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Eric Nally, frontman of Foxy Shazam, is a paranoid, delusional, manic-depressive squirrel. With pants soaked in water, sweat, and piss Foxy Shazam did their best to give a crowd of eager-beaver high school kids at the Jackpot in Lawrence a show to remember. At least, I think they gave it their best shot. It was hard to differentiate through the awkward stumbling (of both feet and words) of Nally and the actual music being played by the band.
Nally seems like the kind of guy that would kick your dog just to get a reaction from you. He also seems like the kind of guy that would be so blown out of his mind on really bad drugs that he wouldn't be able to sing one note of Foxy Shazam's songs. (The last thing Nally said before he was carried off stage by Bad Rabbits' leader Fredua Boakye was, "Sometimes, I wish I wouldn't get so crazy that I destroy the ceiling tiles that I'll have to pay for after the show.")
Dropping the mic, singing to an empty mic stand (see "dropping the mic"), tripping over cords, smoking and then eating cigarettes, spitting, urinating his pants, crawling outside on the sidewalk during the set, and finally smashing the majority of ceiling tiles above the stage are apparently all part of a Foxy Shazam experience. I suppose that brings me to the logical explanation of why I was the oldest person there by at least 10 years.
Overhearing the young gentlemen beside me brag to the girls next to them that they had "traveled all the way from Kansas City, Missouri (!), after skipping last period to hang out in Lawrence. Yeah, and if my mom finds out..." I ordered three shots of Jack and let the good times roll.
Too bad Foxy Shazam couldn't just play the music. The music was about the only bearable thing about the show. It's hard to understand how a hot mess like Nally could remember any lyrics -- or perform at all, given the bullshit happening in between each song. The tunes sounded coherent and better than tolerable. Nally's vocals are part Freddy Mercury, part Angus Young, and I don't use those comparisons loosely.
Admittedly, Foxy Shazam makes up in musical likability whatever the band lacks in genuine character. Nally's dragging monologues about fake shit that hasn't happened roadblocked each song, thereby destroying any sort of flow. (A story about a recent conversation with Robert Pattinson isn't even funny enough to repeat here. Neither is the story about Nally's wife Karen, and their children.) Get a Foxy Shazam record, skip the live show -- unless, of course, you're into fake performance art or like to be spit on, or you are under the age of 14.