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[Photo: man in dress, holding glass and bottle]
What kind of man reads Geek Weekly? He's a hard workin' man, but at the end of the day he loves to fix himself a drink, slip into a flirty little chemise and curl up with a copy of his fave rag. He spends $14.5 million a month on flirty chemises.
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Mi gato frito no tiene mas de dos dientes
Oblivians 10.25.97 Emo's
Every time the Oblivians roll into Austin, they seem to pull out all the stops to impress the sophisticated audience. With a crowd of such eeducated, discriminating listeners such as Scott Gardner, Craig Koon, Bob Coleman and members of Big Foot Chester and the Motards (RIP) on hand, not to mention the Iron Fist of GW itself, who wouldn't aim to impress? A need to show off for our fair city has produced some fine shows at Emo's, rarely equaled in the Oblivians' hometown of Memphis. This October the Oblivians unveiled, for the first time, their brave new direction. Austin was the first town to hear their merging of electronica and garage rock, an amazing innovation we didn't even know we needed, like Butterfingers, until someone invented it. Before this shocking new sound hit our ears, most folks were mumbling about the absence of Mr. Quintron from the tour or the fact that the clocks would be rolling back at 2 am due to the end of Daylight Savings Time, giving us an extra hour in which to drink and socialize. When Mr. Oblivian, Mr. Oblivian, and Mr. Oblivian took the stage, they immediately began a run-through of their greatest hits, numbers like "She's a hole," "I Ain't No Sicko, There's a Plate in My Head," and "Blew My Cool." Such performances make us here at GW wish to use vast hyperbole in describing the Oblivians as "The only rock'n'roll band in America" or "An outlet for Greg Cartwright's demented adolescent fantasies." Let it be sufficient to say that like all great garage bands, they have the quality of an orchestra forced to perform a symphony on pots and pans. The most truly amazing aspect of the group is that they've sustained and fulfilled their vision from day one, through the perils of fame and rumored breakups, scandals and paternity suits, frenzied feedings by the fanzine press and record label bidding wars. It's no wonder they should be innovators in their genre, shocking listeners like they did at this show. Well into their set, we began to notice the presence of a fourth Oblivian, if you will, on stage. It seems that while thrift shopping, the boys picked up a vintage drum machine. As Oblivians fans know, each member of the trio has his turn
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on the drums during a set. I believe it was Mr. Greg Oblivian's time when the machine fot switched on, leading to Mr. Eric Oblivian's departure from the stage. Mr. Jack Oblivian had been performing a song when Mr. Greg Oblivian began an impromptu hymn to the virtues of the drum machine. "Ladies and gennleman, I just wanna tell ya, this drum machine . . . my favorite thing about this drum machine . . . is that . . . as I'm sure you all agree . . . the best thing . . . is that . . . you don't gotta play 'em yourself. Ya just TURN 'EM ON!" Mr. Jack Oblivian said, "Hey, waittaminnit, Greg Oblivian, this is my song!" Mr. Greg Oblivian had, by then, completely derailed the rock'n'roll show and Mr. Jack Oblivian's guitar rapidly became another noisy element of this weird techno-garage stew. He soon fled for the comfort of the dressing room, guitar in hand, to make noise from its confines. Mr. Greg Oblivian continued to harangue the crowd from onstage. "Ladies and gennelmen, I don't blame my parents for the way I turned out, I blame s'ciety!" He eventually followed his bandmates into the dressing room, mike in hand, to finish his "song." It's worth mentioning that at this point some 80% of the crowd had left, leaving only an amazed and baffled minority. Finally, Jack quit hitting random chords on the guitar and somebody must have distracted Greg from the mike, for all that he could be head was the tinny thump of that five-dollar drum machine. Hands down, the Geek Weekly show of the year for 1997.
Grifters 10.30.97 Fitzgerald's (Houston) and 10.31.97 Electric Lounge
Over the years I've emphasized the crappiness of the Grifters' Austin shows compared to those they've played in Houston. Jennifer and I experienced a near perfect pair of shows in Houston a couple of years ago, one at Goat's Head Soup and another at the Urban Art Bar with the Strapping Fieldhands, and on both tours the Austin shows haven't come near to their Houston counterparts. I have no idea what in the hell causes this. The Grifters are much loved in Austin and they even have a groupie home base of sorts here. A ton of people go out to see them when they play. In Houston this past October, there were about fifty warm bodies in the whole damn bar. Margaret and I felt like we had our own personal Grifters show all to ourselves! Hey, maybe that's what I like about those Houstonshows — but really, this one was truly fine. Full Blown Possession is much more to my liking than Ain't My
