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Barfly Awards / Excess Lettuce / Hobble / Sniffy2
The Ritz, Sunday 1.11.04

It took Austin’s own legendary pick-less guitar player and class clown, Jimmy Bradshaw, to come up with a concept like the Barfly Awards. As best I could tell, the awards are extolled on those who best excel at drinking and acting stupid while drunk. Needless to say, several of your faithful Rank and Revue staff members ended up being awardees. The night was capped off by some short sets by Sniffy2, Hobble and Excess Lettuce. Here are some of the highlights.

Rank and Revue’s own mascot, and hanger-on, Elliott French won Best Beer Bum, meaning he bums the most beers. Not five minutes before Elliot won, true to form, he tried to bum a beer off me. He had better luck getting one off Brandon Crowe. Looney won Loudest Drunk. Brenna probably should have come in second, but second and third place was also Looney. Chad Holt won Best Drunken Gymnast, and anyone that has seen his shows would concur. Excess Lettuce/Electric Cock drummer extraordinaire Ian Burrowes won Biggest Male Whore, which meant he scored the most drunk-ass chicks. Probably right. Chad came in second. If his stories are true, he might have really deserved first. Ian then proceeded to announce the award for Biggest Female Whore, and we all got a good belly laugh when Ian saw that the card read, “It’s a tie…Any girl that slept with Ian.” I thought the winner was going to be Deanna, but she ended up winning most public nudity instead. The crowd was treated (or disgusted, depending on who you ask) to a sample. Wendy and I were both nominees for Most Nights Out, but Stephaine won instead. I guess I don’t go the Ritz as often as I used to. Some of the awards seem skewed to its clientele, but I guess that just means there are a lot of barflies that hang at the Ritz.

For some inexplicable reason, Casino’s was left out of the balloting, but Jimmy promised me that they would be included next year. Barfly of the Year, the grand prize, went to Gene Loncon of Hobble/Sniffy fame. He definitely put enough Crown away this year to deserve it. We’re all hoping that he keeps that bar high enough to raise the trophy again next year.

–Larry Stern

Hank Williams III / Scott H. Biram
Stubb’s, Sunday 1.18.04

I hate country music with a passion, but a good friend of mine told me I was just listening to the wrong type of country music. He advised me to check out entertaining musicians such as Wayne “The Train” Hancock and Hank Williams III. Good musicians can change your perspectives of things. So, just as I learned pop punk exists, so does pop country, and this music is definitely not it. Thanks, for the advice, dude. My views of country music will never be the same.

Opener Scott H. Biram generates fun tunes brimming with energy. Trust me, this guy will take you from yawn to yeehaw in five seconds flat. His singing ability really blew me away and left me wondering why I never listened to his music in the first place. (To get a better picture of just who Scott Biram is check out our previous issue for a great story and interview written by Wendy WWAD and James E. Or check out one of his albums. May I suggest his latest release, Lo-Fi Mojo?)

Hank Williams III, a legend for sure, proves country music can be entertaining, dynamic and not at all sappy. He makes country music for the outlaw in us all. This explains his diverse following: rednecks, frat boys, punk rockers, and everyone in between. Throwing conformity out the window, he sings straight from his heart, not from others’ views of what country music should be. His song “Trashville” says it all, “Now playin’ country music it ain’t like it used to be/I’m so tired of this new stuff they’re tryin’ to get me to sing/That ain’t no country music to me.” That amazing song appears on his album Lovesick, Broke & Driftin’—definitely worth buying. Boohoo if you missed this show. It literally screamed perfect performance. And if, like me, you despise country music, open up your mind, and expand your musical tastes. Tastes change sometimes if you get a chance to listen to talented musicians perform music not meant for society at large.

–Misty Sweet

They Who Search studios
Crow / Toxic Shock Syndrome
1-11-04

They Who Search art group hosted a release party for their ‘zine (Voice 7 Photo Issue) featuring seven artists: JLAW, Tim Pipe, Jen Godsay, Robbie Knight, Greg Maston, Lee Flythe, Carly Rabalais and Lauren Everett. Mostly black & white photography, notable work included Tim Pipe’s action-packed portrait of Austin’s own curbside tranny thong model, Leslie, protesting cop crackdowns on the homeless.

The art display was set to noise by JLAW’s “house band” Crow, and another two-man-band, Toxic Shock Syndrome. TSS, from San Antonio, is13-year-old Max on guitar/vocals, and16-year-old Elisa on drums. For an attentive crowd of artists, musicians, BMX riders, skaters, and drunks, the teens tore into Motorhead’s Ace of Spades, did a bunch of their own songs, and ended with a cover from Turbo Negro (the boy’s favorite band). These kids kick ass, and I hope to see them again when they’ve learned to tune their instruments.

In the usual Crow fashion, the volume, distortion, and life-threatening aggression drove the lily-livers out of the room. But, survey said, their infectious songs lingered in many an art geek’s head. Check out www.theywhosearch.com for more info.
--- Bek Sabbath

COYOTE UGLY TRYOUTS
LA ZONA ROSA, Mon. Jan 19th

You wouldn’t believe how much trouble I had finding a photographer to go cover the Coyote Ugly bartender tryouts! The first three guys I asked, Shutterbutt, Stern, and Jonathan, completely fagged out on me, preaching busy schedules and strained uteruses as excuses. It was an oversight on my part not to go to Beau Been, the only real man in the photography department, from the get-go. We arrived to what lacked both the nudity of a strip club and the excitement of a rock concert. The women, some sixty of them, came out on stage in groups of seven, two of them displaying their bartending skills and the other five showing off their bar top dance moves while hits like “Sweet Home Alabama” and “You Spin Me Right ‘Round” played over the PA. Almost to the last one, every girl who tried out was drop dead fine as all hell. I wanted to go out in the parking lot and hide in a back seat. By far my favorite as well as most of the crowd’s was the lovely Lana Banana, known across the dogleg for her bartending prowess at Club Deville. Just so happens that Mrs. Banana has become the object of my affections, and I covet her immensely. Legend has it, she got the job, and Coyote Ugly will be opening on Jan. 28th.

- Bobby Looker

He Kill Three / Gun Totin’ Meat Eaters / Shiv
Stubbs – Friday 1.23.04

Boyee… what a rowdy, raunchy night at Stubbs. All-a my bitches were in the house, except for one glaringly absent 7-foot tattooed redhead. That empty hole in my life was made up for with a shot of tequila, presented to me by one 7-foot mega-hot brunette, initials J. Rose.

Chris Connally rips some sick guitar leads! That’s what I got out of my first dose of Shiv, besides the impression that they are Sepultura riff-lifters! No harm in that. Hard-rockin’ band of the gutteral, thrashy, new-metal persuasion. Shiv’s lean-and-mean bass player Zack also fronts on guitar/vox for He Kill Three, the last act of the night and obviously a brother-band to Shiv – they were so much alike I can’t tell ya the difference. My deficiency, let me slide.

Now as for the Gun Totin’ Meat Eaters… DANGER! Step away from the stage!

Chad Holt belongs in jail. Not only does he wear a striped jail-bird suit for the show, but he goes and gets arrested the night before on drunken what-not charges. Good thing his lawyer has a hot phone and homing device for this busy client. Add the Brackenridge EMT’s to your shwag list, boys, because your front-man is gonna break his friggin neck one of these days. He spends more time face-down on the scud-swilled floor than on the stage. I swear every one-a my bitches either kicked him in the ass or grabbed his notorious package as his lower-half protruded from his trash can. When he slid down the stairs head-first in said container, I was sure it was all over for him. But Chad has 900 lives, apparently, and he kept it up until they threw him out of the bar (so I heard, over coffee and metal church Sunday morning). The Meat Eaters are punk as fuck, and Chad Holt says “fuck” more often and more sincerely than anyone else. Chad says “fuck” without words.

I hereby love this band because they’re plain ill, and because they have a song called “Life of Crime” – also the title of my all-time favorite documentary film about a pair of junkie shoplifters who OD in the construction rubble of Newark, NJ and die of AIDS in jail. The film would make an uncanny music video for the Meat’ers.

-- Bek Sabbath

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