Austin Fanzine Project

entertainingly by the guy from Guitar Wolf. These guys fucking shred!!

[The Royal Pendletons]] were next, but it was already 3:30 am and we were all crashin'. So we split.

Saturday, 24 June 1995.

Susan and I went to Brother Juniper's again for breakfast, leaving the boys happily asleep. When we came back to see if the guys had taken all our stuff and split town, we were informed that we would have to change motels again, because all the rooms were reserved for the night. We relocated to the Admiral Benbow Inn which is the scummiest motel in the world . It was clean and all, but there were all sorts of fucked-up people wandering around the whole time and the trashcans were from Holiday Inn and the soap was from Hampton Inn and the "Do Not Disturb" signs were from Best Western. According to Eric Oblivian The Admiral is Guitar Wolf's preferred motel choice. Sure enough, they were staying right down the hall from us.

This was the day I wanted to go out and sight-see. Jeff and I left Susan and Matt at the Inn and set off to see the town. I had planned out a path and we attacked it with vigor. We went to Beale Street to check out the tourist/museum/gift ship aspect. Some of it was kinda cool, but the

The Oblivians rock out in the Bluff City

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"

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