Waterloo Records First Listen/ Shakey Graves

Of my recent musical experiences, one was free. I went to my first in-store performance at the new Waterloo Records, planning and taking time off of work to get the chance to hear some of the songs on the new album Fondness, Etc. As social media becomes a dumpster fire, growing bigger by feeding off the never ending fuel source that is our mental instability, it can be hard to remember that good things can come from it. Like free shows! But now that I have a reminder, I find myself filled with the compulsive need to refresh the pages for my favorite spots worrying about missing out.

Whatever, this is supposed to be about a success story, not the ups and downs of mania.

Anxious that I wouldn’t be able to find a parking spot meant that I was on time. Sooo, I ended up chilling in the cafe part of the record store and then chilling in front of the stage for a bit before the set started. I was smart enough to bring a book (The Hole, a piece of weird translated fiction that felt so at home in my physical setting, even if it is about a Japanese woman losing her sense of self within her marriage and the expectations of an idyllic country side life. It was a great contrast and reminder that at least I stayed in the city and did not find myself in a hole in a ground, stuck in a situation of my own impassive making, and as if that is anything different from the life I ended up choosing) and due to its length I was able to knock it out. I found parking, a free show, and had time to read; SUCCESS!

His performance wasn’t bad either. It was a nice contrast to the production at the first show I saw of his. Shakey Graves Day at Mohawk was all about working the sound set up and iconic stage, it included accompanying performing musicians and tv screens with visuals that matched to the songs. Since this was a performance given a day before the release of the record, and was part of a KUTX hosted interview here in town, this was more like a workshop session. You can see in his performance that he was applying the work and theory on how these songs will come together on stage and join his growing catalog. 

Starting off with the interview, he explains a bit of the sound and how he focused on using tape machines to give the vintage feel that he was looking for. Since he is not the only one into it this sound right now, he mentions that the price for a Tascam tape machine may be inflated because they are “pieces of shit,” but with a laughter implying an affection and that they are lovable “pieces of shit” that are worth the price, hassle, and popularity. He shared a personal story about how his grandmother gifted him one when he was younger, and confessed in the follow-up question that first was no longer around and not part of the record (which may have started the whole “pieces of shit” tangent). 

His interview was entertaining for the personal stories that he shared and for including a ghost story. He talked about the history he has around one of the guitars he used for the record, how it was gifted to him with a spirit and ghosts all of its own. There was a journey to repair and now that he has it in playable condition, the road led him to being able to use it on this record. The personals in this story and others shows an openness when discussing how fatherhood has changed him and how in the past he did not pass on the chance of getting fucked up. And with his mom in the audience! Margot Tenenbaum he is not.

He then played a set of about fives songs. Most of which were from the record and filled in with the stories that he will be telling on tour. 

At Waterloo the stage is to the back where there is a fur wall with different color fabric panels in the color scheme of the logo. I bring this up because that fucking wall was killing me with how the panels are not evenly broken up with the blues and whites. If I didn’t have a book, I think staring at the lack of symmetry would have broken my mind beyond repair. 

The stage is platform that is not far off the ground and because of the space, it is intimate. I was three rows back, in a place that probably has five rows if it is a packed set. There were still some tall people in front me, but not all the time so I ended up making uncomfy eye contact with him when he was performing. I am sure the others were digging it, but I was like ewwwww. I hate to be reminded that I am a spectator in a weird social construct with a complete stranger. We are fucking weird primates. 

In spirit of the record it was just him his guitar, kick drum, and a looping machine. He started off with “Time Flies” talking of his family and how this is a cover and written by one of his friends, the musician Franklin Russell Hoier. His third song was “The Boilermaker” and during the performance I could see the concentration and finger work, showing that he is pushing himself. I think most of his fans love the songs of course for its lyrical content, but also because of his skills as a guitar player. He can play with an edge, but even that is one that has an appeal across generations and genres. That is because he can make it twang, for those from the south the listener must concede that the sounds that they are hearing are not unfamiliar in two steppin country.

The last song of the record, was the last song from the record that he played. “No Place to Be” had a story that showed his work and patience. He said that it was his mother’s insistence that he kept it and rolled out those bones to give it structure before renaming and cleaning it up. The last song of the set was a hit from a previous record, “Roll the Bones.” See why I went with the cheesy phrasing that I did? This song is tried and true at this point, so it was a solid performance. His crowd was made up of a group of happy fans, stoked to get his new record the day before, and to get it signed on top of that, so they loved it. 

Don’t get me wrong, so do I. I stayed for the whole set even! I did, however take off as soon as he headed over to start the signing process because my social battery was depleted. I had just enough energy to pick up the used Fatboy Slim record I found and head home to torture my husband with it. As much as I like the music of Shakey Graves, when I like to dance I like it to be awkward and skanky and full of the bass.

Cobrah at Radio/East

Oh shit, here I am posting about the Rebel Ragers Tour like I didn’t shake my tits at Cobrah just weeks after lamenting about how I felt so alone at the Peaches show.

This performance was her first time in our city and was part of the Torn tour for her debut album by the same name. As my friend and I joked when I mentioned that I was catching the Peaches and Cobrah shows this year, this is part of my maiden mother crone worship that will be completed if I can snag a Madonna one before the year is out. Otherwise I think we will be stuck in this sexually regressed timeline, I am sorry for my failures if I don’t cum (bad sexual pun intended) through.

Let us start with one my biggest anxieties about leaving the house: the drive and struggle to find parking. My husband had been to this venue once before, so I avalanched him with questions he could not answer because he is a straight man who does not have my level of anxiety in all the same things. He made it seem like I could get parking near the site, but I couldn’t because this show was sold out and I took my sweet time getting there.

Driving wise it is in what I think of as the warehouse corporate district, my old job Progressive is in the area along with other sprawling office buildings with dedicated parking lots that may be tow happy, so down the street forced to parallel park did I go.

This is a coffee spot with food trucks and trees and seating for their daytime business, that can then convert to a popping night spot with an outdoor stage that will not piss off the neighbors (cause they are keeping office hours). While brilliant, it would be harder to get here if you are depending on the inconsistent public transportation that we have in Austin.

Another thing I want to mention is that it is a beautiful and open location, but the main area that will be used as the stage and dance floor is gravel and reminiscent of an unfinished Texas backyard - meaning that it is not heel friendly. Get sturdy shoes and maybe look into the terrain if you have mobility concerns.

Moving onto the next thing that shakes my nerves, how was it being at a sold out show solo?

This was a happening crowd that represented the Austin queer community, much like Peaches it was very compressed and packed in close to the stage. I was able to secure a good side spot near a couple of guys who were outgoing and drunk enough that they had to chat it up with those around them, my awkward self included. I am half deaf from youthful bad decisions, and with the earplugs I wear at concerts now I could only hear every other thing but their kindness and looking out for those around them made a difference. When I popped a squat because my old knees could not carry my stick legs anymore, one of them dropped down ready to sober me up or pull me out of a heat stroke. I had to make my apologies if I scared them, but fucking good on them for being aware of the messes around them.

Before we talk about her outfits, the clothing and kindness from the crowd was skanky and pure. This was a show that dressed to impress.

I did worry about Cobrah though with the lighting and Texas heat, she was wearing flesh toned lingerie with a mesh long sleeve body suit. It had to be stifling being overtly sexy while sweating your tits off, or at least that is what I think whenever it is still nineties degrees at night and I am wearing a tiny little outfit that is sliding off my body with my sweat.

Her set design was sleek and at times appears to be a bedroom on a pedestal. Like Peaches, she was accompanied by two dancers, these being brunette ladies that were also in their chonies that showed off how cut their bodies were as they rolled in timed to the beats. It would seem that she was "singing” more to a track than other performers I have seen, but this is a show that is more about the production. It has the pulsating lights and the pounding bass, I imagine it is hard to hit the moans or words with the same breathy tone as she incorporates hairography that may result in an occupational injury.

Much like the venue, there is a trade off when it comes to aesthetics. These things are not the worst downsides to encounter, just things that need to be considered.

Overall the show was amazing, one in which she was able to play most of her works because her songs are short and her catalog right now consists of EPs and this album. So of course I wanted more, which I think is was she wants and needs from her audience.

“Dog” has been on repeat since, and is the perfect compliment to my movie of the summer, Pillion.

Rebel Ragers Tour

I will disappoint you (or uphold the viewpoint you have that I am a vapid consumerist with no morals) with this one. You see my complaints about the Big Boi, M.I.A, and Kid Cudi show at the Germania Insurance Amphitheater won’t be about how M.I.A. started the disaster off with a (bamboo)bang(er), but how much I fucking hate the place.

It is massive and has been renamed. I believe the first time I was there, I was still able to snag affordable seats to see Elvis Costello with then coworkers, and it was still called the Circuit of the Americas. Since then I have been so frugal as to regulate myself to the general lawn for multi touring acts like Incubus and the Deftones. 

So far my most memorable and enjoyable time was when I was able to see Death Cab for Cutie with friends. The tickets were free and the nostalgia was being aided by my first heavy go of drinking post baby.  

“So I should have known better,” is then best way to sum up this show. 

I should have known better how crappy it would be to park, get to the gates, have a bag that passes the arbitrary policies. I should have known better that the view and experience is crap, that I would be spending a lot of money on public high school cafeteria quality food and festival level merchandise. I should have know better that it would start on time and that if I was late, I would be missing what I paid for since I was more into the opening acts then the headliner. 

Oh and I definitely knew better when it came to the antics M.I.A. would pull.

When I first bought the tickets for my husband and I, I reasoned it out with the idea that I would like all the music that would be playing. I would probably be asking my husband to stay out longer since I was the one that was more of a fan of all three artists.

The night of, I was the one ready to book it. We had a wet and unusually cool spring and summer, so the temperature was dipping and the walk and first part of the show was in the rain. I am always a bit late now of days, so by the time we got on the shuttle and through the front gates we can tell Big Boi was into his set.

Fuck.

He played a free show on campus in the last year that we both missed for legit reasons (work and we felt it would have been packed with the college youths). So this was a big pull for us to only get to see half of his songs. This would carry on for each artist.  

What we did see was full of energy, he gave a standard rap performance with a DJ booth set up and another rapper to help back him up. He played a medley of his music, but it seemed most of it was the songs that he is known for in Outkast. Because we fucked up in missing his set, yes I would watch him again if given the chance.

Now remember how we missed most of M.I.A’s set as well? It was because I was hungry for the shit food and I needed to waste my money. 

The Big Boi shirts were too expensive, but I knew I wanted something from my crazy girl M.I.A. Before the show we talked about how if she would be selling her anti-vac conspiracy wear and yes there was crumpled up tin foil looking bags that were so overpriced that it restored my faith that humanity will continue to grift no matter what the science says. I picked up one of her long sleeve shirts with a crazy pattern, excited to cosplay at the expense of my pocket book and at the expense of a woman with, I am sure, a complicated mental health state given the things she has said. And because it was chilly, I spent most of her set in the bathrooms behind the stage taking a piss and then layering that shit up.

We made it to the lawn to see her bring people on stage, hear a comment meant to bait the audience, and then get cut off mid “Paper Planes” for bringing all those people on stage. The crowd watched in silence as people twerked to what seemed like nothing, leaving them to build the theories that would start to pop up on Reddit. 

While waiting in line before all of this though, two things happened. My cousins spotted me, that was the only legit cool bit: that they were there as well. I was my awkward self and ran off before we could selfie. 

The other and actual pertinent thing was I did hear a female couple in the crowd call her MAGA with disgust, but for the most part just like Regina Spektor I would say the crowd was complicit, or more than likely (which is worst) they just did not give a fuck.

Then Kid Cudi came on and we listened to it for a bit before I was able to convince my husband I was done and I wanted to start the trek back home before everyone else. I would say he has passion for his music, but he is not the most talented singer or performer. Personally, his lyrics or beats just do not hit the same way that Big Boi or M.I.A. does. Still solid, but more of an at home album experience than live one for me. Which, is another “I should have known better” thing because duh I have listened to his albums.

While I am a sell out, let me just say that as much as I am trying to be woke I am also aware that I like music and art and movies and tv and jokes and books from people who are a range of dumb fucks to outright monsters. 

I like M.I.A., but way before this concert I was made aware that she was saying some questionable things about American politics and health policies that made me take a step back from respecting her as much as I once did. What she had to say in the past about borders and the immigrant experience was something that I was not hearing in the music I was listening to at the time, but what she is saying now just makes me side eye her and do a southern, “bless her heart,” cause it is dumb and I am sure tied up to things and experiences in her life that I cannot understand. I am not going to stop liking her music, I just have to like it ironically (90s Alanis Morissette style). 

It also consoles me that she is not an American voter, so while her poor opinions have an impact I wager it is less than Stevie Nicks. Who admitted in her show that she didn’t start voting until the last election and the apathy that rich (American) people express in that situation is more soul crushing than M.I.A.’s comments. 

And yeah Kid Cudi and everyone else in the audience should have known better too. 

Going Solo to see Peaches

Seeing Peaches perform is like a bucket list show for me, so much so I made sure to get her ticket the second the presale option was available. After reflecting on the set, I am still glad I went. However, it was a mistake to go by myself. This is a show to be seen with the group that sees you for the freak that you are.

Enough of regrets, but what of the set?

This was my first time at Central Machine Works, parking is nonexistent on this part of town so find a neighborhood street and prepare to walk into traffic. I missed the opening act trying to find the place and then a spot. Which sucks because they sounded amazing. I ate up a good hour walking, heading to the merch booth, waiting in the lines for the bathroom, and then waiting in line for a drink. I did not eat however, which may have been a missed opportunity since this is a beer venue with food. They also sell liquor for those like myself who can’t stand the taste of beer or wine. Shout out to the bartender who was able to make a tasty vodka drink for this picky person knowing nothing of my personality and with the items that she had available.

This was a packed show, you had to get tickets in advance which is part of the reason I was alone. As an adult some of my friends have to make a choice between medical bills and enjoyment because life sucks like that now. My quick moment to advocate for both universal health care and free show vouchers given out by the government as mental health aides, let us live a healthy and enjoyable life.

Peaches is the closest that I have come to seeing performance art in person. Yes she played the hits that I wanted to hear like “Operate” and an encore set that included “Fuck the Pain Away,” but she did these things while walking on the crowd’s hands or in pasties that had nipple hair so long it dropped to her crotch.

She made use of monstrous set pieces that brought to life the nightmares of our conservative leaders. Larger than life genitalia, in designer suits no less! Did John Waters come up with her set design, or just approve it? It was like nothing I have ever seen and left me booth skeeved out and keyed up. Can you image what it would have been like on psychedelics? If so, describe it so us straight edged adults can trip through you.

Now it wasn’t just a one woman show, her dancers were buff and beautiful Adonises that could stomach roll in unison in the most hypnotizing way. A magic act that hid the hip thrust that exposed comically large dicks that waved around in rhythm. Bopping like a lure on an angler fish from the deep.

I applaud her ability to use her music to protest the state of things for so long, for being so open to consenting kink and queerness, she has built a community that I am rediscovering as I moved from skank to mother skunk. I just like my idols to be from afar, especially when I am by myself. Her movement into the crowd confused me as I didn’t see us all drop to our knees to plead our lack of worthiness, we have not right to be part of this other then to perceive it.

If my friends were there, maybe I would have been more in awe and less in fear. Maybe I would have danced harder, drank more, become the mess that is always rolling underneath my skin. Instead I wished that you were there to enjoy it with me, this miserable life that is sprinkled with moments of escapes in the vices we keep. Fucking the pain away only works if there is a glint of knowing in the eye that you catch.

Peaches if for lovers, I mean she doesn’t ever really talk about masturbation unless it is mutual. You shouldn’t be dancing by yourself, but with others. So go, but go surrounded in love.

Last thing, I made a joke about her merchandise including a branded strap-on only to find that she was selling 30 dollar lubricant. Love the marketing, but god damn at that price. In this economy, as I jealousy watched everyone wearing their 100 dollar crop top mesh jersey that I couldn’t bring myself to buy. Could you imagine what the strap on harness would have been priced at?!

Deadly Prey Gallery Presents/ Alien, Evil Dead 2, Heat, Mask, and The Sopranos

What if my husband and I did things outside the one date a month I have started to schedule for us? What if we did things as they came up?

Then I would have more shit to write about on this damn blog!

My first time at the Museum of Human Achievement was to spend money on prints from the Deadly Prey Gallery. All credit around knowing that this event was going down goes to my husband, like most things that I end up going to - he told me about it. While he does not have a TikTok he still makes use of Facebook and Instagram like the hipster old man that he is, and I really need to appreciate him for that.

Every time we take the route from our house to the east side, it is like a drive back in time as we pass house after house that we were pushed out of due to lack of space for our family and lack of funds. Like damn, it would have been nice to have been able to walk to Medici coffee and whatever those bougie shops are, when we lived in the neighborhood it was just a used tire shop and rental dance hall. But also, fuck is it something to see your white side gentrify the minority (latinx) spaces and not get to benefit from your colonizing genes, I have a blue eyed baby let me (w)in!

And so the cycle continues.

Like the consumerists/wannabe capitalists that we are, we bought tickets for the chance to buy prints from this Chicago based gallery that showcases movie posters prints made in Ghana. Our understanding is that the proceeds go to a group of Ghanaians who create bizarre hand painted movie posters.

Based on a tradition from the 80s and 90s when the cinematic infrastructure of the country was based around mobile VHS screenings, the way to advertise the services was to get local artists to draw posters that were hung on the outside of small trucks. The trucks were then driven around as a way to let the locals know what movies were available.

The art is a folk reinterpretation or reimagining of classic film posters, as some of the artists knew little more about their commissions other than some basic details. As you look through the images you will see different artists take on what they thought Alien was about: one artist giving all the xenomoprhs guns and another realizing the horror was all in the concept of face huggers. Each poster leaves you wondering, what gave them the impression that it was going to be about that?

The group represented all seem to be male, and the images reflect stereotypes around that gender with hyper masculine imagery: so much gore, many beheadings, every movie is an action or horror flick, actors unrelated to the film are added in, and there is unnecessary nudity (unnecessary to the plot but not to the art). When there are dicks, they are aggressive and menacingly hard. Breasts are full and high, but there is no softness to their use. And death is everywhere.

As this is my first known exposure to artists from the region, I am not aware of the prevalent symbolism in their art but the skeletons are in a style that is recognizable and appealing to me. They have the same angular whiteness and disproportionate shape that recall the skeletons seen in Frida Kahlo’s or Diego Rivera’s work. The gore in some of the images reminds me of the ribbons and dissections seen in Kahlo’s pieces. It is unsettling, but so beyond surreal that it becomes absurd.

Which is why they are still being produced to this day through this gallery.

One or two of the older artists have passed, but the proceeds are said to go to their families. And I hope it does, this is the type of art that is ideal for patronage. Give the masses what we want and allow the paintings to live and produce beyond their lifespan.

The small space that it was in was at capacity with so many lining up behind us to get a chance to buy. As the last stop of the tour, this was a (five to members of the Austin Film Society I believe) four hour time slot where you could buy in person from the gallery instead of the website. And people were buying. Even as we snatched up what we wanted for ourselves and our boys, I was overwhelmed by others doing the same. It was a claustrophobic frenzy.

But hey at least I blew my money on the things, right? We didn’t get everything we wanted, if we did I would be broke. But what we did get, I am excited for. I can’t wait to posses it, mount it, stare at it in silence, ignore it, take if for granted, let it catch my eye at the right moment and remind me of the night and how before this we had rewatched Basquiat and after this we walked to pick up dinner holding hands and talked about art and talked about stupid things and talked about nothing and slept the day off and woke up to a new one.

Shakey Graves Day 2026

Okay but what if I complain about how this show was not hardcore enough? If seeing Shame at the beginning of the year was a reminder that I am old and not comfortable rocking out with the young fans, then Shakey Graves Day is yet another sign that as I approach my forties I am still clinging onto the Goldilocks mentality. Same conclusion, just a different set up that gets us there.

I like his music, and just like any show that I am leading up to I make it a point to listen to the artist’s discography so I do not come off as a poser. This was my first attempt to see this local but loved musician. I just assumed the sudden pop up date at Mohawk’s was because the artist needed the cash (cause they are starving and all for the craft) but it turns out that in 2012 Austin declared a day in his honor and he takes that as a chance to give back to the community. So this, and his previous shows on the anniversary of that declaration, is just the historical context as to why I look like an ass by jumping to those conclusions.

This year was to benefit HAAM (Health Alliance for Austin Musicians) an important organization that stepped up as a safety net during the pandemic. Although most would like (and I am including myself in this) to imagine Covid as thing of the past in this shitty time line, we all should also acknowledge that it is more important then ever to make sure that all within our community are insured and have the means to use their insurance to take care of their health.

Venue was solid, the weather was better, and the reason for the show is commendable. So what could I even bitch about?

It was sold out and the crowd matched the tone of the music. Rich country roots with a modern sense of urban awareness, the crowd was one that you could imagine is awaiting the second coming of Ann Richards to save this state from its stereotypical conservative ways. They believe in this and other socially aware causes, they can also identify with the lyrical content of Shakey Graves. But more importantly the crowd seemed to match where he may be in life, growing up while his daughter grows up, settling down to give the family thing a try, and sobering up as best as you can given your past and what will be needed of you in the future.

Ugh, isn’t it boring to be reminded that time changes and music takes on new meaning as you move from young adulthood, to adulthood, to old adulthood.

He played a mixture from all his albums, with a hint to new things. His set started out solo, but as he played other songs he called up musicians that would be needed to hambone or blow into a harmonica as an accompaniment. It shows that as a musician he may be writing his songs to what his abilities are, but that his abilities may be varied as he thinks about what else is needed to flesh out the song that he is creating. A guitar here, a kick drum there, and working with others to teach them how you play it - it shows more skill than what may be needed now in the age of AI.

My impression of his music has always been that the stories follow three line of thoughts “I am womanizer looking for the one to save me from myself,” “I booze too hard,” and “they only want you when you are 17 (when you are 21 you’re no fun).” And maybe that isn’t incorrect, since he does tell little tales in between songs to encourage a connection with the audience to a meaning. “Chinatown” is about a friend’s dream apartment that allowed him to crash and dirtbag around while finding himself. Another song is about a girl helping him to settle down, but has new meaning now that he has a two year old daughter (with a cliche realization that one day horn dogs will pull some tired tricks on her).

He talks and flirts with the audience, making them feel that they are in an Austin more idealistic than it really is. You were a rascal, but now you are cool family man (or woman). You have a love worth fucking and swaying with. Cool grown up things of happiness and content.

I hated how loved he is, with so many people there to experience that. They may be able to lose themselves in the crowd but all I could think was, “this is what I get for like a popular artist.” Long lines and being forced to touch elbows with happy couples. Barf, but also good for him for being so appealing and talented. May definitely see again, but here is to hoping no one else shows.

My First Show of the Year: Shame at Mohawks

My first show of the year was a Sophie’s Choice of sorts (I love that book, so yes I know what I am doing with my flippancy). I purchased a ticket to Shame at Mohawk’s months ago. I love Resound for the type of shows they have been booking and the price points, but the fear of not getting a ticket in time means I purchase as soon as I see a show is in town. So it was devastating, DEVASTATING, to realize that Meredith Marks was Paris Hiltoning at Empire Control Room the same night.

With a couple of rumor posts on the Austin subreddit about how shitty the owner is for Empire Control Room, the knowledge I already spent money on the Shame show, and the knowledge that Meredith Marks may be the less talented musician of the two groups…I stuck with my plan to see Shame.

And maybe this post is more about how I let fate continue on its way with me.

After starting our year with a real winter, the city was shut down for a week because Ted Cruz boarded a plan to Cali and we have collective PTSD from almost five years ago. By the time Shame was to play, it was a week later and no longer freezing shut down cold, it was just titsicle cold (as opposed to the weather standard for Texas: hot as balls). There was a couple of reminder emails to say the show was being pushed ahead an hour since there is no way that the native Texans and Austinites had adequate clothing. Facts, we all came out with cute hats thinking it was doing something, and it did not.

Which fine, it means that there would be less people out downtown because of the cold (even though it was a Saturday) and I was able to snag the convenient street parking to the side of the venue. I made it just in time to realize that the opener (who I incorrectly named as Wolf Mother, then Ghost Mother, before landing on their correct name GhostWoman cause my brain is old and scrambled from motherhood) did not suck. GhostWoman is the type of alternative rock that I could dig. I could not discern the lyrics, but I also couldn’t help but be into the droning guitar and heavy drums from the two person band.

I thought I would be able to stay warm and bop my way through both sets towards the back of the downstairs pit, securing a spot that allowed my short ass to see the opening act. That delusion started to dissipate after GhostWoman stopped playing and the dude groups started to move in. Taller bodies everywhere appeared out of nowhere and I could hear in clear detail one friend group discuss how they had “four layers of shirts, 3 layers of socks, and enough drugs to stay warm” which transitioned to how MEREDITH MARKS was playing. Proof that many were sadden to not be doing caviar bumps and dancing indoors in their cute fashions.

Would I have been more understanding of the crowd there?

Shame comes on and it seems they had some sound issues to start. But the mens in the crowd did not care or notice, they were true fans of the band and physical contact ensued as they started to thrash forcing the crowd to surge back.

I booked it. I adore dancing, but Robyn style on my own. Do. Not. Touch. Me. I have a personal bubble and it extends several feet to all sides of me, you get in that space and I will tense up like the little roly poly that I am. This tends to work out because people (especially in Austin) do not dance. It has also been at least ten years that I went to a hardcore or punk show by myself so I forgot that goes out the window when young men feel the urge to fuck shit up when listening to music.

Taking to the upper decks, I could people watch and enjoy the band without fear of human contact. The singer lost his shirt, but not his sun glasses, as he belted out the lyrics to a mixture of different hits from their four albums. There was some chatter between songs while one guitarist would get a new instrument handed off to him by the crew. Aside from the sound issues at first, they gave a quality show and kept up the energy that you get from their records.

I think I am just too old and was too cold, but I refused to stay for the whole show. I heard the songs that I am most into, like “Cowards Around” “Nothing Better” and “Tasteless.” They covered one of their weirder sounding songs, a song that seems more like it came from the 80’s and is an unexpected historical Brazilian tale called “Lampião”, it’s a song that brings a smile to my face every time I hear it. But by the time they had hit into their last song (“One Rizla”) before the encore, even though they yelled out their support for Palestine, I had already made a promise to myself that I was going home to my warm bed and was snagging some Whataburger french fries. I walked down the steps yelling with the crowd “Free Palestine” and maneuvered to my car singing out loud and off key about how “my voice aint the best you heard,” lyrics that I love and is a constant in my angsty playlists.

The cold gave me an excuse, but I must concede the show was good and if I thought I was too old for that scene then I would have been disappointed on the amount of money I would have spent feeling that way for Meredith Marks.

At least I got to have my personal moment, to a song I love, on my own terms. I hope this portend wells for the rest of the shows I see this year.

My Last Show of the Year: The Faint at Emo’s

I miss the old location on sixth street. I had seen Childish Gambino and She Wants Revenge there, you know all the best Millennial dirt bags musicians. Now, do not get me wrong. Just because I am doing the whole “I was there” thing, that does not mean that I refuse to drive over to the Riverside venue. Like any true Austin transplant, I am pointing out my history with the city in order to give myself an air of credibility.

To add to that, I need to admit that this was not even the first time I have been at the new Emo’s to see the Faint. I picked up a ticket because I like the band, this time I would not be going with coworkers that I would stop keeping in touch with before anyone even quit or moved, and because I needed to get out of the house and dance. I do need to be realistic, if they were still on sixth street I would be bitching about how annoying it is to get to the old venue location and park. Cause you know, I love to complain.

I hate driving, so the same bit applies about getting to Riverside. Since they are no longer downtown they have a dedicated parking lot, but it was getting pretty full because I like to pull up in the middle of the opener’s set. I fear I may be at that age where I want to do shit on my own time, but mainly I need to take some time to build up the courage to step outside my doorstep.

I should have planned better and got there sooner. The opener was killer and the merch booth was long. As I drank my expensive vodka drink, I felt compelled to dance in place while I watched my chances dwindle away at getting one of the Hercules & Love Affair muscle tanks. Due to my no longer young age and destroyed hearing, I held onto hope all the way until the group in front of me was able to ask about it. I then realized the head shaking for the first twenty people was because we were all wondering the same thing. My consumerism was limited to a new The Faint t-shirt, but I could have spent so much more between the two. If only The Faint would just lean into their lyrics and do some type of makeup collab. You know, the take my money meme.

Shirt secured, I made my way to the fringes of a crowd that was feeling it. This may have been one of the rare shows where the people were moving. You could tell from the energy of the crowd that quite a few people understood the glory that is a live performance given by Hercules & Love Affair. I did not know of their brilliance at first, but the next day I made sure to track down their discography on steaming services and have been listening to them since. My understanding is that they started performing in the late 2000s, they have the indie electronic feel that was blowing up around that time. I feel they may be more niche than some of the other electronic acts from the time period though, with their queer positive songs recalling classic house. They played “My Offence”, and their other hits, giving themselves a pathway to shuffle step straight into my heart.

I think that the opener and dance style of the headliner also helped me to feel so at ease during the show (well that and probably the vodka). The crowd demographic was queer, filled with friend groups looking to dance their night away, and hetero couples already paired up cause it was their date night. I did not feel out of place dancing by myself, nor did I feel like I was going to have to skulk away to avoid getting ground up on by someone I did not lust for. So that alone is a success!

What I dug about the old venue location still applies to the new, Emo’s has a way to make it feel intimate while also being hugggggge. Even at an outer edge you can get close to the stage without the claustrophobia of being dead center, giving a good view of the performers on stage. In between my head bops and the lowering of my creaky knees so I could get down, I was able to see that the band was giving their performance of their hits as much as we were giving them in dance moves. Album wise they focused on tracks from Danse Macabre and Wet From Birth, but even when they played an older or newer track that may not have been as popular the crowd did not relent in their dancing devotion.

While I dipped out on the last bit of the encore, I wanted to get home before I started ranting and raving about Waymos and what is happening to this city, I did so ecstatic over the money I had spent and the aching in my body from acting like I could dance the way I used to when listening to The Faint. It was a good night and an amazing show to end my year with.

All the shows I have been to but I have not been writing about

This is going to be one of those honest moments in which I admit each band deserves their own post, but I have been so behind on things that I have not written or posted with consistency. So time has passed, my memory is already starting to fade, but at least I lived.

Levitation Day Two (09/27/2025): Blonde Redhead and TV on the Radio

There were many bands that day, but I only had ears for two. On the rare day in which I can escape the children and just be irresponsible again (that is what people mean by carefree right), my personalty is to prepare myself mentally for what I know I will enjoy. These two bands. And time to read.

I arrived halfway through the day so I could catch Blonde Redhead, a band that I discovered through my much cooler friends in high school and has imprinted on me how chic it is to have screechy haunting shoe gazing melodies. This is art rock, but good.

Like all the other bands I am about to gush about, it was my first time and thank the goddesses they did not disappoint. Both sets where indoors at the Palmer Events Center, so I was confident in finding parking and navigating the space. Levitation Fest focuses on rock and harder sounds, meaning it was a bit of a sausage fest (mustached men with long hair as far as the roving eye could see). Another plus was that for once the restrooms for the ladies was not the one overflowing with those waiting a turn, the only real downside was seeing how many people didn’t even bother washing their hands in the shared sink area. If their hands are that dirty I can only imagine what that means for the facial and scalp hair. Oh, and the festival prices.

Back to the band, I was able to find a spot in the middle close enough to shoe gaze my way through some of my favorite songs in what I though was enough space to bop. Except that a much larger listener was tripping balls and swaying to their own musical experience in front of me, so my anxiety was high as I imagined being crushed by one person during the set. It didn’t happen as I am alive to bitch about not being big or high enough to be on his level, and also alive to say that hearing Blonde Redhead play was worth it.

They were the antithesis of the Regina Spektor show, with one of the band members wearing a shirt that in bold letters acknowledging the genocide in Palestine. They play so well together that it was one of those they-sound-just-like-their-albums type of experiences. Perfection.

TV on the Radio came at the end, and as a performer the singer was more raw in person, but the emotional resonance in seeing them play live was still the same.

I used the hours in between to snag food and read Perfect Victims: And the Politics of Appeal by Mohammed el-Kurd. I was able to finish it one day, minutes before I snagged a spot closer to an exit since the crowd was bigger and my fear grew from one person crushing me to several. Tunde Adebimpe came on stage and helped to solidify my read, with a call out on the war on Palestine and the recent passing of a political activist. The songs had more meaning since the joy of performing did not negate for the band the suffering of others, they worked together to perform their hits and they acknowledged their privilege when remembering others. And yes they played “Wolf Like Me” letting us direct the frustration that we all feel. Or at least that is how I left their show feeling.

Going to see these two bands solo helped to wash away some of the smut from my last experience.

Scoot Inn (10/31/2025) JMSN

TikTok got me into the music and then let me know he was coming to town. Adverting works so well, or at least on me, that I abandoned my toddler on Halloween (he was with his dad of course) and dressed up like a clown to drive downtown. Driving through the gentrified East Side, even for the historic Scoot Inn, is always stressful. But the show was early enough (so I am sure the artist could have his own holiday) that I was able to find parking in the numerous expensive parking garages that you see in that part of town. And it would seem that everyone was on dirty sixth anyway,

Okay, so other then knowing it was historic it was also my first time at the venue. It is like Stubb’s, but there is a “sitting” section that you have to pay more for so you can rest and have unlimited popcorn. It seems like you would want to be close to the stage though, so I don’t think that it is worth it.

For his Scared Straight tour, there was not enough people dressed up like they were in the “Dirty Dog” or “Soft Spot” music videos. I know I wasn’t on theme, but I was really hoping everyone else would be. JMSN and all his doppelgänger bandmates however were rocking the white prospector’s onsie which does wonder for the butts (as the Tina Belcher in me comes out). Once you get over how all the other musicians looking exactly like the lead, the art is dropped as the band starts to play from the new album (...it's only about you if you think it is). And then I get it, JMSN is so talented that he has splintered off into others who can exude the rage and sex that oozes from his lyrics.

This album is on the rock side, but JMSN moves between genres like R&B and you can hear it in the music. It was a show that I couldn’t stop swaying my ass to and a rare performance that had the crowd moving. I would for sure see him perform again the next time I get a chance.

Mohawk (11/06/2025) Murder by Death (The Farewell Tour)

Why did I wait until the end to see this band! This is an act that I will claim self discovery, I picked them up from a recommendation in a Spin article almost two decades ago and was into the southern gothic feel of their lyrics. I am a belter of their songs in private and in public apparently, as I couldn’t help but sing along with the others in the crowd.

I love Mohawks for, the ease of finding parking, the affordable pricing, and the set up. I tend to see the outdoor sets and the staggered levels gives you a good vantage point no matter where you squeeze yourself. This was a show in which the merchandise booth was overflowing and had the most amount of people I have ever seen already wearing the band’s shirt (that they bought at a different show). This band has dedicated fans who seem to be mourning the loss of a consistent touring act.

There was a mix of songs from each album and a tongue in cheek we-are-sick-of-this-shit comment before they played “Pizza Party! (at Gloria Estefan's House).” Even as the cringiest of their songs, I did not mind when it was performed since the crowd really dug it.

What I loved about the show was that like JMSN and Blonde Redhead, their live performance was comparable to their recordings. The distinctive use of the cello adds a classical and dramatic tone that bellows beautifully as the band plays. In their music the cello comes through as the second voice to the lead singers plaintive wails of living (a life straight out of Blood Meridian). Why did I wait so long to experience this for myself and when it is too late to get another taste?

I have my sights set on at least one more show before this year ends and I hope it continues to move me through these hectic days. Here is to hoping and to making my life worth it.

Regina Spektor at the Moody Theater (08/05/2025)

Going to see Regina Spektor perform was a mistake. Which is confusing because I feel like finding out she was touring kicked me out of the depressed stage of I-am-old-and-doing-nothing-with-my-life to full on participating in my mid-life crisis with glee. The enthusiasm and discovery that she was coming to town made me look into other shows. I found that the music scene in Austin is not dead and dropped some cash on people I have to see.

She was the soundtrack to my indie high school years. From one mentally unstable teen to another, I heard Regina Spektor played on someone else’s iPod Nano on the ride to their house during lunch. I then downloaded all that I could (viruses included) using my LimeWire account so I could burn CDs, that I would play when driving coworkers to our scammy job selling laptops at a booth in the mall. And thus the contagion was spread from one girl to another in our high school.

While those friendships may have crashed and burned, I still know some people with the nostalgia for her music and those years, so this was a concert at the Moody Theater that I attended with friends. One of which knew how insufferable I was at that time and still stuck around, to see me wear a thrifted dress 20 years later that I insist is giving Mod Cloth vibes (it was a light blue, sheer, with a Peter Pan color, and little mushrooms all over).

We took photos as we walked the dizzying heights to get to our balcony seats. Perfect for social media, the exercise, and I will say price for the seats. There is not a bad spot in this venue, just more expensive and better ones. I went with the side balcony that overlooks the stage and for most of the performance we could almost see her facial expressions as she played the piano. Or maybe someone with better vision could, even with my contacts I don’t have the best low light vision.

The other show I have gone to for this venue (that I recall) was Louis C.K., before he got called out for being a creep. And after this show, plus some of the others that they have on their calendar, I will say that they do not turn down a performer with controversy to their name (as Louis C.K. has several upcoming shows in the next few months, as well as Matt Rife). Also their drinks are expensive, but that is to be expected.

Right before her show, like a week before, Reddit explodes with drama from an earlier performance in which Palestinian protesters used her concert as a time to call out the genocide in Gaza. She did not handle it the way I would like, and from the too late research I ended up doing, I found out I was supporting someone who was lacking in the type of empathy I hope to see in others. From her Wikipedia page, she does not see herself as a Zionist but the inability to separate the Israeli goals from how it created an unjust state on lands that it is occupying is hard to get over. THE GUILT WAS EATING ME ALIVE. As it should.

I did not need to worry, because the crowd was not going to cause a scene that would create a moral conundrum (should I walk out with the others). I got to be a coward and enjoy the show. As a crowd we were uniform looking acolytes, or as my friend yelled at me in half mocking drunken rage after, “You all look like trad wives!” Yes I was wearing pearl studs to go with my dress, so he wasn’t wrong, especially as he felt truly alone and not represented in the crowd. In Austin, the venue was packed and we were not going to disappoint their quirky songstress.

The songs she played were perfect solo performances in which she moved from piano to electric guitar to stomping and then back to piano. There was a range of songs, although there was no “Samson,” I heard “Us,” “Après Moi,” and “That Time.” So she played a smattering of songs from each album, but the key word was solo. It was just her, her voice, the instrument, and a light show. It was a bit selfish, she even did a self indulgent rendition of the song named after her “Reginasaurus.”

I felt emotion, but it wasn’t just her words or singing it was the arrangement. How can I recapture driving around after curfew with my window rolled down singing “Us” at the top of my youthful lungs as I coat them with tar, getting cool air and being able to run with it instead of my broken a/c, back before it became forever hot and impossible to do.

Her views, or lack of solidarity is heavy on my mind. At the same time, I want to see her paying musicians to give us a full experience when she is on tour. So I did the least I could do, which was ignore the merch booth. Listen, I am a consumer and I will buy a t-shirt and other things so I can wear it in public. I am actively trying to get people to ojo me with envy, it gives me life. But not this show.

Maybe for Blonde Redhead?! Unless, there is something I should look into…