Rockabilly legend Robert Gordon played a few songs at the Jesse Malin's annual Christmas Show in the Bowery Ballroom in the Lower East Side, New York, December 11.

On stage, with a pick-up band, Gordon seemed unsteady at first, but this just proved to be him locking his 75 year-old self into the groove. A distinct if unpredictable swagger emerged as he loosened, throwing his whole body into the singing. He still embodied that slightly dark and menancing rebel vibe from his early days.

After the show, I caught him outside, hailing down a cab. I went up and shook his hand, congratulating him on the show and for being Robert-Fucking-Gordon.

He met my handshake with a surprisingly firm and strong grip, a grip of a farmer, or more specifically, a farm hand. I would not want to get into a barroom brawl with Mr. Gordon, even in his sunset years.

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