SXSW Recovery

Looks like we made it. After working ten consecutive nights (and days!) at a rock club during South By Southwest film/music festival my ears are ringing, my dogs are barkin', my shoulders aching, my fingers bleeding, my legs leoparded with bruises, my mind numb with lack of sleep and my liver whimpering for mercy.

You forget how lovely clean bathrooms are, baby kisses, sitting down, fresh produce, more than 5 hours of sleep, sandals, airwaves not vibrating with bass, breakfast. That being said, with our small crew and heavy load it was something like bartender camp where we had feats of strength and endurance, lots of team building and cooperation, sharing of snacks, doing favors, horseplay, running jokes and delirious giggling at 4am trying to count boxes full of soggy one dollar bills without falling asleep. You know the tired sillies, when saying "cranbaby juice" in a vato voice instead of cranberry can take five minutes to recover from.

It's tons of work, tons of fun, your body takes the toll and your winter bills are paid with enough left over- if you're lucky, for a couple of shiny new records and a sushi dinner. I think this year I'll spring for glasses without a fog of scratches and a craigslist loveseat. sigh. I had hoped to bring a camera to work to capture the lines of hipsters wrapping around the block, my increasingly bizarre barmaid fashion (an amalgamation of messy up-dos, dark jeans or thick running tights to protect your legs from injury and to hide splashed beer and unshavedness, feathers, sleeveless everything for ease of reaching and slinging, tall apocalypse boots, headbands made of my own hair, necklaces of buffalo teeth, fire engine lipstick so your smile goes a mile, always a towel in your pocket and a blade in your paw) some amazing music, tall stacks of benjamins and the general mayhem. I'm especially sad we didn't get photo proof of the armchair complete with foot rest the barbacks made entirely out of cases of Guinness black lager.

Oh yeah, I guess I could talk about music or something. I was so swamped opening thousands of bottles for people with accents who said 'cheers' instead of thank you I barely had time to notice the bands, aside from sneaked 1 minute breaks and the odd sound check. There were some pretty big names in town, Arcade Fire, Fiona Apple, Jay Z, Norah Jones (performing in her Willie Nelson cover band "Little Willies) Lil' Wayne was scheduled to not perform, but skateboard?? at my work with attendees Snoop Dogg and one of the top 5 world skateboarders- sponsored in an over the top fashion by Mountain Dew (oh the green shwag we were cleaning up for days) but I guess the half pipe never made it so neither did the ballers. I'm so glad that was my night off. Did I mention the Boss? Bruce Springsteen! Even Ruby and Matilda rocked out cute style to M. Ward and Skrillex. (pictured above)

Local boy Matthew McConaughey was out and about, talking about his slew of new films including controversial play adaptation of "Killer Joe". Read an interview with him HERE. He came to Club DeVille to catch the end of Pennywise and though I don't have a celebrity chasing bone in my body, I will admit- that man is a stone cold fox and I can't believe he's in his 40s.

DeVille also had an impressive line-up. Though divey and unreliable the rest of the year, SXSW is our time to shine. With our airy patio and epic limestone cliff as a backdrop for your most rock'n'roll posturing we attract some of the bigger acts and swankier parties, putting the grimy dark claustrophobic clubs of 6th street to shame. I wish I could remember half the bands that played this year, but a couple that I liked a lot were We Were Promised Jetpacks, Off, Dan Deacon, Sarah Jaffe, and of course our old friends the Midlake boys with Grandaddy's Jason Lytel performing as "Grandlake".


Speaking of stone cold foxes, I missed all of Evan's shows this year, but I'm sure they were awesome.

Everyone's arm.

Bathroom graffiti.

The view from my window, people crowd surfing during the day! Dan Deacon knows how to bring the party, he's a fantastic geeky genius. Watch a segment of his set at the Mohawk HERE.

A clever friend of a friend made this accurate, but not to scale map of Austin.

We knew when we couldn't get through to Chinatown for our lunches that it was time to leave the phone off the hook.
"Club DeVille."
"Um yeah, who's playing today?"
*click


Andrew WK was sitting in my well in his filthy white jeans and telling everyone who stepped up to tip more.
AWK: "Did you just get three beers?"
kid: "uh, yes."
AWK: "you tip three dollars. Do it. That's how it works."
me: "You're hired!"

Five minutes later he punched a guy on the patio for berating a family with children for bringing them to a music festival. The cops were called but I think he escaped. I also think he's my hero.

Be smart. Ride a bike.


Midlake playing with Jason. They played the old hits and even a handful of Midlake's own songs to make up my favorite (and record breaking) night at Club Deville EVER. We rounded it out with a huge dance bonanza led by celebrity dj Danny Masterson (Hyde from that 70s show). No footage was taken that I know of but here's a song from a different night to give you an idea of the greatness:



It's not a festival without cops and ambulances. The streets were closed to cars for three whole days for the glut of music loving zombie foot traffic. Also? LAZERS.

Okay I know I said I don't chase celebrities but I sure wish Bill Murray would come fake bartend at my place like he did at my friend's bar last year. Here he is a couple of days ago pictured with my ecstatic friend Richard Galloway.

Man or Astroman?

The end.



*most photos taken by my friends