Will Overman hosts Sunday Evening Services at the Southern.

Welp, for whatever reason, it seems in order to do this post for the final night of Will Overman’s Stranger Tour at the Southern last Sunday night in a more "experiential" way.

Less about who played what and for how long. More about capturing the feels.

And what the hell, let's use a big fat metaphor to get 'er done. If the use of this particular metaphor strikes some as blasphemy, well, just add that to the list of sins I'll answer for when my time of reckoning comes (which is probably not that far off.)

Now, Old Hank is not a religious man. But like many, back in the day, he was force-raised in the church—one that was just 2 shakes shy of Pentacostal with its tongue speaking and limbs akimbo dancin'.

So here it is: The Overman / Holy Roller show at the Southern felt LIKE  (the official word of similes not metaphors but what the hell they are basically the same thing.) a Sunday evening revival service in a rockin’ country church with a jammed parking lot somewhere in the Bible Belt.

Now, Sunday Morning services were for dressin' up and sitting thru Sunday School with a youth minister who was probably a little handsy, then heading into the sanctuary for some formal sermonizing until your feet felt like they would swell up and split the cheap leather of your dress shoes. Wednesday services were just flat out weird and didn't seem to have a purpose whatsoever, other than passing the collection plate.

But Sunday evening services…now they were something different altogether. Looser. Louder. More physical. Unpredictable. And if it was a Revival Service, well there was gonna be singin', dancin', dramatizin' with high emotin' and some pretty serious carryin' on that might well end in a trip to the alter.

So, if you follow the metaphor of the Sunday Evening Revival Service for this show, let's cast the characters.

There is a minister. He runs the show. It's his gig and his flock. He's talented, smooth, well dressed, eloquent and most likely good looking (it helps). He has a supporting cast of deacons, or a "band" if you will.

That would be Will Overman and his boys Evan Hunsberger on drums, Ryan Lee on bass, and Curry Winborn on keyboards

But since it's a Revival Service, which is to say special and extra meaningful, he might often invite a Guest Evangelist to get the congregation lubed up for him. Someone who is especially charismatic and tours the land whipping the faithful into a frenzy, reminding them why they love this religion thing in the first place.

Often these Revival Evangelists are gifted at music and probably maybe can heal folks of their physical and mental ills and overall complacency.

If these Evangelists take a little nip of whiskey in the parking lot, carry a revolver and a knife inside their boot or give the young ladies warm ideas that maybe the elders would frown upon, well we forgive that because of the flat-out power of their message and its exquisitely reckless and brutally gorgeous delivery. Often these Revivalists have a secret weapon—a dark haired member of the crew whose singin', dancin' and bangin' on a tambourine can send the fellas into a frenzy.

That would be Brady Heck, Rebekah Rafferty and their outfit Holy Roller. (See, the name fits, Sisters and Brothers. And in his song “Honey” Mr. Heck do bring a pistol and a cuttin’ blade for fun) Those two firebrands are joined by Peter Cason, Bryce Doyle, Clay Massok and Ryan Davis.

And speaking of Sisters, there’s always that incredibly talented member of the congregation, the sweetheart of the choir, who can be called upon to deliver a knee slapping, pew stomping addition to any special hymn the Minister deems oughta have extra ooomph that night. She's pretty, with a smile that can light up the vestibule, otherworldly talented and seems to float above the stage like an angel.

That would be Ramona Martinez, front person of one the bestest, hardest working Tonk outfits around, the Holy Smokes (again, this metaphor is the gift that just keeps on giving.)

So there you go. Holy Roller got us lathered up, moving and rowdy, simultaneously putting us in the mood to confess our sins and create new ones in the back seat of the Packard. Maybe even roll a goof butt and smoke it after we were done.

Will and his deacons began by bringing the lathered-up congregation to its knees with the power of his message of love, loss and redemption. And the sincerity of his delivery.

Then he brought out Sister Ramona to remind us all just how lucky we are to live in a town where, even on a Sunday night, talented folks like these care enough about us to give us all they got.

In the finale, Overman delivered his peroration (“kill shot” in rhetorical terms).

He called us all down to the alter, sang us his version of "The Old Rugged Cross" where we all held hands, testifyin' and sanctifyin', even the crustiest of us havin' to wipe a tear or two.

After it was all over, he sent us home soaked, exhausted, and wondering what the hell just happened but ready to be as good as possible all week long or at least until Monday after work.

OK. Thanks for playing along with this ridiculously extended metaphor. The ramblings on this blog are often only semi-serious. But forgive an old man a moment of sober earnestness. In the secular, social media, digitized world we live in, one precious thing we have lost is the communal gatherings that nuture our souls. This was one of those. Thanks Will, Evan and all of you including the crowd for a beautiful Sunday evening. We treasure all of you.

Amen.