"We saw sort of famous people as they watched the buffalo roam
and in the palm of my hand for you I wrote down this poem
but the words they all bled together like some ancient Asian script
and it was gone in an instant as I lost my grip”
In 1995, my buddy Mr. Lambe (let’s just call him Mr. Lambe as if he’s an MI5 agent because he actually might be one) and I hopped into my newly painted 1976 Datsun 620 pickup and drove from Minnesota all the way to Texas to get influential music biz people to listen to our songs and make us famous like Pavement or Beck famous. We figured that the (still boutique) South by Southwest Music Festival in Austin was our ticket to stardom. A posse of us Minneapolis musicians had two fledgling bands going at the time and we were to represent each band making sure that our newly minted recordings would make it into the right ears. We were under a tremendous amount of pressure because historically, messengers often get shot. But two great things came out of the journey:
(1) Two friends road trippin!!!
(B) I got a song out of it
I begin the original full band recording of “Texas Roadtrip Breakdown” singing, “I was on my way to Texas with a bald headed Irishman”. I probably wouldn’t write lyrics like these now but Mr. Lambe is in fact from Ireland and he had a bald head. Still does. Just a year or so prior to this, he even had a mohawk. Our friend’s younger brother lovingly referred to him as “pelt head”. Great band name. As time goes on, I prefer to sing “with an old, old friend” as it has more of a nostalgic, gentler meter like you’re surfing waves of time. We’re both over 6 feet tall and I doubt we were the intended profile the designers at Datsun had in mind as passengers in their trucks in 1976. Lots of leg. Honestly, I don’t know how the two of us even fit in that cab.
I bought the thing for $350 from a neighbor in the Minneapolis neighborhood of Linden Hills (not known for it’s dodgy car deals) and immediately painted bricks and ivy all over it. Great idea. Poorly executed but the custom paint job raised the value to $365 so it was a no brainer. I saw the perfect topper for it laying on the grass next to a picnic table full of people drinking lots of beer around noon on a week day. It was difficult to judge so I tried not to. I’m sure it was 5 o’clock somewhere. There was a sign on it that said, “$25”. Sold! I got a topper and they went off to Zipps Liquor Store to get more beer.
I drove that truck everywhere for the next few years, out to Seattle and Portland and Chicago a few times, once to Vail in the Colorado Rockies and then of course the trip to Texas. I could pull over at the drop of a hat and have a snooze in the back with that same hat. The thing just kept on going until it didn’t. As I sing in verse two, the “muffler up and bit the dust” when we were outside Austin in some state park where I saw my first (and only) real armadillo. Love those things. It would be odd to have one as a pet though because I would imagine cuddling on the couch with a leathery armadillo while binge watching “Barnaby Jones” isn’t quite as satisfying as doing the the same with a labradoodle. Anyway, we loudly drove back to Austin and found a guy who fixed the muffler like a real muffler man.
We flew by Waco after we “slipped through Oklahoma” where a few years prior, 76 Branch Davidians and their second coming Christ like leader David Koresh died in an FBI ambush as their entire compound went up in flames. There were charges of child abuse, statutory rape and illegal weapons amongst other things so something fishy was definitely going on there but ultimately, it became another sad reflection of how humans still haven’t figured things out. Somewhere near there (which seemed possibly connected but unverifiable) we passed some dude dressed in a Christ-like robe with a crown of thorns on his head, pulling a giant cross with a sneaky wheel that he probably hired some Judas to attach to the bottom for some help from physics, walking away everyone’s sins in the middle of a hot Texas day on the shoulder of I-35. Both stories made the cut.
Austin was awesome. It was such a chill city. Everyone was friendly and it still had that post “Slacker” glow to it which meant that it was trying NOT to glow because glowing requires work and sometimes not being stoned. We could park the brick truck for a night of sleeping virtually anywhere from quiet, tree lined streets to concrete parking garages (pictured) and no one would give a crap. Great cafes and bars. Music literally coming from everywhere and the Colorado River flowed right through it all. I’m sure it’s still a great town but I’m a bit hesitant to go back after so many years. That said, I wouldn’t turn down an invite to play SXSW next year if anyone reading has the means. I’ll do anything to wear a lanyard that says, “Artist”, something that’ll get me and my plus 1 through the door.
I remember having an epiphany hearing Matthew Sweet speak on a panel about how his album “Girlfriend” struggled on the edge of death multiple times due to music industry label management insanity, yet lived. I love that album (and it’s fabulous cover) and I think it ranks up there as one of the best guitar driven indie pop albums of the 90’s. Sometimes though, it’s just not enough to write and record good songs. Invisible forces lurk in the bushes and will jump out at any time and either hit you over the head with a shovel or give you the keys to the city.
We saw a lot of amazing music which both inspired and scared the shit out of me. I was overwhelmed and felt like there was no way I could ever break through all the noise. Nearly 30 years later, I know those fears were not unfounded which means I can predict the future. It’s a gift I guess. We eventually had our chance to get our demo cassettes plucked out of a cardboard box and listened to by “music industry” types in a big nondescript corporate room with bad lighting. As we sat in our folding chairs in the back bouncing our long femurs, I remember when the random tape pulled out was actually our band: 80 Bones. My heart was beating loud enough to rattle the portrait of LBJ hanging on the wall or at least knock his cowboy hat off. They played about 30 seconds of the lead off (“brilliant” fyi) song and the guy said something like, “Hmm. The voices sound pretty good…um…hey we’re kind of running out of time here so let’s listen to a couple more songs then we’ve gotta wrap this panel up.” I’m sure they were in some sort of existential pain up there with their styrofoam cups or crap coffee, having had to subject themselves and everyone to the ridiculous pageant of a demo listening party but since they were wearing “All Access” lanyards around their necks, I didn’t feel too much pity. I knew that mentally, they were already in the VIP tent drinking free beer at the Guided by Voices show rubbing elbows with industry types and other “sort of” famous people while Mr. Lambe and I had to take the long walk back to the truck. The one that was painted like a brick wall.
And just like that it was time to point the bow north and begin the 30 some hour trek back to Minnesota. I can’t really recall all that much of what went on in that small Datsun truck, the conversations, the musings, the obvious question of how we didn’t get any girls in Austin but I figure there was a lot of beautiful inane chatter to balance out all the silence. And plenty of laughs of course. These are the things that make life wonderful and are definitely better than scoring a record deal. Actually, I take that back. I mean, if I got a record deal now it would make me laugh for sure so I guess it’s possible to have both. We certainly didn’t achieve what we set out to accomplish, which was to become part of the rock ‘n roll pedigree, you know, worshipped, admired, studied, part of the pantheon like Wilco, Yo La Tengo, Robyn Hitchcock, the Jayhawks, Spoon, Elastica and Bob Mould. They all played at SXSW that year. The next year, we didn’t.
“So we packed her up and hit the road
and we headed towards the ol’ North Pole
all hail the mystery of this rock n roll!”
Here’s an acoustic iPhone demo I just laid down...
And this is the full band recording from the 2010 album “Buried Transmissions: Vol 33” with a full tilt Minneapolis band of friends backing me up.
Bonus points:
For those who want to graduate Magna Cum Laude purely on extra credit, this is another iPhone demo, something more on the edge, maybe more cinematic…or possibly just stranger…
Thanks for reading and listening and special thanks as always to those who’ve contributed to Artful Monk. I truly appreciate it!
Stay artful…