Wheels Bottles And Abandoned Truck Stops
An interview with Hammerlock
By Smuttrucker
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I have been treating this interview, like an abandoned beer can in my console cubby, ever so hesitant to even take a whiff of it. It’s been sitting so long, even the fruit flies are over it. It’s undeniably one of the hardest interviews that I came across to edit. Hammerlock will rock and black your eyes out all night with their nitty-gritty Oakland-based gravel rock, but if there is one thing these highwaymen and woman can’t do right, is type. It originally came with barely any punctuation, so I had no clue where to end, let alone start. She’s by far the hottest little number in the commune of outlaw trucker trash rock, therefore she could have wrote Tayna Tucker lyrics backwards, I would not have given a fuck! I had no second guessing where the answers came from; her heart, even if her calluses were the cause of it She’s the kind of girl that you do take home to ma and pa on account they’re anything like my revolutionary hillbilly outlaws. Much like my Bluegrass mutts, she came from a musically inclined family herself. She is married to the lead guitarist and singer, who is an advocate member of the NRA, and together they are Liza and Travis Kenney. Along with Mikey on drums, they’ve been crashing truck stops and barrooms for over ten years now, and are the only West Coast band to have been inducted into the Confederacy of Scum. Much like most bands I came across ten years ago, I found them on Mans Ruin before it folded under. Even back then, they harvested an exceptional southern appetite to rock with their first country fried, buffet-style full length, “American Asshole.” Amongst their heavy drinking and touring with concealed weapons in the US, and surviving a 100+mph motorcycle wrecks, we hold their most current album to date, “Compromise Is For Cowards.” It’s the sort of ruthless rebel rock you throw in every time you pass a blue prison bus in order for the prisoners to hear it. No man or woman should be deprived of it. It’s got enough cause behind it to trigger any inmate to revolt, and besides Hammerlock, society needs more escaped convicts.
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SS: What can you tell me about the Murder Junkies show that stuck in your head the most, besides some beer bottle lodged in Jeff Clayton’s forehead?

Liza: We played with them in San Francisco, but you must be talking about Hank III and The Murder Junkies in Las Vegas. Mikey, our drummer, called and ask to come over. Now, Mikey was at the bar that night before that had a barbeque, so he had a lot of leftover hot dog links that he brought home and stuck in his refrigerator. I really didn’t want to eat one, because I didn’t know what bird pecked on it, but I had a buzz and I think I fuckin' ate one. Anyways, Mikey, says, “We’re going to Las Vegas!”

We all had wanted to see Jeff Clayton, because it was only twelve hours away, and his last night of the tour. Plus, him, Matt, Annie, and Big Aaron would pay for the gas if we would go. At 3 AM we put in CCR, and hit the road. Travis was scaring the shit out of me passing trucks. We’re almost to Las Vegas, and we pull over at The Eat N’ Go. I’m thinking we shouldn’t go in there because it looks like a shanty old town with windows broken out and “I  Kill You” is spray painted on the door. Big Aaron’s saying it’s not a good idea, too but Travis is telling us not to worry, and that a clown lived here. Travis pulls out his .44 and loads it and hands me my cute little handgun, but I tell Travis not to shoot his, because it would be way too loud. “BOOM!” Travis is shooting away like, a happy motherfucker, and out of nowhere this little, weird guy crawls out of a window, and yells, “No shooting, no shooting!”

I walk up to him and say, “You mean this isn’t a shooting range?”

He tells me he has gun too, and I tell him mine’s name is Rosie. He gets frustrated, and says the cops will come pointing the guns at him instead. Travis is in the van yelling, so I wink and tell him goodbye. Later down the road, I realize we met a gypsy; a real life one. We get to Las Vegas without getting arrested, so far, so good. We go to the club to surprise Jeff, but they’ve already got our names at the door. I met Hank III who was really nice and The Murder Junkies sounded real good, too. When we left later, we pulled out onto a one way and here comes two motorcycle cops to pull us over. They ask if Travis has been drinking and he tells them only one. Before they took him out, I gave him some gum. Big Aaron’s telling me to be quiet, but I feel like putting the van in reverse to run over their bikes and have T jump in. I see cockroaches out on the ground, outside. I stick my head out the window and ask the cops if I could step on one, and then they let us go.

Liza: One time we missed our plane, all because I went shopping for trinkets. Travis was pissed and told me I’m trinkaholic. We asked the counter help at the airport for a job that summer when we toured the East Coast. I was hoping we’d get to stay but we were home the next morning.

- SS     

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