Goes Far, Flies Near, To The Stars Aways From Here Pt. 2

The Dobie and another series of short reels were in my crosshairs next morning. I threw caution to the wind and didn’t check the website to see just exactly what it was they would be showing, which made what I eventually witnessed that much more interesting. As it turns out, all these were experimental films dealing with sight and sound. There was the boy who found an angel in his pocket, filmed in 1.5D, only one side of the 3D glasses were used to view it, there were multi screens of constantly changing images of post W.W.II Berlin while a computer generated voice with a German accent recited some very odd repetitive poetry, there was a long drum solo filmed in one take where the sound constantly morphed and roman candles exploded and sparks flew everywhere building to the drummer’s grand finale’, there was a woman very methodically eating hot dogs slathered in mustard and pieces of cake, olives two at a time, while she gesticulated for reasons only known to her, there were three women dressed in flowing satin dancing in odd choreographed movements, juxtaposed with old people dancing at a wedding, there were women seated on commodes in a punk rock bathroom doing god knows what, there were clips taken from train towers in Vancouver and as you went up the elevator the scenery changed from one location to another without ever stopping in either descent, or ascent, there were three women in three separate screens simultaneously all playing varying parts of either victim or knife wielder based on Hitchcock’s Psycho, there was landscapes that kept changing with the inclement weather and changes in season, there were two of flickering, hazy images that I don’t have a clue what was what, and then there was “spam letter + google image search = entertainment”, my favorite of the lot, a hilarious farce based on the ubiquitous Nigerian scam letters that circulate like mad over the Internet. In the film a computerized voice reads the letter and each word has a Google image attached to it, so the letter is both being read and told in pictures. All I can say is, lots of coffee and herb went down on this one, but well worth the effort.
The Q&A that followed kept in the surrealistic tone as no one from the audience had any questions, especially me. The filmmakers engaged one another in a mutual love fest though, frothing and wheezing over how great the other was concerning items of the others films which bore no relevance to anything that I know as reality.
I left the theater feeling as if I’d ingested some acid. Entertained, but what was all that about, and like a thermos, how does it know?!
I then tooled back over to the Alamo on South. Lamar where I was witness to a film that moved me to my core, as much as “Cowboy del Amour” did last year. What I saw was “51 Birch Street”, a movie based upon a family who don’t really know exactly what is happening under their very noses, living the Ozzie and Harriet dream. Not until the mother dies, whereupon the filmmaker finds his mother’s journals and diaries, does all come clear. The family then learns the truth, and it isn’t what they thought or imagined.
What prompted this was the filmmakers attempt to make a short film so his daughter would know her grandparents better, conducting many interviews on film, getting them to tell how they met and such. But, in the middle of filming, the mother dies, he finds the journals, and the real story emerges, and the filming takes on a much different purpose. To complicate matters, only three weeks after the mother’s death, the father travels to South Florida and returns with a new woman, his secretary from over 25 years ago.
The film is so well done I really don’t want to tell you anymore about it, as I highly, make that HIGHLY recommend that everyone see it. It will be showing on HBO in January of 2007, from what I gathered. As a matter of fact, this film should be required viewing for anyone whose parents are getting to get up there in years. This film will help you deal with those feelings that come with age and loss and change.
“51 Birch Street” is one of the most beautiful movies I’ve ever seen. And the people involved were all so honest. A total joy to watch. I cried more than I’ve ever cried in any movie ever. Tears of joy, tears of sadness, tears of redemption and understanding all too well. The editing, and the music, all were superbly done, too. In a word, fantastico!
The Q&A afterwards was equally emotionally charged, as there before me stood the father and his new bride, and the son, the filmmaker. And just like in the film, these people were incredibly forthright and honest, wonderful, wonderful human beings. And the greatest part was I got to meet the father afterwards where we had a most insightful, generous exchange.
SXSW is tits up, folks!
I had plans to try and catch some more moves later during the week, but knowing how much I’d be playing during the music festival I deduced that would be all but an impossibility, not to mention, after seeing such a glorious film I decided to end the film portion of SXSW on a high note. So I did.
Later that evening I had a rehearsal with a Los Angeles based singer songwriter, Kelly Dalton. A humorous side note, Kelly’s mother was a session singer in the 60’s and one of her credentials of note was she was one of the singers on the Brady Bunch theme. Ah, life is a carnival... A cool addition to his presentation was a talented multi-instrumentalist from the Flying Burrito Bros., John Beland, who added a most luxurious voice to the affair. A groovy shindig, all in all.
After that rehearsal I went directly into another one with Emile and our new super band. All I got to say is keep your eyes and ears peeled for anytime Emile Millar plays in town. Come on out, you’ll be glad you did.
Last year’s SXSW music portion was for me like wrestling with a 20 ft. pissed off alligator. The gigs were grueling, parking worse, and load ins were agonizing. So I began this years with varying degrees of trepidation. Imagine my surprise when I venture to the first gig and I find a parking place to unload my gear right next to the stage! What hath God wrought? thought I! Little did I know but that singular occurrence was a foreshadowing of the next few days to come. A wild, glorious, and freewheeling few days it was to be, jam packed with a kaleidoscope of experiences that would greatly expand my horizons while adding luster to the fabric which constitutes my life.
The gig with Kelly and Emile at Opal Divine’s was get down fun! Everybody onstage had their ears wide open and the musical interplay was what you live for as a musician.
After a fat Opal’s burger, I came back home more tired than I could ever remember, so I hopped in the bed and said good-bye to the world until tomorrow.
First gig of the day was at Lucy’s Boatyard where I performed with Patricia Vonne for her Scottish label, Measured Records. The site they’d chosen for this showcase was exquisite. A gorgeous day on the lake surrounded by the gently rolling mountains was inspiring to the nth. Sat at the bar and noshed on some crawfish egg rolls and listened to two sexy young sisters whose voices blended terrifically. Great harmonies. Next up was Patricia and all I can say is we body slammed the set. Again, big ears, lots of energy, just what you want from a performance.
Ended the evening by appearing at Spill with the creme de la creme of Austin singer/songwriters featuring Johnny Goudie, Billy Harvey, and Kacy Crowley on the bill. I performed a rather spunky, spirited set with Billy. Each of the performers gave their all, threw down until they were empty vessels. Big time fun and lots of hosanna heys afterward. What an amazing night of music this was!
I then hitched a ride with my buddy, Alex Gonzales, over to the Fox and Hound where we lay witness to what I think is the best new band in America, “The Brazilian Girls”. They didn’t disappoint and got to hang with them afterwards as I’d met them when they played SXSW the year before. Cool folk. Period. Exchanged some numbers with them and made plans to meet up the next day.
Caught a cab home as Alex had left before they finished and only when exiting the cab did I realize my mistake. My keys were in my drum case which was in Alex’ truck! YIKES! I called his cell but he was fast asleep, long gone. I then began to ponder exactly where I’d sleep as I was locked out of my house. The flower beds began to look very inviting. Right when I was about to give up a guy walked into his apartment and the lights inside were all on. What did I have to lose? I knocked on his door and asked if there was an emergency number to call to be let in in situations such as this, or did he have a ladder? He didn’t have either, but he did have a drunk friend that he said could climb like a monkey.
Luckily my girls, Lily and Bela, were hanging out on the balcony, the back door to the apartment wide open. After I gave them the command to chill we hoisted brother man up by his standing on our upraised palms and the drunk monkey scampered up and into my apartment.
I can’t tell you how happy I was to get into my own bed! Joy to the world!!
Next day was a doozy. Yes, Alex brought my keys by and we had a good laugh on that one.
After a quick meet-up at Factory People with Jesse and Aaron, the rhythm section of The Brazilian Girls, I made my way to my first gig of the evening with Billy Harvey at Threadgills. Lots of cool folks, faces who make me smile, were in attendance. The chicken fried steak was mighty fine. The gig was spot on, too. We ended the set with Billy playing a stylephone, a musical toy that Billy played with a fevered abandon. Afterwards all those people who make me smile gathered ‘round and the feeling of community struck me then. What a great town we live in!
Next I ventured over to The Copa where a fantastic night of music was ahead. Michael Ramos and Charanga Cakewalk began the evening. Really soothing vibe. Patricia Vonne was up next, and despite some monitor problems, we turned up the heat a notch or two and really got some butts moving. David Garza followed and was his usual genius self. Lots of love was in the room with many of my friends from the Latin music community in attendance.
The night was far from done though. I stumbled over to Eternal on 6th St. where I caught the last couple of songs by The Brazilian Girls. They were in mighty form and Sabina, the ever soulful and outrageous singer, was wearing one of her trademark outfits from Saturn, a multi-pronged furry contraption that looked like big hairy tumors had glommed themselves onto her in a very obscene way. Gotta love that gal! The hour was late and after some jawing between establishment and Jesse, the bas player, right in the middle of the next song the club cut the power. Unfazed everyone flocked backstage where the bouncers got a little carried away and began physically tossing people out. To me this was the perfect ending to the night; total out and out chaos!!!! I visited with Jesse and Aaron and Sabina on the sidewalk for a few minutes, but I left them with their adoring throng, having had my fill for one night.
I was waiting on a pedi cab when right next to me two guys who were talking suddenly erupted into a balls out fist fight. And both of them had several friends and then they all starting duking it out, too! Utter pandemonium! I stood in the vortex with fists and bodies flying all around me, within mere inches of me, writhing forms piling out into the street, crashing over cars, and there I stood untouched. Girls were screaming and the gang fight continued for about another thirty seconds and then, almost like they all heard a silent command, they all stopped and took off running. ...Man, that’s what I call entertainment! Right about then a pedi cab appeared as if by divine providence and he took me to Caesar Chavez where he said I could get one of the few cabs left at this time of night. I hailed a cab almost immediately. The gods were smiling upon me!
Got home and felt a hankering for a cookie and some chocolate milk, so I waked across the street to the local 7-Eleven. When I was exiting the store a man appeared out of the dark and walked straight up to me. It was unnerving in that it was really late, around 4 PM, and there wasn’t a soul in sight, but here comes this guy right at me. As it turns out, a very pleasant chap. He introduces himself, says he caught the set at Threadgills earlier, and proceeded to tell me that after talking to my drumming friend, Rafael Gayol, about me, he knew I would have the answers. And by some stroke of divine intervention he is walking aimlessly, deep in thought, then he spies me across the street! How weird is that?! He then hits me with some really heavy questions about what he should do with his life, being a drummer approaching his later years and all. I live for situations such as this. I took him back into the store where I bought he and I another cookie, then we walked outside and sat on the corner and got into the meat of the matter. After I’d given him as much advice as I could, we shook hands and he departed, disappearing like an apparition. Crazy wild wacky wonderful, all rolled into one.
I returned home, drank my chocolate milk, crawled into bed with Bela and slept the sleep of the gratified and thankful.
Woke up and got to cranking as I had an early afternoon gig with Emile at Treasure Isle. All I can say is this; rock and roll isn’t pretty in the daylight; the worst haircuts, the worst clothes, the worst skin conditions I can ever remember seeing. Go ugly week for sure. And to my amusement, I got the feeling this day of the living dread thought they looked real cool. Oh well, just don’t come out when the sun is up, spare us all!
Despite the horror show outside our set went well. This band really has something. The crowd was small but enthusiastic, a group of lesbian girls who seemed to dig what we were doing.
Got home, took a nap, and then got ready for phase two of the day.
Barbara Holden, a most incredible, dynamic woman whom I’m privileged to have met, accompanied me to Big Red Sun where we noshed on some scrumptious pot stickers and truffles, juked and jived to the energetic strains of Ian MacLagen, then the K-Tel Hit Machine got some butts moving under the moonlit sky. Again, a great sense of community, lots of hugs and laughter, and a sense of belonging. Big Red Sun rocks, too!
We then ventured over to 6th street where at Eternal we caught a haunting Lisa Germano on solo piano. This woman writes some really gorgeous, compelling songs. A real artist. Not for the average listener, but she sends me. Got to meet her afterward as we know a lot of the same folks so I was afforded the opportunity to tell her just how much I dug her. And I did.
Barbara and I left then without knowing just where we’d end up next. Just in the flow you know... Whilst traipsing down 6th a friend of mine from San Antonio, a French expatriate named Delphine, appeared out of nowhere and grabbed me by the arm and drug us into a club to hear someone she thought I should. Lanky was his name and admittedly he had some incredible melodic content, and furthermore, we are now looking to do some work together. Oh yeah.
After bidding Barbara adieu I arrived home feeling no pain whatsoever, and as I was walking through the security doors to my building I hear an incredile melody being sung. And better yet, I’m intimately familiar with this melody! And I own this melody!! Who could this be?! So I hightailed it next door only to find Sarah Bettens and Eric Grossman from K’s Choice, one of my favorite bands, holding court. I hadn’t any idea they were in town, much less right next door! Had a very pleasant visit with the both of them. I think Sarah writes the best melodies in rock.
Ingested some more vino rosa, feeling all warm and squishy after such a majestic day and evening. Bliss, I tell you, total and absolute bliss...
Next day, the final day, is one where most have already gone, the party winding down to a dull roar. I did nothing. Laid about and took it real easy, trying to absorb all that had swirled about my life for the past week. An amazing journey, to be sure.
But, feeling a bit peckish as night fell, I ventured over to Freddy’s on S. First where I met Emile for a bite to eat, and without even sitting down was asked by Will Sexton to sit in with a vicious slide guitarist. Hell yeah! I played a funky old snare with a stick in my left hand and an upended bass drum with a mallet in my right, a kit of Will’s design. Soon enough I was rootin’ like a root hog on some scary ass hillbilly song. Got the blood pumpin’! Afterward I sat down with Emile and ordered a burger and some onion rings. This next group to perform really got me, The Horseshoe Ramblin’ Orchestra, some of the finest broken down for real country music I’ve heard in quite some time. Real unadorned and done with integrity. Very refreshing and the perfect capper to such a wild week.
After their set was done and my burger laid to waste, only two onion rings left which had Lily’s and Bela’s name on them, I was leaving Freddy’s when I heard an unmistakable accent. Lo and behold there sat my very good friend whom I don’t get to see near enough of, Torquil Creevy, who’s worked with Sting’s publishing division for many years. We had a great chat, always good to see my friends from all over the world, and again, was struck with just how great a community we live in. What a special, magical place.
I returned home to black butts waggin’ and a howling wind. I gave them their rings, opened the blinds, and saw a spectacular light show on the horizon that appeared to be rapidly approaching. Next thing I know there are tornado warnings everywhere and a most hellatious storm overtakes Austin. The power and the fury was simply divine.
When dawn broke it was like waking up to a world that had just come into being; a brand new, sparkling, shiny place. The storms washed away all the dirt and grime, the crowds had since returned from whence they came. A quite calm permeated the air.
A poetic ending to a poetic week.
...And the colored girls sing, “God bless America! God love Austin! Hellzapoppin’! Thank you SXSW! Thine the glory! Amen!”
Now if I can just rest up as next year ain’t that far away...