Rudy Rudy, to the rescue

Hideout oldsters thrilled to the announcement of the return this weekend of Mr. Rudy Day to the stage. Or, hell, I did at least.
For years the Hideout’s unofficial house band, Rudy Day brought their distinctly freaky blend of grinding funk, hot soul, and hard rock to the back room for a multiyear run of Halloween parties and psychedelic watermelon festivals. Now Andy “Hot Pants” Hopkins, Esq., Geoff  Greenberg, and Mike Bulington are back – on a reunion tour of just one stop – this Saturday.  As the winner of the 2001 Mr. Rudy Day booty-shaking dance contest,  I may be biased, but you are a fool to miss this show.

Here’s a clip from a Splendid review of their first rekkid, Juzzle:
Rudy Day is Hopkins’s Id made flesh — a swaggering, larger-than-life character who doesn’t merely steal the spotlight but actually takes it home with him after the show and stashes it in his basement with the rest of his stolen spotlights. Rudy’s the hip-swinging, lip-curling, testosterone-spurting frontman for this brazen trio; Geoff Greenberg chimes in with greasy-dirty four-string action, and the frighteningly tall Mike Bulington nails riffs to the wall with world-class skin-pummeling. They’re one bad-ass trio.
Or as Monica Kendrick wrote, on the release of Mr. Day’s second outing, Duty, prepare to spend “a long layover in the designated smoking area at Funkytown International Airport.”
Lissen up, and learn.