Youth Group; Cheap date night; Tapes 'n Tapes; 2 down, 6 to go, and the Brazos River Bottom
3/12
I made it out to Susan and Jerry's in time to catch Dad's return to town and have dinner with everybody before Mom and Dad headed back to Waco and I headed back into town. I met Cindy at the Daily Grind (next door to Walter's) where she was having dinner after returning from the neuroscience retreat, and when she was done we walked a couple dozen yards over to Walter's in time to catch...
Youth Group. I had been quite thoroughly addicted to their soaring anthemic pop last summer, and though my enthusiasm for them had waned somewhat in the intervening months, I was still excited for the chance to hear them play live. Disappointingly (for me at least), the band was only opening (for Matt Pond, PA), but they had enough time to play through most of their album, plus a b-side or two. As I stood there, marinating in a pleasant beer buzz, the memories of last summer came rushing back. Youth Group may not be particularly innovative or represent high art, but there's something to be said for an album that has that affect on you. That emotional impact alone made the show worthwhile.
Sadly, Sabrina, who had taken to the album in a similarly enthusiastic manner, was in Japan (not that I blame her) and couldn't make the show.
Matt Pond, PA were OK, but I don't think we stuck around for the full set. They managed to transcend the (perhaps false) notion I had gotten of them as a poor man's Bright Eyes, but I haven't exactly sought them out since then, either.
3/13
Grafiti found in the stairwell at the apartment complex:
Will and I opted to take advantage of the Angelika's Monday night "cheap date night" special, which, with the purchase of a reasonably priced student ticket to any film, entitles one to a free drink and pop corn, and is thus just about the best deal since Cecil's $1 Mondays (at least, when they used to be $1).
We opted that night to see Capote, and though it was dark, it was plenty interesting. In particular, Phillip Seymour Hoffman's performance as the titular author managed the feat of being charming and irresistably magnetic despite his misuse of the people who surrounded him. When a neutral observer finds someone likable despite horrible things he's done, the actor has certainly played his role well.
3/14
It was South by Southwest week in Austin, and, consequently, Houston was treated to some of the overflow of musicians eager to call anything raised a foot or so off the ground a "stage".
Tapes 'n Tapes were (at the time) newly Pitchfork-hyped band whose music owed a certain debt to the Pixies. As the tour was booked before the hype hit, they were scheduled to play (as the second of four bands) at art co-op Super Happy Fun Land, which was a great opportunity.
First, as you may remember from my post last summer, the venue is BYOB, so Jeff, Cindy and I loaded up my small cooler (best $10 I've ever spent) with an assortment of beers packed in ice, which we then loaded up into Jeff's Audi and ferried up through the Heights to SHFL.
The other nice things are that the venue is quite small, draws a small crowd (30? 50 definitely seems like s stretch), has a nice artsy vibe, and, if you can forget what you know about the place, really feels like you're seeing a show in somebody's house (which you sort of are).
T 'n T put on an impressive, energetic show. In some ways I wish that the crowd had been bigger, as I think there would have been a nice synergistic effect, but I was perfectly thankful for what I got. The following bands weren't exactly worthwhile, so we sat in the back and finished off the remaining beers from the cooler.
There was talk of heading to a bar after the show, but I can't really remember if we did that or not (Jeff would know, if he's still reading this). The Proletariat seems likely, but we could have just as easily decided against it.
3/16
So, turns out that unbeknownst to me, my classmate Matt had decided to "take a leave of absence" (which is a way for the school to avoid counting somebody as a dropout for as long as possible) to go work for a startup run by some of his college chums. To be fair, the lab Matt wanted to join hadn't had funding for him, and he had never quite gotten into what he was working on in the lab he ended up joining.
It did surpise me, though, that he was willing to go work in Illinois, away from his wife of almost two years, who was a year ahead of him in graduate school (and also in Lauren's lab, Graham's half lab, and Will's potential future lab).
We had previously had another student exit (though she made no pretense of a leave of absence) to get to work making the real money; she had been in my lab. Consequently, 2 of our class down, 6 to go...
Char and Graham had arranged for Matt to join us for drinks (or the singular in Matt's case) at Cecil's that night as a sort of farewell. Jean Claude Van Damme's Bloodsport was on the television, which seemed to frequently interrupt the the flow of the conversation (I hate TVs in bars; you ask me, I blame sports).
Matt took off, and we made arrangements to move on. Samara met us, and we took off for Gentrified Midtown. We started out at... some place that was in a strip center, which is usually a bad sign, and this was no exception. Graham suggested we go north a block and check out a place called Brazos River Bottom. My Waco heritage and consequent affection for the Brazos caused me to voice support for this idea.
We went in, and I noted a strip club-style entryway. Passing through this, I noted that the place was... very country. And there was something... queer about the bartender that made me feel immediately out of place. The presence of the word "bottom" seemed rather important all of the suddent.
Samara and I figured it out before the other two guys. Char caught on when he couldn't resolve why the girl that a guy was making out with outside had a beard.
Yep. We were in a gay bar. Graham and Char became visibly uncomfortable. While three of us finished off our beers as quickly as possible, Char was, perhaps not surprisingly, taking his time. While Samara and I relished their discomfort, we pointed out the neon rainbow beer signs.
Once we finally got ready to leave, Char noted a poster for Brokeback Mountain at the entrance. I would have loved to have taken incriminating photos had I thought my camera phone would capture sufficient detail.
We decided to go toward the northwest corner of Gentrified Midtown and check out either the Front Porch or Komodo Lounge, settling on the latter. Samara doubted my sense of direction, but I got us there directly. We had a round (or two) and I recounted my previous Komodo experience with the change-licking bartender.
It was getting late enough that it didn't matter that it was getting later, so we decided to go off in search of food. We walked a few blocks to a diner nearby that's in the shadow of I45 and looks remarkably out of place (I keep meaning to go look at it again; something mysterious about it). We found it closed so we returned to our cars and got us some sweet, sweet Late Nite Pie and then called it a night.
I made it out to Susan and Jerry's in time to catch Dad's return to town and have dinner with everybody before Mom and Dad headed back to Waco and I headed back into town. I met Cindy at the Daily Grind (next door to Walter's) where she was having dinner after returning from the neuroscience retreat, and when she was done we walked a couple dozen yards over to Walter's in time to catch...
Youth Group. I had been quite thoroughly addicted to their soaring anthemic pop last summer, and though my enthusiasm for them had waned somewhat in the intervening months, I was still excited for the chance to hear them play live. Disappointingly (for me at least), the band was only opening (for Matt Pond, PA), but they had enough time to play through most of their album, plus a b-side or two. As I stood there, marinating in a pleasant beer buzz, the memories of last summer came rushing back. Youth Group may not be particularly innovative or represent high art, but there's something to be said for an album that has that affect on you. That emotional impact alone made the show worthwhile.
Sadly, Sabrina, who had taken to the album in a similarly enthusiastic manner, was in Japan (not that I blame her) and couldn't make the show.
Matt Pond, PA were OK, but I don't think we stuck around for the full set. They managed to transcend the (perhaps false) notion I had gotten of them as a poor man's Bright Eyes, but I haven't exactly sought them out since then, either.
3/13
Grafiti found in the stairwell at the apartment complex:
Will and I opted to take advantage of the Angelika's Monday night "cheap date night" special, which, with the purchase of a reasonably priced student ticket to any film, entitles one to a free drink and pop corn, and is thus just about the best deal since Cecil's $1 Mondays (at least, when they used to be $1).
We opted that night to see Capote, and though it was dark, it was plenty interesting. In particular, Phillip Seymour Hoffman's performance as the titular author managed the feat of being charming and irresistably magnetic despite his misuse of the people who surrounded him. When a neutral observer finds someone likable despite horrible things he's done, the actor has certainly played his role well.
3/14
It was South by Southwest week in Austin, and, consequently, Houston was treated to some of the overflow of musicians eager to call anything raised a foot or so off the ground a "stage".
Tapes 'n Tapes were (at the time) newly Pitchfork-hyped band whose music owed a certain debt to the Pixies. As the tour was booked before the hype hit, they were scheduled to play (as the second of four bands) at art co-op Super Happy Fun Land, which was a great opportunity.
First, as you may remember from my post last summer, the venue is BYOB, so Jeff, Cindy and I loaded up my small cooler (best $10 I've ever spent) with an assortment of beers packed in ice, which we then loaded up into Jeff's Audi and ferried up through the Heights to SHFL.
The other nice things are that the venue is quite small, draws a small crowd (30? 50 definitely seems like s stretch), has a nice artsy vibe, and, if you can forget what you know about the place, really feels like you're seeing a show in somebody's house (which you sort of are).
T 'n T put on an impressive, energetic show. In some ways I wish that the crowd had been bigger, as I think there would have been a nice synergistic effect, but I was perfectly thankful for what I got. The following bands weren't exactly worthwhile, so we sat in the back and finished off the remaining beers from the cooler.
There was talk of heading to a bar after the show, but I can't really remember if we did that or not (Jeff would know, if he's still reading this). The Proletariat seems likely, but we could have just as easily decided against it.
3/16
So, turns out that unbeknownst to me, my classmate Matt had decided to "take a leave of absence" (which is a way for the school to avoid counting somebody as a dropout for as long as possible) to go work for a startup run by some of his college chums. To be fair, the lab Matt wanted to join hadn't had funding for him, and he had never quite gotten into what he was working on in the lab he ended up joining.
It did surpise me, though, that he was willing to go work in Illinois, away from his wife of almost two years, who was a year ahead of him in graduate school (and also in Lauren's lab, Graham's half lab, and Will's potential future lab).
We had previously had another student exit (though she made no pretense of a leave of absence) to get to work making the real money; she had been in my lab. Consequently, 2 of our class down, 6 to go...
Char and Graham had arranged for Matt to join us for drinks (or the singular in Matt's case) at Cecil's that night as a sort of farewell. Jean Claude Van Damme's Bloodsport was on the television, which seemed to frequently interrupt the the flow of the conversation (I hate TVs in bars; you ask me, I blame sports).
Matt took off, and we made arrangements to move on. Samara met us, and we took off for Gentrified Midtown. We started out at... some place that was in a strip center, which is usually a bad sign, and this was no exception. Graham suggested we go north a block and check out a place called Brazos River Bottom. My Waco heritage and consequent affection for the Brazos caused me to voice support for this idea.
We went in, and I noted a strip club-style entryway. Passing through this, I noted that the place was... very country. And there was something... queer about the bartender that made me feel immediately out of place. The presence of the word "bottom" seemed rather important all of the suddent.
Samara and I figured it out before the other two guys. Char caught on when he couldn't resolve why the girl that a guy was making out with outside had a beard.
Yep. We were in a gay bar. Graham and Char became visibly uncomfortable. While three of us finished off our beers as quickly as possible, Char was, perhaps not surprisingly, taking his time. While Samara and I relished their discomfort, we pointed out the neon rainbow beer signs.
Once we finally got ready to leave, Char noted a poster for Brokeback Mountain at the entrance. I would have loved to have taken incriminating photos had I thought my camera phone would capture sufficient detail.
We decided to go toward the northwest corner of Gentrified Midtown and check out either the Front Porch or Komodo Lounge, settling on the latter. Samara doubted my sense of direction, but I got us there directly. We had a round (or two) and I recounted my previous Komodo experience with the change-licking bartender.
It was getting late enough that it didn't matter that it was getting later, so we decided to go off in search of food. We walked a few blocks to a diner nearby that's in the shadow of I45 and looks remarkably out of place (I keep meaning to go look at it again; something mysterious about it). We found it closed so we returned to our cars and got us some sweet, sweet Late Nite Pie and then called it a night.
posted by L. Maxwell Ward at 1:08 AM
