Austin Fanzine Project

Picture: Filmstrip with two photos of Alfred

Alfred- the big black man- a great guy to talk to and a great cook, but an asshole to work with. If you could survive his shit through the kitchen window then you could survive the Hole. Then there's...

Picture: Filmstrip with three photos of Dotty

Dotty- Austin's only and original punk rock princess. She always rocks the house. She made the hole sparkle with performance in many different bands including the Punkaroos. And there was...

Spot- a very sweet fellow but a lousy bartender. He would get all sensitive if you tried to talk to him about his punk rock history (producing Descendents, Black Flag, Big Boys, Offenders, and Jeff Smith's Hickoids). He did not like to talk about it. He quit the Hole because they took away his bartending shift and being the sound guy at the Hole was more like a "privilege" than a job.

Picture: Filmstrip with three photos of Spot.

6 Geek Weekly Fanzine

Picture: several nude figures sitting on a picnic blanket with balloons.

Ok, the other two pictures are a simulated birthday party including some wacky regulars- customers made into models for my photographic fantasy world. They were just a few of the players in the drunk circus cast of the Hole

Picture: several nude figures sitting on a picnic blanket while one is on a rope swing.

So there you go- a view from inside the Hole. The Hole was a portal to the childlike timeless realm of Austin's rockin' unpretentious past, now disappearing into the yuppie mediocrity of big city blues. Salud to all the veterans of the Hole- I hope you are all drinking somewhere cozy out there in the Modern Austin. Thanks Hole for my 14 years of lushy rock n roll. I guess 29 years of rockin' is a good stretch for any little bar shack, but it played heavy on my little black heartstrings.

Call Tara Spies for all your photography needs cuz she rocks a lens" starryeyestara@yahoo.com

Spring 2003 7

* LIVE ACTION SHOWS * --->

The San Antonio scene is lookin' promisin'. I was last there for the Makers/Drags show at Tacoland on ___ November. I never would have known about the show if it wasn't for a telephone tip I had passed along to me, which is something that is quite a problem: there is very little publicity for SA shows here, and vice-versa. That Texas show list that was happening for a while was great, but I haven't seen one in a while (but that may very well be my fault- that I haven't seen one, that is).

Other than that, however, there are all those great bands down there that we all know about- the Sons, Big Drag, Dropouts... But the key is that there are actually some people down there, I think. I really hope they get somethin' goin' cause pretty soon, this town's gonna fill up and we're all gonna have to go into exile, so we might as well go ahead and try to prime our closest alternative now.

Anyway, the show was fun. The Makers were kinda mediocre, but I liked them much better than at their lame show in Austin. Great background music, but they just bore me live. The Drags are always great to see, though and friendly to boot.

During the break between the Drags and the Makers sets, Susan espied Heath of Satans fame meanderin' down the street next to Tacoland with a 40 or somethin'. Turns out, a group of fellow Austinites was hangin' out weighing their options (cover was kinda high), so we had a welcome break from the Tacoland crowd.

But the trip is always worth it- San Antonio is just far enough from Austin to make it feel like you've gotten away, but close enough that you know you can be in your own bed within two hours. And you just can't beat the feelin' of standin' in the street out behind the Pearl brewery and knowin' they make shitty beer, but it's cheap and you don't care.

Our friends from Columbia, Missouri arrived around 7 pm and we all headed down to Ellen's Soul Food for the best friend chicken I've ever had (besides my mommy's of course). Then, with out bellies so full we could hardly more, we headed down to Barrister's for the first night of the Dixie Fried Backalley Brawl. Amazingly, we ran into [Casey]] of Make Room fanzine fame, another proud Texan who had journeyed north to worship at the garage rock altar.

The entrance to Barrister's is on an alley, which makes it easy to take a between-band breather with beer in hand. Memphis seemed to have a lot of unenforced laws and the open-contained law was one of the, (Another curious Memphian alcohol law is that you can't sell a container of beer larger than 38 oz- that's right, folks... no 40s.)

Inside testosterone surged through the air. An ancient big-screen TV was showing clips from early 60s-ish sexploitation films. People were shooting pool, buying records from the merch table and drinking beer. The crowd was much livelier than the typical Austin crowd, and there were a lot more girls out!

The first band was the Hate Bombs, a classic 60s-style garage band who played more songs about girls than any other band I've ever seen. Everyone in the band sings lead except the bassist who, incidentally, bears a striking resemblance to a young Elvis. I thoroughly enjoyed this set. Next up was AMF (which stands for many things, including Adolescent Music Fantasy). Their drummer, Ross Johnson, who emceed the whole event (and who had played with Panther Burns, Gibson Brothers, Alex Chilton and Pink Slip Daddy) kept demanding that the proprietor "play more nekkid movies." AMF took it slow and easy (they were self-proclaimed "middle-aged, over-weight rock'n'rollers") and they played mostly covers, but there were fine choices like "Drunk Again," "Theme From A Summer Place," and "I Walked With the Zombies." '68 Comeback (or rather Jeff Evans + the Oblivians) was next. Not being familiar with Jeff's stuff, I didn't know what to expect, but I was very pleased with their set.

Then came the Oblivians. I'd only seen them once before (at that horribly ill-attended Thanksgiving-night show at Emo's) and I had almost forgotten how great their show are. I was speechless. Luckily we got some of it on tape, including most of "Motorcycle Leather Boy" as sung very

best stuff was out of the Kreature Comforts Lowlife Guide to Memphis which you must get if you go there. But the best part was when we were on the way home and Jeff said, "oh, let's go see one more thing." He wouldn't tell me where we were going, he just gave me directions. We ended up in a vacant lot in a bad part of town and, just as I was beginning to have second thoughts about the character of my "friend", Jeff looked around and whispered reverently, "This was Stax. "

Round two of the Dixie Friend Backalley Brawl: First were the Cowslingers. I liked them more than I thought I would. Fucked-up-truck-stop-country-rock-d-roll. The the Woggles and the Royal Pendletons, I'm not sure of the order. Somehow, any time the Woggles take the stage, I miss them. I've heard I'm not missing much, but I don't know. I also withhold judgement on the Royal Pendletons who definitely have some good songs and, as we discovered Monday morning at breakfast, are some of the funniest guys on the planet.

Anyway, Guitar Wolf was next and I watched most of their set, although it was the exact same show I'd seen in Austin a week earlier. Sure, it was a good set, but I was in Memphis and hangin' out in the alley, drinkin' a beer and shootin' the shit with some local folk was just way more appealing to me at the time. I don't regret the decision at all since I ended up having the closest thing to a conversation I've ever had with Grifters drummer/van pilot extraordinaire, Stan (and his super-cool wife).

The moment I had been waiting for arrived: Man...or Astroman? were up next. If you know me well enough (heh, heh) you know that I have a sick, misguided, obsessive drive to own every single M...oA? release. I think I may be finally coming to my senses regarding this disease, but there's just something awfully appealing to me about a band that repeatedly goes through entire interviews without admitting to being from this planet (it's that damned geek thing again). The set was a bit disappointing to me musically and they were playing one person short, but they were energetic and fearless even when the sampling apparatus went on the fritz and the bassist started reciting all the samples to compensate for the loss. The multimedia aspects were pleasing. IF the music wasn't holding your attention (or,more accurately, if you were trying to drown out the rambunctious asshole next to you who was trying to get the bassist to check out his silly hand made, "Look at my fucking shirt! It says