Sometimes rock 'n' roll is best served Southern-fried, with side dishes like long beards, spinning fuzzy guitars and misogyny that's thinly veiled as goddess worship. ZZ Top has been a musical guilty pleasure since childhood, when I wanted to walk in the high heels and bobby socks of the "Legs" girl, getting gorgeous and kicking ass to the sounds of a nice guitar riff.

Sometimes rock 'n' roll is best served Southern-fried, with side dishes like long beards, spinning fuzzy guitars and misogyny that's thinly veiled as goddess worship. ZZ Top has been a musical guilty pleasure since childhood, when I wanted to walk in the high heels and bobby socks of the "Legs" girl, getting gorgeous and kicking ass to the sounds of a nice guitar riff.

ZZ Top and their friends in Lynyrd Skynyrd, who share the bill Tuesday at The Schott, play pure denim-beer-and-sex rock, the hot biker cousin of country and blues. Count on sets of non-threatening classic rock, custom-made for singing, head bobbing and air guitar. Also: Bring a cell phone (instead of the ol' lighter) for what's sure to be a painfully/delightfully long rendition of "Freebird."