3 guys, 3 chords and a groove
By MARTY RACINE
Copyright 2003 Houston Chronicle

ZZ Top's Dusty Hill, left, and Billy Gibbons wear their rodeo finest as they fill Reliant Stadium with their brand of homegrown boogie Tuesday night.
Forget the Rolling Stones.

The longest running act in rock 'n' roll -- original version -- showed up Tuesday at the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo to rumble Reliant Stadium with some long-in-the-tooth homegrown boogie.

Houston's ZZ Top.

That "little ol' band from Texas" -- guitarist Billy Gibbons, bassist Dusty Hill and drummer Frank Beard -- has been crunching the blues into animated fuzztone rock since 1970, when the Stones were just another '60s refugee shuffling their lineup.

In their second rodeo appearance the power trio laid down three chords and a cloud of dust covering a career that has maintained its integrity from its roadhouse roots through synthesizer machine-honk and back again.

Before long the sharp-dressed men -- black-and-white sequined ranchero duds, not-so-cheap sunglasses, awning-size buckaroo hats -- were Waitin' For The Bus, which segued naturally into Jesus Just Left Chicago, one of the baddest numbers in the ZZ catalog and lighted with a golden-green glow cast from on high.

Buck Naked, from the upcoming Mescalero album, was a forgettable teen-fantasy knockoff. If they're lucky it might morph into an MTV reality show.

Beer Drinkers and Hell Raisers returned the program to ZZ's honky-tonk beginnings.

ZZ's set took a number of deep breaths between thumping backbeats. Rough Boy let the air out with little effect. This is not a ballad-sensitive ensemble, though every act is entitled to a few nightly throwaways.

Finally the boys returned to "early style" with Gibbons working the glass slide on Just Got Paid. For all the Top's efforts to expand stylistically, this reaffirmed the righteous groove and searing licks of what brung 'em.

Hitting the stretch, the one-hour set leaned into the rail with Gimme All Your Lovin', Sharp Dressed Man and Legs, with the beard brothers flashing their shag-carpet guitars.

Cruising for an encore -- not common at the rodeo -- the mop-chinned characters, as if to reward the faithful, dipped into the mud that settled on their early career: La Grange and Tush.

On the latter a stage man lighted a cigar for Gibbons, and he puffed it like a cabellero while blithely wanging on the frets. Then the boys rambled off in a horse-drawn wagon looking like preachers who have called to the choir.

After so many years, after so many turns and so many bands come and gone, they were home again.