Buried in SxSW 2010 stuff
March 6th, 2010 by Russ
Will begin making the pile more manageable tomorrow……
Bree Christene Eric Dony Hux Bill Kyle &John will be out there WITH ME.
THANK GOD
Archive for the ‘News’ CategoryBuried in SxSW 2010 stuffMarch 6th, 2010 by Russ Will begin making the pile more manageable tomorrow…… Hatch Show Print at AMOAMarch 4th, 2010 by Eric Swanson Thank you Austin Museum of Art for being an enabler to my addiction of collecting music posters. Years ago I realized the only way to find room for all my posters was to use them like wallpaper – side by side covering the walls and ceiling – so I kicked the poster habit. Two favorites were framed and hung on the wall, the rest were put in storage, where they sit tempting me to sell them on eBay. Now the Austin Museum of Art has gone and made poster art legitimate by hanging a hundred years of it in their gallery. Hear that sound? That’s me falling off the poster abstinence wagon. COURTNEY LOVE IS COMING TO SXSW 2010 AND I GOTTA TELL YA, I DON’T REALLY CARE.February 28th, 2010 by Russ WHY? SHE JUST HOLDS NO INTEREST FOR ME, NEVER HAS. IN COLLEGE, I PARTIED WITH HER BROTHER A FEW TIMES. WOW! THAT IS THE EXTENT OF MY CONVERSATIONAL KNOWLEDGE ABOUT C.LOVE. THEN, AS NOW, I HAD AND HAVE NO INTEREST IN HER EXPLOITS. THE ONLY REASON I EVEN KNOW HER NAME IS BECAUSE SHE WAS MARRIED TO KURT. Russ, OF COURSE. NOW MY REPORTER IS INTRIGUED BY THE CONTROVERSY. GO FIGURE….. sxsw film passes available for locals.February 26th, 2010 by Russ See as many movies as you can with the SXSW Film Pass. Available to the locals for just $70, the Film Pass grants unlimited access to movies. It is available for purchase at ALL Original Alamo Drafthouse locations in Austin and Waterloo Records. Missed the first screening? Don’t worry. Many films at SXSW have multiple screenings and the screenings run through March 20th. Check out SXSW.com for the official line up along with movie times and locations. Recommended if you love film. This is how we used to cover the festival back in the day. Because the badges are hard to come by, I still send a writer every year, to cover the fim fest with a pass. He opts in for the ride every year. Guess that means that the passes still rock? Once the music starts it is way easy to slide in and catch some awesome stuff. Shutter IslandFebruary 20th, 2010 by Russ
“YOU HAVE ALWAYS BEEN HERE MR.TORRENCE” WolfmanFebruary 16th, 2010 by Russ
I have a deep affinity for werewolf pictures. The story is awesome. The tragic once bitten tale has so many interesting avenues to embark on. Even the elements and devices (full moons and silver bullits, etc) are interesting. Foolproof. One would think. They are just never very good. Like a junkie, searching for that unatainable fix of ultimate bliss, I alwaze flock to the theater when a new werewolf picture is released. Hoping for that gem like AMERICAN WEREWOLF IN LONDON. Most of the releases never come close. The best I have seen in a long time has been GINGER SNAPS. One day, they will realize what can be done with this tale. I will keep sifting through the trials in hopes of that rush. Just saw this on AICN (AINTITCOOLNEWS.COM) THAT BILL MURRAY WILL BE IN GHOSTBUSTERS 3 ASFebruary 8th, 2010 by Russ A GHOST… Cactus Cafe ClosingFebruary 1st, 2010 by Eric Swanson ![]() "Cactus - My Home Club" Townes Van Zandt Cactus Cafe Waiting Around to Die The bureaucracy and decision making at UT can be a funny thing. When UT hired a new general manager and a program director for music radio station KUT, they chose people without experience in running a music-centric radio station like KUT, instead choosing people with backgrounds in news radio. The result? Local music programming severely axed at KUT, sparking public outcry. Another funny thing is Austin’s iconic Cactus Café. The folks over at UT have placed the fate of the Cactus Café, a legendary music venue and cultural institution with a world wide reputation, in the hands of the Texas Union directors, people mostly concerned with cheap bowling and foosball tables. As you probably know by now, the Texas Union recently decided to shut down the Cactus Café, and discontinue all Informal Classes. Both are community traditions that go back to the 1970s. According to Andy Smith, the executive director of University Unions, the purpose is to save $122,000 annually. Juan Gonzalez, vice president of student affairs, said “while the students understand the loss, they also understand there are higher priorities, and to direct services to students, I think, is the higher calling.” Yes, Andy and Juan are leaders who understand the higher priorities of the Texas Union’s glow-in-the-dark bowling. Why provide education and life enrichment through Informal Classes when there is the inspirational higher calling of air hockey tables? True, the Cactus has launched the careers of many musicians, and the Austin economy benefits from their success, but once the Cactus is removed, and there is more convenient access to a Taco Bell, just think how that will inspire and benefit Austin’s economy. Higher calling indeed! KELLER WILLIAMS AT Antone’s THIS Saturday, February 6thFebruary 1st, 2010 by Russ KELLER WILLIAMS IS ON TOUR THIS WINTER IN SUPPORT OF HIS NEW ALBUM ODD For more information please contact 512.320.8424 or visit bluegrassy fix at One world theatre with the traveling mccourysJanuary 31st, 2010 by Russ
Just about now, every year, when we are amidst of our 2nd or 3rd cold blast, I start to get the itch. Got my early bitd tickets to Old Settlers Music Festival. But that doesn’t suffice. I need that “Old-Timey Sound.” Bluegrass and nothing else will do. Essentially this is the DEL MCCOURY BAND WITHOUT DEL. On stage are: Ron McCoury on mandolin, Rob McCoury on banjo, Jason Carter on fiddle, and Alan Bartram on bass , with featured guests on guitar and vocals, is the latest incarnation of the most awarded band in the history of bluegrass -The Del McCoury Band. “Known for their individual prowess on their instruments and their rapidly expanding reputation as collaborators with the members of numerous musical icons from Vince Gill to the Allman Brothers, The Lee Boys and Phish, this touring unit blends the best of the Appalachian tradition with the improvisational magic of jazz. Unique live collaborations are the hallmark of their performances, and demonstrates why people across the country hail them as the best bluegrass band in the world.” I have seen these boys play many times with and without Del and am always blown away by the McCourys generational representation on stage.The McCourys name will surely live on in music for years. Seeing this gig at One World was awesome, up close and intimate.. Only problem; nobody was dancing until I closed my eyes. Katrina on Film and CanvasJanuary 28th, 2010 by Eric Swanson ![]() David Bates - The Deluge II David Bates since 1982: From the Everyday to the Epic David Bates, a Texan by birth and still a Texan by choice, makes art. In a way, Bates’ art is like the city of New Orleans: both can mean different things to different people. You may find it modern, yet others like the folksy charm, some enjoy its natural beauty, while others are drawn to its human emotions. Bates’ art is shown in New Orleans a lot, so much that I assumed he was from Louisiana at first. For New Orleans, a place rich in local culture, to welcome a foreigner like Bates into their museums and galleries speaks highly of the man’s work. Accolades also come from his home state, as seen in the Austin Museum of Art’s exhibition David Bates Since 1982: From the Everyday to the Epic. AMOA’s downtown gallery is filled with the different sides of Bates: folk art renderings of musicians, landscapes of nature preserves, still life magnolia blossoms, and cubist forms of cigarettes and Corona bottles. Bates’ brushstrokes have a signature style, and the same unique angular lines he puts down on canvas show up in his sculptures. In The Woodsman, Bates paints a life-size five-foot tall woodpile, no two logs alike, each one painted with subtle differences in color and pattern. The relationship between Bates and New Orleans comes as no surprise; the city is a famous haven for roots music, and Bates exalts this music on canvas via the imagery of musicians Clifton Chenier and Lightning Hopkins. People are the soul of any city, and Bates’ work shows a connection with the people of New Orleans. In the Katrina aftermath, Bates painted flooded landscapes and the faces of the citizens deluged by the federal levee failure. This recent Katrina series is worth seeking out. The AMOA exhibition is a sure bet, and the Ogden Museum of Southern Art in New Orleans has Bates on view in their permanent collection. The Ogden features The Storm, a series of three large panels, each one filled with a dozen life-size faces of flood survivors. My Son, My Son, What Have Ye DoneJanuary 22nd, 2010 by Magnus
TOPAZ & MUDPHONIC AND THEN SOULHAT IN PICS BY ROCKSLIDEJanuary 15th, 2010 by Russ THIS WAS SUCH A COLD NIGHT OUTSIDE. ROCKSLIDE AND I BRAVED THE ELEMENTS FOR THE AUSTIN DAZE. ON THE WAY HOME THAT NIGHT, I SAW 2 POLAR BEARS ON THE SOUTH CONGRESS BRIDGE! REALLY! The Lovely BonesJanuary 14th, 2010 by Magnus
Crazy HeartJanuary 6th, 2010 by Magnus Being a huge fan of the film, “Tender Mercies”, I entered the theater with a knot of trepidation firmly lodged in my stomach. The theater darkened, then this sweet music filled the room, and the inner nervousness melted right away. Red’s PorchJanuary 5th, 2010 by Magnus
Nine Wants Laughter!Love!Dreams!December 24th, 2009 by Bree
Then there are the weightier indications that perhaps the affair would not last. Read the rest of this entry » Waiting for Philip…December 22nd, 2009 by Bree
It was with great anticipation that I arrived at the press suite on a cold morning in Manhattan for the interview with Mr. Hoffman as part of a press junket for Pirate Radio, the British import comedy by Richard Curtis. I had been dreaming about this interview since I first got into this profession. Waiting for Philip, I even named it. In my dream we were sitting in a coffee shop in the West Village (a real diner-like thing not the cozy lounge ones they have now) getting to the heart of it. “When you say ‘panicky’, do you mean mortality?” I would ask. The wait was finally over with a round table for this press junket. And while I knew it wasn’t quite the same (15 minutes, one question each), it held the promise, the possibility, of getting to know the man behind the mythical beast. And then… He enters. Shackled and unwilling, taking a decidedly side-ward seated posture, dagger eyes and grimacing mouth erect and poised to keep us from him: Mr. Hoffman had brought the beast. We smile. He grunts. Battle lines are drawn. And it begins. The rules of engagement are this: 15 minutes, the beast willing to be tied down, each of us given a line of rope by which to tie him. It’s a handicapped advantage but only fair considering the match up. One by one we take our place. And with those dagger eyes, he dares us to take our best shot. Journalist number 1 fires confidently, “If your house was burning or whatever, what record or music would you absolutely have to take with you.” The beast’s eyes flicker with contempt. “I wouldn’t do it.” Waiting for her to feel the burn, he continues, “I would be thinking of other things. Like my family.” With this, he clenches his right fist, snaps the rope, sending it and the unsuspecting journalist through the window of the press suite. Impressively, she catches the corner of the sill, dangling but determined, “What about your favorite music? That you had discovered on the radio when you were growing up?” There is flash of submission, triggered by the memory of childhood. She seizes the opportunity to climb back into the room, taking her place -again, smartly abandoning what remains of the rope. “I like so many different types of music because all I really did was listen to the radio as a kid.” He tells an eager room. “I didn’t really buy LPs or go to concerts or-I wasn’t really a connoisseur in that way–I would sit in the back of the car and listen to the radio in the summertime. I was that kid. I was introduced to a lot of different type of music without any of it being shoved down my throat.” The second journalist, now his turn, fearlessly jumps in, “And yet interestingly, you have played two seminal characters who really understand the essence of rock and roll.” Nostrils flare. The beast’s head cocking abruptly to meet the assaulting voice, “‘Seminal’. I wouldn’t say ’seminal’.” He uses his newly freed hand to yank the rope leading to journalist number 2, momentarily amused by a game of human Paddle Ball, with one final swat, he plunges him through the walls of several neighboring suites. Those of us that remain unite in fear. The third one offers a huge beaming “nice kitty” smile for which the beast returns a mouthful of fangs, “What did you like or not like about living on the boat? Did you like living in those tiny little bunks?” Gleams of white daggers flashing, “I showed up two weeks after they had already been shooting so I missed out on the fun-I never slept on the boat.” We wait. Nothing. He is distracted by something caught in his front fang. She braves, “So you’re not a cruiser.” Removing what appears to be left over flesh, an earlier press junket perhaps? “I’ve never been on a cruise.” Silence. It takes a minute to realize the silence is mine. My turn. I’m Journalist number 4. Everyone waits. I readjust my hands around my rope, bracing for the snapping and flinging and bruising to come, “The first time I ever saw you perform was in Shopping and Fucking“, I quiver. “That was a long time ago.” I don’t hear this or anything else. The energy I have committed to my survival has rendered me deaf. “I find what you do to be exhausting.” I plod on, after what I imagine to be an appropriate response time. And then for the plunge, “Did you consider this role to be somewhat of a relief?” While he considers my question, I consider throwing the rope back to him and voluntarily throwing myself out the window. It would save us all so much time. His eyes narrow, seemingly undecided on whether to strike or stroke, he says, “It’s a real ensemble piece. So I think it’s part of that-you are sharing the burden which is kind of what the characters are going through anyway. I think the movie itself has an energy about it and they are looking to have a good time. Those guys are really truly funny guys so I didn’t have to do much. I kind of sat back and enjoyed myself most of the time.” Before my fate can be delivered, Journalist number 2 limps back into the room, white plaster stuck to bits of dried blood in his matted hair. “…And you really express that especially as the American that goes to England. What did you channel?” The beast seems amused by his resilience. Throwing him a bone, “These are very successful and fun characters to play because what they stand for is not a person but a meaning-what they identify with. That’s all they are. It doesn’t have to be about rock and roll. You can be passionate about anything.” Emboldened by the few minutes of calm, Journalist number 3 pipes in, “I understand you went to DJ school…” He whips around to greet her with a snarl, “They did that. Remember? I told you I didn’t get to the shoot until late-they did that-I didn’t get to do any of that stuff.” With a suicidal laugh, “So you did nothing for this role, basically!” she snorts. “Well, I did my own work.” He snorts back, mockingly. And with that, he grabs hold of her rope and pulls her towards him. He holds her body down, places her head between his forefinger and thumb, and twists it until it separates. Holding it up admiringly, he opens his mouth to swallow her still stupendously smiling head. Journalist number 5, horrified, begins to squeak, “Where does your passion and energy for acting come from?” The beast likes this question, enough so to forgo swallowing Journalist number 3’s head, tossing it instead into a corner of the room. “I don’t know. I first had a great passion for theater as a patron. When I was 12 or 13 I was a huge patron. I loved it. I just did. Why that is, I don’t know. So that’s what it really still is. How I got on the other side of it? I’m still trying to figure out whether that was a mistake or not. I mean that in a half joking half serious way because my passion was truly seeing and watching-going to the theater. I really believe it is truly one of the rare gifts that we have, that our culture could offer a person. I learnt at a young age, which that has a lot to do with me becoming my creative myself-whether it be live theater or film. Why I’ve directed and acted and why it hasn’t just been acting. I have an interest in the whole thing, I’ve been interested involved in things that will hopefully give people reason to go like I have reason to go. ” Is that a purr? The newly freed head rolls from one side to the next, trying to steady itself. Blood sputters from its neck, “How did you find the experience of being in Othello? It’s such a long play. What’s your secret?” He lifts his foot to stomp her out once and for all but then stops. He seems to be tiring, worn down by the relentless stupidity of it all. “There’s no secret. Long Days Journey into Night was longer than Othello. And then True West, we were on the stage for 2 hours straight and didn’t leave…” Exasperated, he crouches down, resting his large head on his hands, “It’s an incredibly complicated situation. It’s very alive and full of traps and successes and joy and sadness and inspiration and dead weight.” Retreating now, shutting us out to be with his self, to be somewhere else, anywhere else, “It’s an incredible thing.” Journalist number 2, sensing the moment of weakness asks, “You’re getting a lot of offers. How do you make the decisions about the plays and films you choose?” Aggression drains from the beast’s hulking body. He searches our faces for a hint of the human he has strived so hard to capture all these years. We offer him nothing. There is nothing left to fight. “It’s organic. It’s something…you know…it is life.” Almost pleading, “It just starts to make sense to you. It’s intuitive. All this stuff. How we all got here in this room, is intuitive.” Blank eyes blink in unison at him. Journalist number 3, “How do you see the difference between British humor and American humor?” There is silence. Then an exhaustive sigh of defeat. “I don’t know.” With that, a sacred publicist mountain dog escorts him away and I’m left still waiting. |