The Riverboat Gamblers

w/the Cat Heaters, the Ruby Doe, the Wild Hairs

Sun May 25, Sunset, 8 pm, $7.

The Riverboat Gamblers are the living embodiment of the adage that bored young kids living in the middle of nowhere can turn pissy moods into some wily rock 'n' roll. The Gamblers are young bucks from Denton, Texas, a town with "few places to play, no good record stores, no radio, and very little going on," says singer Mike Wiebe. It was in this barren context that the Gamblers set up five years ago, cutting their teeth in the close-knit house party circuit. "We wanted to do something that was the antithesis of all the emo that was propagating like wildfire," says Wiebe.

Live, the band has a reputation for rowdy behavior, as Wiebe has been known to climb club fixtures, rush the audience, and explode in a furious blast of flailing, jumping, and yapping. "I guess we just try and not shoegaze," he says modestly.

The Gamblers recently found a new label home on the Gearhead Records roster, and their upcoming record, Something to Crow About, will be out next month. All the familiar Detroit riff racket abounds, but with a loose, careening abandon that's lost on most garage bandwagoneers. The band has tapped only the most blood-spurting affectations of its region's emo stasis, e.g., shouted Fugazi-ish gang vocals, and occasional choppy breaks that get quickly railroaded by the ever-present punch of the four-chord fist. While still fairly green, the Gamblers had the smarts to keep this beast under 35 minutes. They also had the foresight to give Tim Kerr a shot at producing again after working on their 2001 self-titled debut.

So will the Riverboat Gamblers be the ones to bring the real nasty noise to the supposed "garage revival"? Could be, as the Riverboat Gamblers are at base a fun rock 'n' roll band, albeit a fun the squares will deem "abrasive." And that ought to make the next 14-year-old Gamblers fan sitting with his guitar in a garage somewhere very, very ticked off in only the most inspired of ways.