Killer Whales, Blue Dogs, And Blowfish: Tracing Charleston’s Musical Lineage

By Stratton Lawrence

You can loosely trace the evolution of Charleston’s club music scene by the quality of its pissers.

“Captain Harry’s used to be crazy,” reads the online post of a Widespread Panic fan, reminiscing about seeing his favorite band in one of Charleston’s bygone watering holes. “I was in there one time for Halloween and the girls’ bathroom line was so bad tha…