Monday, February 25, 2008

She's In Love With The Boots

I had the great fortune to meet Trisha Yearwood earlier this month. She was singing for about 30 people crowded into a listening lounge in Austin's Clear Channel offices. While we were talking after the show, I couldn't help but drool over her Old Gringo boots.

Trisha (aka my new BFF) recommends having boots handmade to your own feet at M.L. Leddy's in Fort Worth. Personally, I'd go just to pick up some new chaps. "As stylish as they are functional."

Confession: In my "research" for this post, I might have developed an unhealthy attraction to these OGs because they are great and awful at the same time. Lord, please help me to resist.

Friday, February 22, 2008

The Austin Music Scene

it's all so true:

DON'T CALL YOURSELF AN AUSTIN MUSICIAN UNTIL YOU'VE...
By Michael Corcoran
AMERICAN-STATESMAN STAFF
Monday, January 28, 2008

At the end of the year, I decided to not rank the nationally acclaimed "Shepherd's Dog" by Iron and Wine as an Austin album. I&W's Sam Beam might live in the area, but he's not truly an Austin musician. Neither is Kina Grannis, the "Crash the Super Bowl" finalist, who moved here after graduating from USC in May. Bill Callahan, who used to call himself Smog, is no more an Austin musician than Bob Mould was in the '90s. It takes more than a ZIP code that starts with 787 to truly be considered a hometown musician. Use this guideline to tell the difference between a musician who lives in Austin and an Austin musician:

Sorry, but you're not an Austin musician until ...

... you've played at either Emo's, the Hole in the Wall or the Continental Club.

... you've been rejected by SXSW.

... you've opened for Guy Forsyth.

... you've been ticketed for double-parking on Sixth Street while unloading your gear.

... you know your order without looking at the menu of the Tamale House No. 3.

... you know who Paul Minor is. (Bonus points if you know exactly what it is that he does.)

... David Cotton won't return your calls.

... you've looked forward to playing out at the airport because at least that gig pays.

... you are a 94-year-old blues legend. (Pinetop Perkins exemption.)

... you've snuck a case of beer out the back door after a gig.

... you've had your name misspelled on the Red Eyed Fly marquee.

... you've worked double shifts at Thundercloud to save money for studio time, put your heart and soul into every track, proudly mailed your first CD, your baby, to critics, then watched Jim Caligiuri give it half a star in the Chronicle.

Tuesday, February 19, 2008

A Heart Breaks