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Geek Weekly #1

GW#1 - p3 (2)
Indexed

GW#1 - p3 (2)

THE GREAT ROCK-N ROLL MASSACRE '94

It all started with the Motards/Drags/Fells show at Electric Lounge on 19 August. I got this crazy start and ended up going to the show with my now-roommate. When I showed up, Susan was there which was really weird cuz I took her to the bus station two days earlier and I didn't expect to see her again for a month or two. It turned out that she met up with this chick in Houston during her layover and ended up staying for a couple of days and spending all her money or something and coming right back home. So blah, blah, the show was great, the Motards were rowdy-imagine! and the Drags blew me away- I'd never heard/seen them before (partly cuz they're from Arizona)- and, of course the Fells were just beautiful. The only weird thing that happened was that CJ from the Drags jumped on me and then gave me a 7". Oh, and people kept asking Susan if we were sisters, a thing that hasn,t happened to us in a long time.

But then, on Sunday night, after being denied Susan's mom's car (a really plush Jeep-Trooper thing with a CD player and AC and all), we headed for San Antonio in my fucked up '73 Superbeetle, Ruth. Now, when I got Ruth a few years ago, I would drive her to Houston a lot to go visit my mommie, but she I haven't dared to take her out on the open road in some time. She performed beautifully! She really came through for me.

And after tons of confusion and a brick plate special from a Furr's Cafeteria in San Marcos, we got to Taco Land who had said over the phone that the Inhalants/Drags/Fells show was indeed happening there ..... 2

Last edit almost 10 years ago by Jennifer Hecker

Geek Weekly #3

GW#3 - p10 (8)
Indexed

GW#3 - p10 (8)

I want to preface this article with something I've been wanting to write about for a really long time: it seems I'm not much of a rock critic. You may have noticed this. Every once in a while I'll come up with some witty, descriptive little nugget that pinpoints exactly what it is about a band or a song or an album, but this is rare. Usually, for lack of any real talent, I'll resort to the "Yeah, this rocks!" school of criticism. This is why I rarely review any of my truly, deeply, intensely favorite bands. (Another reason is that I like to try to keep something personal, although I usually don't do a good job of it.) There are just a few records/shows/bands that leave me so completely at a loss that all I can do is think about them and sometimes talk about them. I particularly have a hard time with Pavement (esp. S&E), the Pixies, the Grifters, the Velvet Underground to a lesser degree, Paul's Boutique, and Flaming Lips shows oh, and the recent Thinking Fellers Local 282 show. Anyway, I'm young yet, so maybe my skills will evolve with time and maybe, oh, thirty years from now I'll be describing emo bands as "gutbucket" and writing articles about how it was to be young in the days of the first (out of several, by then) of the punk revivals for Rolling Schmeg...

I guess it was December 6, a Thursday, my memory isn't all that reliable. Susan and I limped our way to Houston in my dilapidated yet faithful automobile, Ruth. The Grifters were playing at the Urban Art Bar. I don't know if you've heard, but if you're ever lookin' for Susan and you find out there's a Grifters show within a four-state radius of Texas, it's a pretty safe bet you could find her there. And I'm getting to be that way, too.

[photocopied clip art image of the dictionary illustration for the word 'atomizer']

So we traveled. We hadn't done a road trip together since oh, the night before (San Antonio). BUt really, before that we hadn't been on the road together much at all, so we were havin' a great time. Little did we know the drive home would be hell.

The Urban Art Bar is a pretty cool club with a big, Liberty Lunch-esque space with some furniture toward the back (a sofa, a couple o' chairs and a coffee table exactly like the one at the Satans' house, minus the plaques) and great lights and good sound and a little room in the back for the bands to hang out in.

The show was incredible as always. I wish I had written about it right when I got home (I'm gonna have to start doin' that) cause I never can recall the itty-bitty details of a show, which are always what makes a show so great, unless I'm talkin' and rehashin' with someone who was there, too. All I can remember right now was that they didn't play Soda Pop, which is probably my favorite live song, and they did play Queen of the Table Waters, which I had never heard before. I also happened to know how drunk they were and that made it all the more impressive of a show, I was amazed they could actually do it. I wish I had known I wasn't going to see them the next night.

We hung around for a while after the show, and then when we were more or less sober enough to drive, we cruised and ended up in a perilous fog for a good half of the drive back. It was awful! And we were in a bad mood. But we made it home in time for me to get about an hour and a half of sleep before I had to go to work. Yeah, yeah, I know we're rock'n'roll martyrs, we don't need yer sympathy.

Last edit about 10 years ago by Jennifer Hecker

Geek Weekly #6

34
Needs Review

34

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

Last edit almost 5 years ago by guest_user
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