Delaney Davidson. Photo / Lynn Knights
Jesus H Christ on a dancing donkey - is Auckland always this cool?
Forgive me for asking but I'm new in town; wife and I left London in June looking for inspiration and stuff. We have been through New York, New Orleans, Memphis, Chicago, San Jose, Santiago, Buenos Aires and
Sydney. And our best musical night is in a back street bar in Newmarket?
The Lucha Lounge is sweet as (see how quickly we learn your language); we have been here a week and already head there whenever we can. Friendly vibe, utterly unpretentious and some sort of anarcho-pixie behind the bar dancing to the music.
Heart Attack Alley are two gals in slinky dresses and laddered hosiery; one wrings wicked blues riffs out of her guitar and the other bashes a tambourine and has a voice that sounds like cigarettes and strong alcohol. They are accompanied by a demon in an antique suit, bent over a harmonica that is spinning a web of woe and defiance. They are utterly mesmerising.
Delaney Davidson. He's revered as some kind of God here, right? Seriously, that lone lorn dusty troubadour look, black suit black tie, with a voice that somehow welds growling necromancy with a heartbreaking croon. There's a back story here about deals at crossroads with a gentleman with fire where his eyes should be. I'm sure of it.
