I couldn’t avoid, loved a few of their songs by consequence, and didn’t at all mind seeing as long as the price was right.

They get a lot of shit from some “involved” in the music scene in their hometown of Athens for having a heavy contingent of wealthy, fraternity and sorority types who follow them closely - something that’s earned them notoriety and acclaim, perhaps.

But, its southern college rock. We have those folks down in the South, and they tend to go to college. And that’s okay - quite frankly, folks are inclined enough to listen to ten minute guitar solos tend be more open-minded than the generations of southerners who came before them. They ain’t the kind of people who are going to be protesting in the streets, and they probably ain’t voting for Obama, but progress is progress.

The same generation and culture that created REM created these guys, and these very early recordings of WSP really make their similarities clear. They are the first children of the hippies, running towards the cross-roads of the coked out earnest fantasies of 80s rock and the navel-gazing, self-absorbed 90’s. They’ve eeking out a place where a twisted tale of voodoo meets tight, jarring guitar chords and grateful dead bongos. Perfect for blasting on the porch at the house you rented by lake allatoona for you and all your buddies. We’ve even got a keg. Beer pong. its going to be a great time, man.