I’m not stable enough to write a fluid piece this
morning. Instead, here are some quick snap shots of shit
I’ve seen down here in no particular order:
A lot of people in Austin actually sleep in booths at their
friends’ bars at the end of the night.
I’m a wastoid degenerate and all, but I still find that to be
the lowest thing since child molester vans with that ladder in the
back. Where do those ladders go anyway?
The prize for worst slogan ever – and I mean ever –
goes to Weekender Records, whose motto is: “Home is where the
Record Player is.” I’m pretty sure that
“record player” doesn’t rhyme with
The Jackalope, which has become my bloody mary bar of choice in Texas,
is home to “Austin’s Best Medium-Fast
Burger,” whatever the fuck that is.
I saw a group called Drop Sonic from LA yesterday, and they sound what
I imagine U2 would sound like if Bono wore Oakleys. In fact,
I’ll be adding them to the short list of bands I like, so
hopefully they don’t mind being in the company of AC/DC, Sick
of it All and the Bloodhound Gang.
Just walk around down here and you’re bound to run into a
free taco. And if you don’t there are a lot of
prostitutes around as well.
Percee P – who I told you yesterday slung CDs on New York
streets for twenty years before finally getting a record deal
– is still selling merchandise everywhere he goes.
I swear this dude would push discs at a funeral.
DJ Statik Selektah is a beast on the decks. Homeboy kicked
one of the flyest golden age medleys that I’ve ever heard at
the “Urban Meet and Greet” yesterday.
“Urban,” by the way, means
“black.” I’ll never get tired of hearing
Wu-Tang’s “Triumph,” and neither should
you. I’ve completely lost my voice. It’s
Eli “Paperboy” Reed is no joke.
He’s the dopest whitest soul singer to ever break out of
Brookline, and I saw him get famous last night. Just watch
how much hype follows him out of Texas.
Pinky ring worth about fifty bling-bling.
It was a long walk to the Scoot Inn, but Texas rap crooner Devin the
Dude tore it up and down. That dude – or
“The Dude,” if you will – makes bitches
wet and men hard. El-P – while not the
cum-spiration that Devin is – also got heads
jumping. Check the pics.
This is the sound of what you don’t know killing
you. “We don’t have any happy music
tonight,” said El-P.
I saw Bushwick Bill – the self-proclaimed “King
Kong with the ding dong” – and man is that dude
short. He’s also not too friendly.
Dubb Sicks – this maniacal whiteboy MC who last year I saw
kick over a Porta Potty with someone in it – is back on the
scene. I’m not going home until I get this kid a
deal, so I might be down here for a while.
Peace to 7L, Beyonder, Esoteric, Karma and all the Boston cats who
ripped the UndergroundHipHop.com showcase at the Light Bar last
night. Someone had to show these Texas fools how to put it
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