Arkansas’s first environmental education state park interprets the importance of the natural world and our place within it.
by John Tarpley
8 p.m., White Water Tavern. $5.
When the "Holy Ghost Rock & Roll Revival" pitches its proverbial tent each first Wednesday of the month at White Water, the tavern becomes what the band describes as "a sort of a church for pagans – saints and sinners." Now, let's not delve into the whole "saloon as church, bar as communion table, rock as gospel and tequila is the Eucharist" metaphor that's been belched up by show-going drunks for decades. Instead, the still-new group taps directly into the long-standing, patently Southern well of gospel-sweetened roots, soul, swamp rock and blues music with "no preaching, no church-i-ness and no religion." But there is an undeniable sheen of religion that lies thinly atop the music, an ever-present hint of old-time church goodliness that's never proselytizing and only present if you're out to see it there. (Much like that wooden cross that's suggested over guitarist Nathaniel Greer's head in the picture.) All of this, if not in the lyrics, lives in the actual reason behind the shows; Monkhouse donates the night's $5 cover to SOAR and Helping Arkansas, two homeless advocacy groups based in Little Rock.
7:30 p.m., The Peabody. $5 donation.
Little Rock keeps rocking for a good cause the following night, as well, with a triple-bill of energetic indie bands taking to the downtown hotel to raise money for, this time, a superstar charity, Heifer International. First up: Carver, a new act from Conway that leans a healthy roots influence up against its indie-rock swagger. If the guys of Carver were a Heifer gift, they would be the $20 flock of chicks, because they're young and all over the place. Next up: Whale Fire, the long-lived sunshine rockers whose whip-tight harmonies and surfboard-ready guitar licks should be no stranger to regular readers of this column. If Whale Fire was a Heifer gift animal, it would most definitely be the $30 box of bees, because the band is sharp, fast and prone to making sticky, sweet music. Finally: Sea Nanners, the blossoming rookies and Times favorites who are soon to release "Queen of the Brodeo," their debut 7" with relentlessly catchy songs that have been on heavy rotation in my headphones for weeks. And if Sea Nanners were a Heifer gift animal, it would be the $120 goat, and not just because, on the webpage, it has a cute, longing look that fits the band's sound, but because singer Thom Asewicz's vocals — some of the best and most idiosyncratic in town — are shuddered and vibrato, much like that of a singing goat.
EGGSHIBITION XX: 'EVOLUTION OF THE EGG'
7 p.m., Jack Stephens Center, UALR. $75.
What began 20 years ago as an ambitious and, let's face it, pretty odd idea for a charity benefit — auctioning off egg-shaped objects decorated by artists and celebrities — has since turned into one of the biggest local fundraisers around. Since its inception, Eggshibition has raised upwards of $2 million for Youth Home, the outreach agency for troubled adolescents. This year, in addition to the decorated eggs, the event is offering weekend trips to New York, Rio and Las Vegas and, for the football fan, primo tickets and a catered tailgate for the Nov. 19 Razorbacks game against Mississippi State as well as two seats in the Jones Family Suite at Cowboy Stadium for a yet-to-be-announced game.
7 p.m., Verizon Arena. $75-$44.
He is, by anybody's count, one of the biggest country singers to twang his way to CMT-era superstardom. He's the voice behind 18 singles and nine albums to reach the top of Billboard's Hot Country Songs charts, one of the biggest touring names in music, period. Huge achievements all, no doubt. But with the personality-driven world of Walmart-country choked with faux authenticity, Chesney is just about the only one of his caliber who actually comes across as the "regular dude" he's branded to be. That, combined with the fact that he's an embodiment of the "hardscrabble singer turns huge" storybook tale, makes him even more endearing. Not bad for a guy who grew up in a pop. 900 town under the shadow of local hero Chet Atkins. The music? Well, he's no Brad Paisley. His discography is freckled with songs that became punchlines and even sputtered on the country charts. But for every "She Thinks My Tractor's Sexy," Chesney can unload a melodic, gorgeous track like his recent "Somewhere With You," a smart, inspired track with hooks rooted in Elton John, melodies from Rod Stewart's finer handbooks and a moody air akin to "Need You Now," Lady Antebellum's Grammy-sweeping 2010 single. He's joined by Billy Currington, who returns to Arkansas for his third time in less than a year, and Uncle Kracker, the PG-rated Kid Rock whose own story, which takes him from rap-rock to family-friendly country, is one of the strangest in recent memory.