Hank III’s Mr. Hyde side

The clock passed midnight. A metamorphosis would soon occur.

The eclectic crowd, varying from the 80-year-old hillbillies

that came to see the ghost of Hank Williams, to the 18-year-old

punk-rock degenerates with mohawks that came for the pit, awaited

Hank III’s second and more intense set, which, he forewarned, would

drive out the crowd.

“This is somethin’ I been doin’ since I’s a teen,” Hank III said

as he took the stage. “And if you don’t like it…well then, what

the f**k?”

He picked up his jet-black SG guitar and began strumming like a

madman. A bombardment of fast, crunchy, distorted power chords

ensued and it became very apparent that Mr. Hyde had emerged.

The man who only twenty minutes earlier was playing up-beat

country rock while wearing a beaten up cowboy hat and duct taped

boots vanished. He disappeared without a trace.

A man dressed in dark clothes, who carried a wicked presence,

replaced him; repeatedly swirling his long hair and screaming into

the mic furiously.

With his new band, AssJack, comprised of a bass player, an

additional singer and a double-bass drummer who has to be addicted

to methamphetamines in order to play as fast as he does, Hank III

played music that could bring demons to their knees. He sang songs

about his contempt for those who deemed him white trash, loving

whisky, doing cocaine and more.

And just as he said, a substantial amount of the fans left.

When the concert ended, he politely thanked the people that

didn’t leave. He stuck around afterward, signing autographs and

talking to those that stayed and appreciated his harsher side,

arguably the release of his true art form.