Seattle Subsonic

Austin City Limits Or Bust

October 3rd, 2008

In case you were inadvertently left off my travel plans, I journeyed down to Texas for the renowned three-day Austin City Limits Festival this past weekend. I had never been to Texas for any length of time longer than a Dallas/Ft. Worth layover (mostly by choice, but also a bit by chance). Texas is all well and good, I suppose, but let’s you and me be honest: the rain-soaked liberals of the PacNW don’t exactly jive with the bold and beautiful conservatism of the Lone Star state. Of course, Austin has a wide reputation of being the state’s creative and eclectic counterweight to its overbearing “God, guns, and family” mantra. As I found out, the city’s reputation holds pretty true.

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Not only is Austin an oasis in the Texan desert, but it’s also touted as the live music capital of the world. THE WORLD, PEOPLE. I uncovered that to simply mean there is some sort of country-blues-rock playing just about everywhere—bars, restaurants, clubs, coffee shops, airports. That you always have a live music option in Austin is great, and makes for a vibrant town, but (biased opinion coming) I think Seattle has a leg up on overall sonic diversity. Obviously, I was only there for a long weekend, but our town’s plentiful mix of rock, hip-hop, electronica, and musical miscellany is truly unique.

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As far as we could tell, there are three main entertainment boroughs in Austin: 6th Street, Red River Street, and South Congress Avenue (SoCo to the hip and local). 6th Street is like the U-District’s Ave by day and Bourbon St. by night; Red River has scattered clubs, the most notable being Stubbs and Emo’s; and SoCo is a bit more like Fremont—boutiques, quirky shops and hotels, trendy restaurants, and a few cool bars. This is where we ended up Friday night at the Continental Club to see Ruby Dee and the Snakehandlers (from Seattle!) and Austin funksters Greyhounds.

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Ruby Dee was a bubbly, tattooed songstress growlin’, sassin’ and dancin’ her way through Jorge Harada’s alt-country, rockabilly twang. I think she freakin’ even did the splits. The rhythm section wasn’t too shabby either, and I thoroughly enjoyed their set. I suppose it could’ve been the dollar shots (which, we noticed, was a common promotion in Austin), but it was most likely the vibrant, swingin’ country honky-tonk coming through their tunes that put the swagger in our step. I’d wager Don Slack’s played them on Swingin’ Doors at least a few times. Lucky for us, they’ll be making their way back through Seattle at the end of the month with a show at the West Seattle Easy Street on 10/24 and another slot at Conor Byrnes on 11/21; presumably with their branded “unmentionables” for sale. Get ‘em while they hot!

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Greyhounds, on the other hand, were a three-piece, jazz-rock-soul fusion that initially blew us away with some impressive ivory-ticklin’, a zippy blues guitar, and ramshackle drum tactics. Dual pianist Andrew Trube sounded like the great Ray Charles and fancied his organ with flying, fluttering fingers. Unfortunately, their signature sound morphed into something too repetitive by the end of the set and we drunkenly staggered out the door, looking for the next adventure. Which would be this insanity.

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Stay tuned, this journal to be continued…