I went to church on Sunday. I stood up, and like a slap in the face from Jesus himself, got healed. Praise the Lord. Hell and damnation didn’t get a pass to this sold out Sunday night rocking revivalist show at the legendary Troubadour. Red Cortez, formerly The Weather Underground, put it all out there, sweating and oozing a post punk gospel like hot candle wax at the confessional. The ten song set built up to a frenetic crescendo like a church on fire. Harley Prechtel-Cortez gave a sermon of lost love and redemption and sang, sang, sang like he’d met the devil at those country crossroads, standing up to the hundreds of faces in the crowd with a total transparency of spirit that said “Follow me to the place where we pray.” Band mates, Calvin J. Love, Diego Guerrero, and Ryan Kirkpatrick, like alter boys heady with the weightiness of the rapture, brought a balanced subtlety to Prechtel-Cortez’ giant presence. Kirkpatrick’s swarthy bass lines generated a low rolling canvas for Guerrero’s utterly unique percussion (minimalist but with huge sound – when was the last time you saw a drummer use a tambourine as a drum stick? This man works the skins.) and Love’s gritty garage style (all near seven feet of him scream “I live in this Canadian tuxedo and I was born to rock!”). Highlights of the show were “Neal Cassady,” a brazen beatnik anthem, “Like a Son,” a tribute to a beloved, “Fight Song for the Desalojos,” a Spanish battle cry, and “End of an Error,” a total face melting finale that rattled free any last demons. An intelligent combination of blues, punk, 60s garage and folk, and a hint of shoe-gazer, Red Cortez brings a heritage of nuance that made me a believer. Get on the bandwagon. Check out Red Cortez at http://www.myspace.com/redcortezband. -Angel Baker