Barfly Awards / Excess Lettuce / Hobble / Sniffy2
The Ritz, Sunday 1.11.04
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.
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.
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
Hank Williams III / Scott H. Biram
Stubb’s, Sunday 1.18.04
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.
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?)
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.
They Who Search studios
Crow / Toxic Shock Syndrome
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.
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.
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.