Kick Out the Jams: Bounders and Moanin' Blacksnakes at Moondoggies, Mar. 5

Surfboards adorn the stucco walls inside Moon Doggies, along with surf-related yellow-and-black novelty traffic signage. That's probably enough to constitute a genuine surf theme, even if the décor is held gasping underwater (as it is in all sports bars) by the meaty, greedy, philistine hand of Big Beer--"Hey, cool Miller Genuine Draft surfboard! It's like the Miller Genuine Draft cricket bat at P.J. McBloke's!"

Still, Moon Doggies makes the corner of Rainbow and Oakey a decent destination for live music--spacious, big bar, and the night's paid entertainers get a stage with some real grassroots integrity: classy red velvet on three sides and a banner indicating that Moon Doggies is a supporting venue of the Las Vegas Jam Band Society.

The LVJBS exists to create a more supportive music community in Southern Nevada for musicians of the "Jam Band genre," which, for now, pretty much means meandering Jerry-rigged guitar blues. But jammin' is jammin'--a form of shamanism--so, in theory, the jam band genre should be cosmically wide open. Maraca and kazoo arrangements should qualify as long as the players remember to sleepwalk for 200 measures in the middle.

We caught some tunes from the opening Bounders, a local quartet of the more typical rock/country/blues/funk persuasion. You cannot argue with this kind of music. I've tried. I've said, "Jam band music, you need to decide what you believe in," but all I get in reply is more bubbling and noodling. There's no winning except through surrender to the omni-groove, so that's what I did alongside Phish shirts, furry-legged lasses and a tweaky, sweat-soaked guy with ducktailed gray hair and darting Dennis Hopper eyes.

Later came the Moanin' Blacksnakes, also local, similar to the Bounders but with more of a minor-blues Santana slink creeping up from time to time. Much of their presence came from Scott Rhiner's guitar work at stage-center, but it was the woolly "Reverend" Art Groom and the churchy swirl of his Hammond B3 organ that gave it soul. "Put down that Dr. Phil book and listen to this," he said before belting out a lazy, dirty little number of the "rock me real slow baby" type. The Moanin' Blacksnakes seem to thus embrace a traditionalist, "in with the old, out with the new" skepticism that's common within the general jam band scene. The sentiment came up again in a late-show tribute from Rhiner: "Here's to live music--it ain't always pretty, but it's always real." No argument here.--Dave Surratt