Slug's Revenge

Slug's Revenge

 Florence, South Carolina, USA
BandComedyBluegrass

You’ll never hear fans of Slug’s Revenge complaining about a dead stage presence or boring music. In fact, instead of being described as “playing“ their instruments, more accurately has been described as “shredding”. With fast and precise pickers leading the way like Kevin Wykoff, Allen Johnson and a madwoman on fiddle like Crystal Kanney fans are kept energized and captivated. Holding down the backbone is Desiree Shaffer on upright bass and multi-instrumentalist Pat Regan on washboard, tenor gu

Biography


A little about us...

Kevin Wykoff started the music project Slug's Revenge over eight years ago in central Maryland. About three years into touring, hoping trains and hitchhiking around the country, Kevin started playing music with Crystal Kanney, a seriously wild combination. Crystal and Kevin toured for a few years, then Kevin met up with Desiree Shaffer and the three have been making music together ever since.

Once in South Carolina, Slug’s Revenge began playing with mandolin player Allen Johnson. Allen is a local musician celebrity supporting the punk and metal scenes in his area for decades. He is also one hell of a mandolin picker. Soon after, old friend Pat Reagan from Pittsburgh, PA also joined the band. Slug's Revenge play primarily original, traditional bluegrass, country, folk and old time music they all grew up on.

Lyrics

Trainhop Story Rag

Written By: Kevin Wykoff

Well, I was sitting in a hobo jungle when I overheard some old heads telling their tales
About the glory days and the things they’d done while riding on the fearsome rails
And the stories they told were the kind of tales that ain’t never gonna leave my head
One after another with their spirits high, you wouldn’t believe what they said
----Well, I did back flips in the middle of a hurricane, while riding on an oil tank
Rode a junker train into any Army complex and rode out with a corporal rank. And while riding through the Santa Fe tunnel on an open box car, wrestled me a bear. Juggled chainsaws on that FEC, while breathing the Florida air----------
So I drank me another and I leaned in closer as the stories started heating up.
But I dared not sit with these big dogs still, for I was but a railroad pup
And the stories got swift and crazy as the men got fire in their eyes
And the stories that they told from this point on would lay any to their demise
------Well I fought off 15 bulls in the Baldwin yard with my hands tied behind my back. Caught a train on the fly going 45, with 38 40s in my pack. Made up a pot of noodles in the unit, unseen, while the engineer was there. And by the way, I held back on that story before, I was wrestling 15 bears-----
So if you hop trains kid, and you think you’ve got a story, well you best just hold your breath
Because when it comes to railroad memoires, I’ve heard the best of the best of the best
These old heads have a tail for every line and every single yard.
So if you want to impress me nowadays, it’s gonna be mighty hard.
------Unless you hopped through Alaska in the dead of winter ins shorts, with not sleeping bag. Or you laid your eyes on every single one of Bozo Texino’s tags. Or you snuck into an auto carrier and rode away in a Lincoln Town Car. If your stories don’t match the old heads’ kids, you best save it for the bar-----