Kick Out the Jams: The Gold Toppers at Dino's, June 6

The Gold Toppers at Dino's Lounge, June 6

Say what you will about the rest of the week, Sunday is the perfect day to be sad. It's not like Monday, which is too busy to be really depressing, nor is it like Friday, which is too much of a relief to be anything but at least a mild comfort. Sunday, however, was tailor made for brooding over hardship and lost love--the two primary subjects of the Gold Toppers' Sunday night blues jam at Dino's Lounge.

Combining Albert Collins' Texas boogie-woogie with Bo Diddley's Chicago raunch 'n' roll, the Gold Toppers turn out a back-alley brand of electric blues that's as comfortable with the 12-bar shuffle of "Kansas City" as it is with the bluesabilly stomp of "Hound Dog." Covering everything from the where-my-baby-gone blues to the don't-nobody-love-me-but-my-dog blues, the ragtag three-piece chugs through standards and originals with equal aplomb, and pulls off instrumental jams that would be mind-boggling if they weren't so soulful.

And it's clear the Gold Toppers have known the deep blues because the frontman, who plies his trade on a battered Les Paul Gold Top, is missing his front teeth. Life isn't easy on a man without incisors, and you can hear it in his sporadic lament: "I don't hear any shot glasses banging around, and, shit, our tip cup is still empty. How'd that happen? Oh man, oh man."

But the band's tip jar slowly filled up as the crowd--a dozen regulars and a handful of strays--jumped on board the Gold Toppers' emotional roller coaster and held on for dear life. One intrepid bystander even yanked out a harmonica and wheezed in time with "Sweet Home Chicago." Throughout the night, the Gold Toppers were receptive to the participation, encouraging people to step up to a mic and wail away if they knew the words. Mostly, though, people were content to kick back and kill the pain with a shot of booze and a blast of the blues.--Newt Briggs