Rollin’ Deep In Austin, Texas (Soon To Be Part Of Canada)

Hey Fag Hound—I thought I’d give a recap of our South-by-South-Canada experience by eyes and asses of Team Chunklet. I also thought I would write it rather carelessly and not put much effort into it. In case, you didn’t know, this year’s theme was Canada! Instead of sleeve tattoos and Castro hats, the fashion was tattered, two-button, short sleeve shirts (some even surprisingly worn in the medium size as opposed to last years extra small). The ladies preferred the Readymade/Stitch ‘N’ Bitch-style homemade apparel wearing muted-colored ribbons and scarfs made of general lighter fabrics for the hot Austin climate. Everyone looked like extras in some Neutral Milk Hotel video that had never been shot. At least this year every dick-dipped douche bag wasn’t dressed like they were in the MC5 by way of the Mooney Suzuki.

Of course, Henry, Luther, and I once again refused to make peace with the SxSW press staff after having our badges revoked in 2003. We mostly mooched our way in to whatever we waned to do. Thankfully, I fucking hate music and didn’t wait in line to see anything. The Chunklet Invades Austin party was our main deal anyway. A bunch of bands played that I had seen probably 15 times each so I didn’t watch any of them. Mostly, Henry and I ate pizza on the curb and talked about which humans at the festival should be murdered first.

David Cross hosted the first day and there was a 300 deep line to get in. Cult of Indie Personality will get you everything in this world or at least at SxSW. Unfortunately for those of any notable status, one thing unappealing to take in was the pussy–as there was little worth having. I mean homely was the color of my vomit this year. It was all under 25 year old girls high on carbs who would rather be read to than fucked.

The line went around the block for both days. Honest!

Luther filmed Tim from Les Savy Fav and I as rock narcs in Rollin’ Deep skits for I was too lazy to look at before hand and had no idea who they were or what they do. I think some of it may have been funny. I planted a bong on stage while the Gossip were playing. Henry was mostly being hounded for free shit or to get someone’s gimp-ass friend into the show so I saw little of him on Saturday.

The second day was the same as the first, minus David Cross and minus Patton Oswalt who had to cancel due to having to film the final episode of Kings and Queens which approximately pays $15,000 — the amount we would have for him to MC the event. Thusly we forgive him for the cancellation. It was hectic for Tim and I to do more filming with Luther due to the fact that between us, we played 12 shows in 2 days. We did try to sell drugs by yelling on 6th St., “Who wants to buy some drugs!”

Worst of all, was that Saturday was also the Frat Boy National Holiday called St. Patrick’s Day so every meathead was stupidly shit-struck drunk and listening to people play god awful, lilting 6/8 rhythms on accordions and other annoying instruments. Worst of worst of all was those droning ass bagpipes which resonated like a bad headache inside an earache. Where is a good potato famine when you need it?

Syd from Les Savy Fav right before their set at Red 7…

Okay, to wrap up. SxSW blew as usual, and it was an absolute waste of time not counting the cool shirts Henry made for the Chunklet staff. No bands broke; it was only old people reforming their glory days, goodtime bands. We did learn Canada would soon invade the US and win. Also, your shitty band went another year  without getting signed. Bad music pervaded every nook of every nook and cranny, and I generally was let down by friends who were suppose to hang out with me. In short, a complete bust of a time. Oh yes, this was my 14th year in a row attending SXSW, so you’re dead right for thinking that I am indeed a complete a fucking moron.