It's called dedication, son.

Nothing was going to stop me from attending William Elliott Whitmore's show Friday night. NOTHING. Not the horrible traffic on the freeway as I drove home from work and picked up Cindi in Oak Park, not the cold rain and sleet pelting my face after walking nearly a mile from the el stop, not the crappy CTA schedule that made me walk part of the way, not wet clothes, shoes and socks that just got dry as I left the venue, not the $6 suggested donation at the door, not intense hunger and thirst, not Cindi's frantic phone call about our psycho upstairs neighbor going ballistic about us parking in "his space" behind the building...like I said, NOTHING.

As I walked up to the venue, I had the feeling I was in the wrong place. Checked the address, 1352 South Union. Yep, this has to be it. It's the only building on the block. I was at a decrepit old building that once had passed for a Baptist church. I walked around the back, wondering whether there was a secret entrance. I watched two young hipster doofi (that's plural for hipster doofus - you know, the twentysomethings with their funky hair, funky clothing, thick glasses and multiple piercings) head in the front door of the church and pay their donation. Another girl came in with a pocketful of change, not quite the suggested $6, but I think she got in anyways. I'm not sure who or what the donation was to benefit, but the church certainly could have used a cut of the cash to keep it standing.

I walked into the main "church"/rock stage area. No pews. The seats were theater style, maybe 120 or so. Up near where the altar would have stood, was where the band had set up their instruments and PA. The first thing that caught my eye was a huge neon crucifix with the words "Jesus is the light of the world" emblazoned above it. Jesus was outlined in a powder blue neon with the sites of the five wounds in a red neon. Not something you see every day. I wish I had brought my camera with me.

WEW walked in with his trademark black hat and a pint of Jack Daniel's Black tucked in his arm. Another dude was dressed in a gold button up shirt that said, "Yeah it's a gold shirt, but I'm in a band, so it's all good." This guy was actually in the opening band called Judy Green, and played several instruments well (acoustic, clarinet, sax and trumpet).

I first saw WEW perform as an opening act for Clutch about 2 months ago. He walked onstage by himself with a banjo and an acoustic guitar and had the crowd mesmerized with his totally original voice, songs and blend of country, gospel, folk, bluegrass and blues. His bio for Southern Records refers to him as "the hillbilly Ray Charles." Looking at him, he is the last person in the world that you would think could play a banjo and make it sound cool. Normally, a tattooed man and banjos just don't go together. His songs were wonderful with dark lyrics and song titles such as "Cold and Dead," "Pine Box," "Burn my Body," and "Digging my Grave." I later found out that he's from SE Iowa, not too far from where Cindi's parents live.

The show this weekend was fantastic. Several pints of Jack and cans of PBR were consumed by WEW over the course of the hour-long show. The guys sitting behind me even brought in a 18 pack of Old Style beer. Here I was sitting in what was once a church, and I couldn't even bring myself to wear my baseball cap inside, and these guys were cracking open beers.

After the show was finished, I congratulated WEW on the fine show, bought both of his CDs and headed for home.