Last night, lounging on the deck of the once-harrowing Frontier Room: Four young men in ragamuffin chic—newsboy caps, handsome (if slightly stained) ties, and scuffed leather shoes, just picking their teeth, rolling cigarettes, and looking for something to do.
They were Pokey Lafarge and his something-something boys from "Sant Louis, Missourah." Pokey looked like he'd hitchhiked out of a Flannery O'Connor story: a little shifty-eyed, a little too charming. But that's what you want in your old-timey rogue musician, right?
They'd played Conor Byrne's the night before and were idle Thursday and Friday, looking for a gig or a place to busk before heading up to Canada on Sunday. So if you're throwing a house party or running a bar and think these guys look like fun, email editor@thestranger.com and we'll put you in touch.
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