When rock 'n' roll types endure into their sixties they're often judged by what's missing. For years people thought Roky Erickson was missing his marbles. But at the Continental Club last night Erickson grabbed his guitar and dropped the hammer, speeding through a 70-minute set of horror blues. The only thing missing was his operatic upper register, which isn't uncommon (Mick, Elton, etc.) He didn't need it for the music he made. Erickson was more rooted in the blues than his jug-band hippie brethren of the psychedelic '60s. So he stands today an unlikely survivor singing in a beastly growl. His powerful right-hand punches out primal chords as he stomps through a sometimes frightening fusion of blues constructs and horror film lyrics. With such a scorched earth approach, who needs to hit the high notes?

He took the stage like Bela Lugosi rising from a casket: Arms crossed, eyes darting. This wasn't the clean-shaven Erickson who played Austin City Limits last year.

Roky 2007, credit: Jim Dyson/Getty

My camera batteries died. So you'll have to settle for this recent pic of Wolfman Roky.

Roky 2009, credit: Mike Carano

He smiled a little and then the carnage started with Red Temple Prayer (Two Headed Dog) and Creature With the Atom Brain. The pace was relentless until Erickson slowed down briefly for Starry Eyes, the closest thing he has to a song one might call "pretty." Mid-set he and his excellent band dug deep blues trenches on tunes like The Beast.

The set closed with his 13th Floor Elevators calling card You're Gonna Miss Me. No jug, just big riffs and Erickson's gruff howl. That seemed certain to be the end of the night. More than one nearby concert-goer remarked that an encore was unlikely, but Erickson returned for a new song (I'm still waiting for the title . . . UPDATE: Title is And Now We Fly) and I Walked With a Zombie.

Erickson's songs are eerie little treasures. The blues is a novel framework upon which to hang songs about vampires, zombies, monsters and such. That said the blues are about having the blues (except when they're about having sex) and Erickson's particular brand of blues is seems to reference his tormented past along with the horror films he so clearly adores. It's all about demons, his just tend to have fangs. Whether he wrote these songs as straight homage to cinema or to make sense of what was going on in his head, only he knows for sure. They're delivered with primal conviction.

"You're gonna miss me" is the phrase most associated with the guy. And Erickson did feel missed. An adoring audience was just the right amount of rowdy (except for Sauron the Shithead, a bearded acid casualty who threatened Houston's beloved oldies preservationist) and just the right amount of reverent. Unlike other '60s institutions who have made a business of their art, Erickson checked out for so long that there existed a genuine hunger for his music beyond the rubbernecking intrigue of his backstory. There's a sense of purity to it. And while the backing music was impeccable I got the sense that Erickson could've put on a compelling show alone had he needed to.

Along with the high notes the only thing missing from Erickson was the sense of missing him.

UPDATE:
Below is the lineup for Roky's show last night. According to management it was their first show together. Didn't sound that way.

Kyle Ellison - guitar (Meat Puppets/Butthole Surfers)
Matt Harris - bass (The Posies/Ian Moore)
Kyle Schneider - drums (Charlie Sexton/Ian Moore)

It's also worth noting that opener local opener Grandfather Child played a gloriously off-the-wall set of what sounded like Tuvan throat singing crossed with Mississippi Hill Country blues: Kind of like North Mississippi All Stars if you swap NMAS's jam band polish out for a hearty dose of Elmo Williams. The grooves were waist-deep and the lap steel playing was like a rollercoaster jumping the rails. High energy and enormously fetching. There appears to be just one song on grandfatherchild.com.