Two weeks ago, every third email I received at work (aside from my freelancers wondering where the fuck their money is--up my ass, bitches!--and offers to "look rich now get rich later fake rolex watches" from Alexis Cash at firstname.lastname@example.org) began thusly: "I'm sure you're at South by Southwest right now, but when you get back, there's a fabulous band I want to tell you about . . . " I did not, in fact, go to Austin this year, continuing a tradition 29 years strong: the only place in Texas I've ever spent any appreciable amount of time is Denton, for roughly 36 hours, and even there I spent the entire time in my friend Ashley's apartment. (Thanks again, Ashley!) From most accounts, Austin is a lovely city, and I have no doubt it is, but I'm not especially keen to find that out along with what seems like every other one of my peers, because as much as I love me some rock and/or roll and/or schmoozing with people I'm already friends with, I have a strong feeling I'd end up just screaming, "Hey, Punksnotdead! Yo, Punksnotdead! Where's the barbecue at?!" at indie-lifers with expense accounts till I was hoarse for four days straight. And, of course, eating pizza, snicker snicker. Anyway, the main reason I didn't go this year was because the Weekly wasn't able to expense more than one at a time, and I figured Andrew Bonazelli would get more out of it than I would--and especially when he decided to follow the Lashes around for the festivities, he did, very entertainingly. Just as entertaining are Jessica Hopper's reminscences, which capture pretty much exactly what I imagine I'd have felt like under similar circs. (Then again, I don't have a PR company that throws parties, so what the fuck do I know?) Chris Herrington is a lot more upbeat about it all, though I must say that if he thinks seeing the Hold Steady at SXSW was something to tell the grandkids, that must mean watching every NYC gig from the second to the seventh--and seeing/hearing them get better and better and better w/each one--is something to put in my memoirs, which I guess I just did.
I used to sell hologram bolo ties at the Mall of America