Gore's father insisted that his son spend his summers on the family farm near Carthage, Tennessee, where he learned to swing an axe, clear tobacco patches and plow slanted hillsides.
The performance, when it finally kicks off, is akin to a mad jamming session with cacophonous contributions from the cheek-to-jowl audience and spontaneous outbreaks of dancing for those who can clear enough room to swing their elbows.