If you remember shows with Mojo Nixon, Dash Rip Rock and the Dick Nixons, you were doing it wrong. Mojo doesn’t, or not well, anyway. “Some of the New Orleans stories with [Dash Rip Rock’s] Bill Davis are about psychedelic mushrooms,” Nixon says. “I can remember it but I don’t know what happened. It’s not unlike those scenes in Easy Rider where they’re just running around high on acid lookin’ at shit.”

Nixon is largely in retirement from live performance, though he still performs yearly during SXSW at the Continental Club to culminate a day-long show that he hosts. I could explain more, but Nixon’s very capable of speaking for himself, and even on the phone he’s in full Mojo mode. To get the full effect, as you read this imagine someone who’s having a lot of fun being loud and outrageous, and imagine him shouting his answers at you through a bullhorn that’s right by your ear.

What brings you our way?

We’re going on the Bobblehead Tour. Mojo Nixon and the Toadliquors are pretty much retired. We only play once or twice a year. We usually play South by Southwest. I think three years ago we came out of retirement when we released the entire catalog for free. Then last year we came out of retirement when the piano player’s wife ran off and we needed to get him laid. “Mojo Nixon and the Toadliquors Reunite to Get the Piano Player Laid” was a grand success. This year we reunite for three shows; that’s all an old fat man can do. We reunite for three shows, the “Mojo Nixon Bobblehead Tour.” Some crazy punk rockers from Philadelphia, they did [bobbleheads of] Andrew W.K., Keith from the Circle Jerks, and GG Allin, and now Mojo Nixon. You can go to MojoNixon.com; you can purchase your Mojo Nixon bobblehead. It makes the perfect stocking stuffer for your drunk uncle or crazy aunt. You know your crazy aunt that takes too many pills and mixes the medication up with the vodka? She would like one.

So your probably wondering, “Oh, what does it look like?” Well it’s the good-looking Mojo. It’s not the current “Fat Elvis Mojo.” It’s not the cut-off jeans and Hawaiian shirt Mojo, oh no! It’s Mojo 1989, MTV, skinny, dark-haired Elvis hillbilly ninja Mojo. The hillbilly idol, I like to call it. It’s got the big mutton chops and the guitar and I got my hand in the air like Foghorn Leghorn making a point. You know what the difference between Bob Dylan and Mojo Nixon is? Bob Dylan don’t have a fucking bobblehead doll! It’s a limited edition. They’ve already sold 400 of ‘em; there’s only 500. We’re just going to have one at the show because we’re too stupid to figure out how to carry ‘em around. We’re going to send everybody to the website to buy ‘em. At the show, we’re going to give one away, but we’re going to make somebody do something they don’t want to do to get it, and it might involve the piano player or the bass player because I hear the bass players’ girlfriend is leaving him. We might have to get him laid too. My wife is sitting right here so I AM MARRIED [a woman’s voice laughs in the background]. Mojo, how long have you been married? Fifty thousand years; it only seems like a million. Our buddy Bill Davis is coming from Dash Rip Rock to play all three shows. A couple of ol’ roots rockers get out the house, cause a little mayhem.

I hear that the Saints are playing. They moved that game to Sunday night, so Bill and them won’t start till the fucking game is over. WHAT WE WANT IS THE DRUNKEST, HAIRIEST, MOST PROJECTILE-VOMITING Saints fans to come down to the Howlin’ Wolf on Sunday night and see some real fucking hillbilly rock ‘n’ roll. We’re going to open the show—you might have heard this Bruce Springsteen song, “Cadillac Ranch.” We’re going to change it a little bit. Instead of “Cadillac, Cadillac” it’s gonna be “BOBBLE HEAD, BOBBLE HEAD.” And then it’ll go on from there.

Over the years, you’ve had a number of adventures here in New Orleans.

Oh yeah, New Orleans is a place where a man can get in trouble. In normal towns, when the bar closes down you’ve got to go home, but not in New Orleans. In New Orleans, everybody knows a guy who knows a guy, so trouble is just around the corner. We’re going to play at the Howlin’ Wolf and our buddy, the Senator, Steve Watson, owns a bar, The Kingpin and we hope to go there. If somebody dies, it’ll just be a tribute to New Orleans.

I will tell you a story where we were down there. I think I was down there for Mardi Gras working for MTV and Kirk the Jerk from the Dick Nixons showed up out of costume, out of character, and wanted to talk like a normal person. I said, “Oh no, motherfucker. I’m not interested in knowing the real guy; I only wanna know Kirk the Jerk.”

Those shows with Mojo, Dash and the Dick Nixons are still legendary.

We did some good ones. I remember the first time we went there, we played at the original Tipitina’s. Who was that guy? Sonny—was that his name? He had a gun and he’s paying us. We’re getting, for us, a ton a money, like 1,000 or 2,000 bucks and I said, “What, is this a rough neighborhood?” He touches the gun and says, “Well, not anymore!”

So radio is your main gig now?

I do Outlaw Country every weekday afternoon. That’s channel 60 on SIRIUS XM—you know, Lucinda Williams, Steve Earle, Hank Williams, and all things related. And I also have a NASCAR show and a political talk show called Lyin’ Cocksuckers. THAT SHOW’S HUMMIN’. Motherfuckers are calling before the show even starts! Yeah, so I’m doing that full time.

Do you miss playing?

Not really. I’ve also been playing with my buddy Joey Harris, who was in the Beat Farmers. His piano player is Mighty Joe Longa; he’s got the butt cancer, and I’ve been filling in for him. That way I get to play and I don’t have to lead. But I sit around the house playing guitar all the time. I like playing guitar. What I don’t like is playing “Elvis is Everywhere” on a Tuesday night in Des Moines for a bunch of people who don’t give a shit. Anybody can play Saturday night in Houston. That’s easy. It’s a Tuesday night in Des Moines—that’s the hard fucking thing. Plus, I only know of one way to do it. I don’t think anybody would be interested in seeing the healthy, exercising, safe, nice, politically-correct Mojo. People came for the chaos and I delivered. I can only do three of those. It’s tough on everybody. I also saw a lot of cats I know die. The fact that I’m not dead is a fucking miracle . My wife is still stitting right here. She thought, “Well hell, you said you’d be dead when you’re 40; you’re fucking 54 now.” BABY, I’VE BEEN IN OVERTIME FOR QUITE A WHILE! I’m not gonna die. I’m too ornery to die. Too crazy to die. The fucking non-smokers and joggers die every day. Mojo Nixon thrives! Fuck you!

You exist as a giant middle finger to the rest of the world.

Correct. I’m living out of spite. Spite’s a great motivator.

Is it get hard on your voice to go this hard on the radio?

Not at all. This is what I was born to do. Bullshitting is my business and business is good. My voice is a powerful instrument. If we were doing a tour, once I do two or three shows I could do 900. It only gets stronger. If I don’t get too high or too drunk. I could’ve been one of those guys in the old days who sang without a microphone. The problem is, I can’t really sing. That’s where the real problem comes in. Musical talent isn’t my forte; beating people over the head with the beat is.

We have to talk about OffBeat contributing editor John Swenson’s contribution to the Mojo karaoke show at SXSW. [For the show, Nixon’s band played Mojo songs while guests sang the songs. Swenson got up and sang “Tie My Pecker to My Leg.”]

His troll-like presence was there, as if he’d been living under a bridge on the outskirts of town. He impugned the entire Fourth Estate.

“Tie My Pecker to My Leg,” which supposedly me and Country Dick [from the Beat Farmers] wrote, but really it’s an old cowboy chant. Originally “Tie My Pecker to a Tree,” is what the cowboys sang. Then, like “Old Dan Brown,” you just say a nasty little couplet between each chorus. I changed it from “tree” to “leg” and stole the melody subconsciously. That way, I think I’m writing a song. Country Dick had the lyric, “Me, your Mama, some other whore / floating down the river on a shithouse door.” I knew we were on to something when he said that!

Mojo Nixon, Dash Rip Rock and Mahayla play the Howlin’ Wolf Sunday night after the Saints game. Tickets are on sale now.