Kansas City Blog

If you take the toll road into Lawrence, you can’t miss the Gaslight. It’s there by Johnny’s. But if you’re a cheapskate like me and take K-10, you might not realize that, yes, 317 North Second Street really is located downtown. My friend and I spent half an hour trying to find the Gaslight in some other rundown part of the city before sheepishly calling a Lawrence-savvy friend for help.

When we finally arrived at our destination, we followed a bunch of 40something ladies inside. One of them held against her chest a small animal with a long, skinny gray tail. The creature was a baby Italian greyhound named Jasmine. As the band finished setting up on the bar’s partially covered patio, the puppy crawled over shoulders, kissed faces and even tried to lap up some guy’s whiskey.

Jasmine didn’t like the band, though. Or maybe it was all the thunder and lightning. From about the time Drakkar Sauna took the stage, the threat from above grew more ominous. Lightning streaked across the sky or lit up whole patches of it like a bomb exploding. Drakkar man Wallace Cochran would occasionally turn a wary eye upwards.

The regular Drakkar duo was accompanied by an old friend – Chris something-or-other – on upright bass. Together, they played dusty, acoustic songs about lovers and a dead dog named Loretta. If not for the occasional references to telephones or other modern technology, the songs could all pass as Civil War vintage, full of front-porch-gospel harmonies. Cochran’s twisted mustache and Jeff Stolz’s ragged beard only added to the effect.

The most memorable tune of the night was a drinking song in which Cochran warned that everyone you love is going to get diabetes. The audience chimed in for call-and-answer refrains of “Really? Really!” and “Seriously? Seriously!” The fun didn’t last long, though. Before the thunder started to really compete with the music, Drakkar Sauna packed it in. And then the rain started to fall.

Further Reading: "Tambourine Men" by Gina Kaufmann