Austin Fanzine Project

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

Monday, 26 June 1995 (Susan's 19th birthday)

We went to breakfast with Eric Oblivian and most, if not all, or the Royal Pendletons at this cool anachronistic home cookin' place right next to some old railroad tracks. The Royal Pendletons had to sit at a separate table cause the tables weren't big enough for all of us, but they kept coming over to our table in shifts. They'd sit there for a while and talk and be funny, then they'd leave and another one would come over. After breakfast, Eric took us to the Wooden Indian Giftship across the street from Graceland so we could get stuff to bring back for all our friends who wanted Elvis shit. I was really low on cash at that point, so I only bought one souvenir, a gold bottle of "Love Me Tender Conditioning Rinse." I am not kidding. On the way back to our hotel, Eric told us a hilarious story about taking Guitar Wolf on a Graceland tour the previous year.

When we got back, we packed up the car and split town. We had decided to go to New Orleans for the night, then cruise home the next day. But we didn't make it that far. For reasons still unknown, the transmission decided to go out just north of Granada, Mississippi, between Memphis and Jackson. After a bunch of grief, the details of which I will spare you, we resigned ourselves to the fact that we would be spending the next three or four days in the Holiday Inn in fucking Grenada, Mississippi!

I think the penance for any roadtrip, fiasco, party, good time or disaster that leaves you with a good story to tell is that you have to tell the story thousands of times even if you're already sick of it or you just wanted to forget about it in the first place. That's why most of this story is about the fun we had in Memphis and not about the fun we didn't have in Grenada. But I'll tell ya what, everytime I see "Blind Willie's Johnson]] and they do "Mississippi Dirt," I think about all the mosquito bites I go in that fucking swamp of a state and when they got to that line at the end of the song, I'm ready to scream along, "Yeah, New York City's bad, but Mississippi's WORSE!" -Jennifer Geek

Cartoon caption: "The rebel yell that was heard throughout the world"

NEW YEAR'S EVE 1997

I ran away from Austin to Memphis on New Year's Eve so that I could salvage my shitty holidays. That means I missed the last New Bomb Turks show here, which I'm sad about, but I got to hear the Oblivians and the Royal Pendletons and a new-wave band play at the Young Avenue Deli. When I arrived in town, Scott met me at the Lamplighter all dressed up, so I was compelled to wear a formal gown (all right, I wore a long, slinky thing from work) and gloves. You know what I like about Memphis? Everyone else was dressed up, too. People are such slobs in Austin.

On this particular trip, Mike McCarthy was kind enough to show me his latest project, Shine On Sweet Starlet, a series of sixties-style clips where ingenues strip for the camera in the comfort of their own homes or favorite bars. The soundtrack should be out this April on Sympathy for the Record Industry, but I'm not sure when the flick itself will be completed. It's a great piece of work — modern naked ladies shot on Super 8 to look like vintage naked ladies. Mike will be shooting his next project this summer — ladies, send GW your headshots [buttshots —ed.] and they'll be passed on.

Dan Ball took some pictures of me while I was there, which I might get to see this year. He's the guy that took all those swirly, arty pictures of the Grifters, the Oblivians and the Clears. I got to crawl around on his piano and couch in a bunch of lingerie, then sit really still for those long exposures. I hope for next year's Christmas card to be one of these photos.

So I figure 1998 will turn out all right since I started it in Memphis. I'll let you know if that helped or not.