The Ragged End Of Nowhere: Deep In The Heart

It's 4am Saturday morning. In 3 hours we leave to fly to Atlanta. I can't wait to get out of Texas. Can. Not. Wait. We flew into Dallas and did a show at the Gypsy Tea Room.

Albert loads in

It's in the 'cool' part of Dallas known as Deep Elum. While I concede that it is the 'cool' part of Dallas, it's still one of the most depressing places I've ever been. Every time I come here it makes me question my career choice. We watched some really ominous clouds blow in over the city and bring a massive thunderstorm.

We did the gig and the bus rolled to Houston. Possibly my least favorite city ever.
Richard has taken to buying stuffed animals for the bus. The teal bunny is the softest. It gives Richard solace as we close in on Houston...

The Houston venue was the worst so far. A nasty little room with crap gear in a grey, industrial section of what seemed to be Chinatown. It was pouring rain all day & night. The slideout of the bus leaked and a whole side of the front lounge got soaked.

I woke up with a lot of neck & shoulder pain and had a hard time being up & about trying to work. Then, while going to the bus for more meds, I tried to run thru the rain and tweaked something in my shoulder. I spent the next hour or so in periodic bouts of painful muscle spasms that were causing weird, involutary contortions. I took 2 percocets which got me thru the show but that basically left me high & nauseous for the show. I was glad when it was over and felt good about putting Dallas & Houston behind us.

We've spent the last 2 days in Austin for the South By Southwest music festival. While I have to say that everything went pretty smooth and that all in all it was a much better experience than I've had here previously, I still consider SXSW to be one of the darker circles of hell. It's basically this one week every year when all the underlings and minions of the music business get sent to Austin to 'network' and 'scout talent'. This basically translates to thousands of 20-something, pseudo-hip, fame-worshipping posers getting shitfaced and parading their credentials around like badges of honor while they force virtually every band in the world to come play in every kind of makeshift, shithole venue to entertain them. Interns feel important. The 47 'next-big-things' dress up in a homogenous, ridiculous emulation of the latest East Village fashions. Vapid groupie girls stumble around in absurd heels and show off the hottest in rock-skank chic. All the lamest elements of the music business are all in one place at the same time. And forget actually trying to see any music. Anything worth a shit will be at best a pain in the ass to get into and the crowds are all industry wanks so they give nothing back to the bands, who usually proceed to fake their way thru as short a set as possible so they can get the hell out of there. And now, after having finished our 2am slot at the Blender party, that's exactly what we'll do. At 7am we're off to catch a flight to Atlanta where we play a show tomorrow. Sleep is for the weak.

6th Street, Austin, SXSW