The day before me and Aaron left for Austin, we met up at Laurene’s house and the three of us spent a night at Catbirds to celebrate St. Patrick’s day with Stewart, John, and Andrea. Angela and Matt stopped by unexpectedly and we all put our chairs around two tables and talked about the Clash, the working class, and proper grooming techniques over beer and cider. To be perfectly honest, Aaron and Laurene and I shouldn’t have been there because we all had to wake up at 7 in the morning; Laurene had work and Aaron and I had to be in Austin before noon to beat the traffic.
Because of our poor decision to spend a late night at a bar before our road trip, the morning was pretty rough. Laurene woke up at 7 and went to take a shower. I woke up at 7:15 to brush my teeth and wash my face and put more pomade in my hair. Aaron woke up at 7:20 to pack up some clothes and by 7:30 we were in the car and on the highway. We stopped by a Jack in the Box, the same Jack in the Box we always go to on our way to Austin, and for the first time ever they fucked up our order. I ordered a Sourdough Jack and they gave me some sort of sandwich with an egg, a slice of ham, and a slice of American cheese in between two pieces of sourdough bread. It’s called the Sourdough Breakfast or something and it is so fucking horrible. Further down we stopped by a Buc-ee’s so Aaron could buy a souvenir t-shirt for the guy at Alternative Press that gave us VIP passes. We accidentally blocked a Dr Pepper representative’s truck in the parking lot and we apologized. Then I showed him my Dr Pepper tattoo and it blew his mind so much that he didn’t even know what to say.
We pulled up into Austin at around 11:00 in the morning. I stopped by my aunt and uncle’s and dropped off some of my luggage. They were headed towards Congress for breakfast and I was headed to the Red 7 so they dropped me off on 6th and I walked the rest of the way. I wrote down the set times for the Red 7 and walked over to the Radio Room to see the set times at the Paste Party. They didn’t have one but the line was roughly a mile long. I call up my friend Pam who got into town from Houston earlier in the week and told her what was up. I went back to the Red 7 and watched LAKE, Wavves, Loney Dear, and then Pam showed up in time to see the Thermals. We walked to the Radio Room and stopped by the Paste Party to see Loney Dear again because she just missed them. We were scouting around for free stuff but all the good stuff was taken. We went back to the Red 7 and watched the Vivian Girls’ set which was fucking awesome. Pam and I split up and I met up with Aaron again. We drove to the east side of town to the CoLab party. We stopped and picked up a pizza along the way. Upon arriving at the CoLab space I traded some slices of pizza for beer and tea and then we saw Papermoons play. Ben Murphy dropped his jingle bells mid-song so I had to pick them up for him. We talked to everyone for a while after the show and then headed to the Red Scoot Inn to see Homopolice’s showcase.
I’m not gonna say what happened to the Homopolice but because of certain circumstances, only one member of the band would be playing the showcase and that member is Chris Ryan. We heard of the situation beforehand so Aaron and I made it a point to see Homopolice that night.
I call up Chris Ryan for directions and we arrive at the bar a little bit early. We walk up to the entrance to see a lonely Chris Ryan sitting on a stone bench by himself, depressingly lit by a lonely streetlight. We get to talking and Chris Ryan tells us of how he thought it’d be a good idea to play but now he just feels stupid and thinks it’s a waste of time. We decide to walk into the bar and we were immediately hit with 3 pieces of information that could potentially ruin our night: the showcase is badge + wristband only, cost $8, and is 21+. Aaron and I think that people who buy wristbands and badges for SXSW are stupid because all the good bands will play free shows all week long, we refuse to pay $8 to see our friend play, and I don’t have a fake ID so I can’t get into this bar. Chris Ryan walked in and left us in the dust. We immediately start to joking hassle the cute girls running the door. Aaron exclaimed “Is this show 8 fucking dollars?” to the girl. As I was standing by the gate, I realized we had a perfectly clear view of the stage because there was literally NOBODY there and the entrance was pretty close. I told the girls, “You know what? I’m just gonna stand right here and watch the show. But oh man, there are SO MANY PEOPLE IN MY VIEW!” We joke with them back and forth for about 15 minutes when some guy, he looked like he was in his late 40s, from inside runs up to them and says, “I need to put 2 people on my list.” Aaron and jokingly said, “Hey man, you should put us on your list.” I chimed in with, “Yeah, we drove all the way from Houston to see this one guy play!” Then he put one hand on my shoulder and pointed his thumb inside. “Let these boys in!” he tells the smokin’ hot girl working the entrance, despite the large black underage X’s on the backs of my hands. Aaron and I immediately burst into laughter because we can’t believe that it actually worked. I asked the guy if he was from Houston and he said, “No, but my WIFE is! AND MY BROTHER IN LAW!” Aaron and I were convinced that this guy was crazy so we both gave him a high-five and ran into the bar and find Chris Ryan. It wasn’t hard to do because there was only one other person in the bar and he was the bartender. Chris Ryan had a big grin on his face when we walked up to him.
Aaron and I sat at the bar and watched the Joe Strummer documentary they were playing. It was perfectly suitable because we were talking about the Clash the day before and were listening to Coma Girl when we were working the door at the Mink a few days prior. We watched the documentary for about 45 minutes when we had to go outside to see Chris Ryan’s performance. I ordered a Roy Rogers before I stepped outside and the bartender made me one for free. SCORE!
The Homopolice are known in Houston for being loud and naked and breaking shit. This rendition of Homopolice was missing 3 members. Their substitutes were three Walkmans plugged into three guitar pedals plugged into three small practice amps. For 15 minutes, Chris Ryan played droned out samples. He, Aaron, and I had to hold back our laughter because we couldn’t let anyone know that this was a joke. The best part was after his set, some guy with a giant beard asked him where he was playing next, some guy in a white t-shirt with something written in Sharpie on it asked him about playing a show with his band some time, and some guy in the parking lot told him how proud he was that “ambient music was still being played.” On the way out of the bar, I kissed the cute girl working the door. Overall, the show was the best thing to happen that night:
-We got into a showcase without paying and without having wristbands or badges.
-I’m not even 21.
-I got a free drink at the bar.
-We got to watch a movie we always wanted to see.
-I got to kiss a cute girl.
How often does that happen?
