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  • City Pages

    Michele Bachmann, Unmuzzled

    You don't need to read Sarah Palin's book to hear the ravings of a mad woman.

    By Matt Snyders

  • Miami New Times

    Pimp Daddy

    The rise and fall of a chubby sex-cult leader.

    By Natalie O'Neill

  • Riverfront Times

    Babe 'n' Arms

    Tom was a hot-tempered cross-dresser with a garage full of guns--and then he became Rachel.

    By Nicholas Phillips

  • Dallas Observer

    The Fight for Texas

    Rick Perry and Kay Bailey Hutchison are locked in a battle over the soul of the GOP. They're also running for governor.

    By Sam Merten

Jimmie Bratcher

Friday, February 10, at Knuckleheads Saloon.

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By Mike Warren

Published on February 09, 2006

At first, the pronoun shifts are disorienting; it's not often that you hear a bluesman singing about his — or, rather, "His" — arms. But a completely redeemed blues singer makes sense. The Rev. Jimmie Bratcher (by day, associate pastor of a church in St. Joseph) sings about moments in the life of a formerly desperate man — the moments of being blinded, bruised and broken and then making that honest (and answered) plea for help. Bratcher proves that when Jesus steps in, there's still plenty to wail about. The best songs from his new Red are just plain, blessed blues tunes, from the gritty Texas sound of "Bad Religion" to the wrath of God-driven "I See Red." (The good Lord, when ticked off, is way scarier than any devil.) Bratcher may be a preacher man, but he doesn't lose a speck of that part of Sunday morning that's by rights still Saturday night.