Texas Chain Music Massacre

Editor's Note: The following story is based on actual events. It follows a young reporter on a trip to Austin, Texas, one pleasant weekend in March. He has not been seen since. Even if he had lived a long life, he would never have forgotten what he encountered in that once-frontier town. His story has come to be known as the Texas Chain Music Massacre.



On Friday, March 19, a remake of Dawn of the Dead splashed onto theater screens across America. It featured zombies doing what they do best - taking over towns, gnawing flesh and making a general mess of things. Braaiins! Moooorre braaiins! The week the movie debuted, a similar incident occurred in Austin, Texas. The streets were overrun with creatures impeding traffic, jaywalking and making a literal mess of things. As they shuffled about the street-side food vendors, you could hear their gurgling mouths and grumbling stomachs: Gyros! Barbecue! Hamburgers! Pizza! Best Wurst! Entire taco trucks were pilfered.

What growled, grumbled and salivated the most weren't their mouths but their ears, yes, their ears, I tell you. They hungered for music, all types of music. And music they got by the heaping shovel load as part of the 2004 South By Southwest music festival - held every March for the past 18 years. The pay-one-price festival is five days and nights of music and conferences designed to develop, educate and showcase boys and girls who will one day grace a Rolling Stone cover. It spans the city's downtown area, putting a legion of about 1,000 bands (Sunday is a little light) into its 50-plus venues. Even still, with deep audio appetites these crowds still scream for more at the end of the night.

Crazed by expense accounts and the smell of fresh talent, the rock zombies devoured Cake's unique blend of danceable rock with chewy nuggets of clever lyrics. They licked the frosting right off Alice Donut, a heavy rock band fronted by a weirdo singing oddball songs and talking about the Chunnel. Health nuts and simple beats/futuristic poetry freaks stuck to Beans. The do-it-yourself zombies stocked up on Wheat and their intelligent and driving indie pop, which is a term used to describe many, many, many SXSW bands. With all the cheddar to be made and spent, how could they not choose Cracker? Mixing sweet with pork, The Honeydogs filled a taste for world meets alt. country. For the feminist or very PC zombie, Po Girl served up murder ballads and country. If any dish went cold, before a zombie could get their lip piercings out, there was always This Microwave World to zap it up, post punk style. At the end of any good gorge, a sip of something is in order. Instead of beer, have a Singapore Sling or a chug of The Dr. Pepper Family out of The Gourds.

Vapid creatures indeed, they ate Cake and ran, missing a chance to party with the architect himself, Little Richard. If they had stayed, they could have enjoyed a steaming bowl of "Jambalaya" or gotten inspirational books and an autographed picture Richard had his minions pass out to the crowd. Although a big part of the festival is designed to help promote the future chart-toppers, there was no shortage of legends on the buffet line. Kris Kristofferson played a few sets, some surprise gigs, around town. One showcase, loaded down like a Texas barbecue platter, featured Dwight Yoakam, The Flatlanders, Delbert McClinton and the Drive-By Truckers. At an MSN gig, the line wrapped around the building for Grandmaster Flash.

During the day, the unstoppable listening machines made nice, wearing their messenger bags, too-small T-shirts - ear always on a cell phone - and went to conferences ranging from demo listening, to music writing to where to eat on the road and all points in-between. Good thing, too, because they will need it when their garage project hits it big.

And just what SXSW 2004 player will be the next household name? why it's ... it's ... Arrrgh! gurgle ... slurp ... Gyros! Hamburgers! Best Wurst! ... gurgle ...



Hits & Misses

by Nick Pittman

Little Richard: It would have been worth the butt-numbing six-hour drive to Austin just to hear Little Richard say, "Shut up! Or I am going to scream like a white woman!" to some fan. He may have to buy the locks, but he still has the chops. Zombie like!

Joan Jett & The Black Hearts: The Annette Funicello of rock 'n' roll. She lIkes to pepper her chipper banter with swear words and sing about her reputation. Drew Landry and I couldn't figure out if she sang "The Warrior," "Hey Mickey" or "Hit Me with Your Best Shot." Zombie wouldn't even eat your brains!

The (International) Noise Conspiracy: The lead singer and guitarist for this band wore matching Where's Waldo striped shirts. I don't know where they found him, but please leave him there. Zombie run screaming away!

American Analog Set: After a long day of being on my feet and hotel complications, this soothing band put me at ease. Lots of space to their sound. The singer is a little too Soft Cell, and it is not something I would usually dig, but it is good music. Zombie soothed!

Cake: Not a big fan of any cake other than chocolate, but these mid-'90s hitsters were all right. If you like their albums, you'll like their show. Got points from me for uniqueness and playing "Stick Shifts and Safety Belts." Zombie indifferent.

Hockey Night: A little disappointed that they didn't sound like their samples. A loud Weezer-ish band instead, but played a good show. Zombie go from one emotion to next!

George W. Bush: The king of all zombies made an appearance being pulled behind a car with a lamp shade on his head and his pants on fire, while Bob Marley played from a loudspeaker. In other towns where this float has been, folks threw barbed insults and shot the drivers the rod. Here, it was met with applause. Zombie see through your lies.

BR5-49: Not too long ago I would have gotten excited about a twangy country/roadhouse band. It's par and this band really didn't do much to raise the bar. Zombie uninspired.

Mickey Rourke: You never know who you'll run into getting a foot or so long "Hottie" Dog outside of La Zona Rosa before the Dwight Yoakam set. Believe it or not, Rourke is a swell guy who's happy to take a break from dressing his wiener to shake a hand or two. Just what does a star take on his meat? There are some secrets you never tell. Zombie say you will always be Harley Davidson.

Dwight Yoakam: Speaking of guys in tight pants and cowboy boots who caught stardom in the '80s, Yoakam is an exception to the typical country artist on the charts today. No jingoism, lots of tradition and the dues paid, so no one throws a bottle when he covers Johnny Cash. Zombie like guitars, Cadillacs and hillbilly music.

James Hand & Band: No one is ever going to replace Hank Williams, but this honky-tonker comes close to providing a suitable replacement. Old country in the Williams vein with that high voice goes well at the Broken Spoke, an Austin bar where country folks - narrow-brim country not trucker-hat country - go to dance and grub. Zombie think you a long-gone daddy.

Brown Whorenet: There's not a lot of noise rock bands with keyboards, a saxophone, sound effects, balloon squeals and front men as nutty as these guys. Right in the middle of a noise effects stew, they break into singing a slow funk jam about sexy shoes. At times, absolutely unbearable. Always fun to watch. Zombie's ears still ringing.

nick.pittman@timesofacadiana.com