Reply To: SXSW 2024
I’ve been persuaded, bribed, IMPLORED to arrive here. Skidding and scattering, undone and unshowered, fresh off a gig and by god falling into body of work. It’s been one year and five months since arriving in Austin, Texas. The rest of the city and I have been sleeping on the ground – not the floor, not the patio, but the good-enough dirt. From down here it’s easy to put an ear to the earth and hear the cattle herd of tourism sure ‘nuff coming in as we speak. The ground shakes, dust cloud on the horizon. Venue managers and barbacks alike stand outside the front door and just LOOK at the billowing wall, shapes and faces forming and unraveling as premonitions of the impending stampede. South by South West in three … two …
Last year I did all I could do, booking and running sound for the flutter that frequents Butterfly Bar. A DIY grab bag, garden stage and dirt-floor dining room under a pagan moon. Two speakers, two monitors, and a handful of mics are the only tools I’ve needed to put on concerts, occult rituals, naked feasts, and such a range of performances that I couldn’t possibly imagine til living through them. Bar and bathrooms live under a tin roof next to the shining relic of a hundred seat black box called The Vortex Theatre. Run by a stout witch for the past 35 years, it is deadly feminist, third eye woke, bold, and as brazen as the burning Texas sun. Graced with the locally legendary Patrizi’s Food Truck, the campus brings in a smattering of people that could never guess what curiosities their visit will bring them. I’ve fought tooth and nail to build the music programming and production into something to be proud of, suffering budget-cuts, heartbreaks, and more sleeping on the god damned dirt. I’ve built a musical community that fancies our establishment the proper blend of weird yet heartfelt. We regularly set songs on their maiden voyage, tweak and tailor sets in real time, and in general get artists comfortable and loose enough to let their freak flags fly.
Yes, last year we toiled in the sun all festival long at our little off-beat half-venue. But this year … we walk through the portal into the big fray that is proper, down-home, crazy South by South West.
Yah starting off we’re running monitors at Stubb’s BBQ, a 2,500 cap venue that’s, you guessed it – outside on the dirt. Poised in the Red River Cultural district, Stubb’s is the biggest of the venues on the strip, followed in size and notoriety by the rock n roll staple that is Mohawk. You roll along to neon-lit Cheer Up Charlies, dark and dungeous 13th Floor, American brick room Chess Club, on, and on, and on. I’ll spend some time running security around the corner at Empire Control Room and Garage, a local dig that prides itself on being fully, completely independent. And that’s just Red River.
Throughout the week you’ll find us hosting a fully improvised open jam at the sleeper stage of Voodoo Doughnut, cream-filled in the middle of Dirty 6th, the raucous riot that is a sloppy combo of Nashville’s Broadway New Orleans’ Bourbon Street. Every. Single. Building will have live music from sunup, to sundown, all the way til the city forces everything to close for a couple hours of much needed rest.
Spending most of our living and sleeping hours on East Sixth, you don’t have to look too far to spot the real indie icons and true-as-sin cowboys. Hotel Vegas crowns the stars in local musician’s eyes as the coolest spot in Austin – which also harbors it with the most vitriolic haters of any venue I’ve ever witnessed. Conjoined by a brick wall and a courtyard with Volstead, these sister establishments are THEE PLACES to show face if you value your social clout at all. Your humble narrator will be working several A2 shifts out on the back patio for official shenanigans, as well as a couple stints running sound at Volstead. Nearby you’ll find lines wrapped around Shangri-La, Zilker Brewing, and Lefty’s for official events. More people than you’ve ever seen on a street outside of New York, the festival in it’s fullest swing is a thing to behold.
And that’s just the official shit. Every bar, every business, every vacant stoop, will have music going EVERY DAY. You’re invited to a house show up the street with free joints, sponsored by Red Bull. You catch wind of a small building tucked behind a restaurant that has a live art installation and noise show going all night long. You heard there is a famous comedian holding court inside this bar if you could just get the bouncer to get his head out of his ass and quit letting his friends in before you. Did I mention we’re having an open jam at Voodoo Doughnut on dirty 6th? Wednesday night, it’ll be up and running by 7pm.
I’m working some 80+ hours during the 7 day tenure that our sterling captain Chris Huber is in town, a fine reward for all the effort I’ve put into navigating this city. To have our crowned Chubes crashing in my home studio, caffing up at Cuvee, and roaming on foot into the streets of Texas is about as lofty of a goal as I could have set when I first tumbled into town. The first year and some-odd months have all been leading up to the OPPORTUNITY to participate in the the antics of our musical mecca during it’s holy season. It’s South by South West baby. Hold onto your hats, because everything is bigger out here. Just you wait.
