Nothing officially going on right now. But I will be submitting a short film I made with Rich Eckersley called “Filling the Hole” to several film festivals, including SXSW, and hopefully to SlamDunk, New York Gay and Lesbian, and New York Underground. I’ll let you know if anything happens.

We want to attend Park City in January but all of that is still pretty tentative. I’m guessing that it won’t happen this year.

Hollywood Rat Race – Ed Wood

Generation X – Douglas Coupland

The Hollywood Reporter Book of Box Office Hits – Susan Sackett

Steven Reich – Music for 18 Musicians

Beck – Sea Change

Ben Lee – Breathing Tornadoes

Bobby Bare – Greatest Hits

Manatee – Music is Useless

Sphongle

Elton John – Songs from the West Coast

Super Troopers

Waking Life

12/5 – The Ataris – Emos

12/6 & 12/7 – Udo Kier at the Alamo Drafthouse

12/7 – Pink Swords - 710

12/7 – Kissinger - Stubbs

12/12 – I Love You but I’ve Chosen Darkness – La Privilege

12/13 – Flametrick Subs – Emos

12/13 – Manatee – Backroom

12/13 – Sniffy - 710

12/14 – Pong - 710

12/15 – Dave Mason – One World

12/18 – Cruiserweight – Emos

12/21 – Pong - Emos

12/27 & 12/28 – The Scabs - Antones

12/31 – Ian Moore – Lazona Rosa

12/31 – Bob Schneider/Reckless Kelly - Antones

12/31 – Robert Earl Keen – Austin Music Hall

12/31 – Vallejo – Steamboat 12/31 – Unsane – Emos

12/31 – The Killer Bees – Flamingo Cantina

The Emperor’s Club

Friday After Next

Comedian

Rules of Attraction

The Happiness of the Katakuris

8 Crazy Nights

1. Yak Package

2. Luke’s Length

3. Blood Machine

4. Queen of the Box

5. Blood Box

I wrote a lot of stuff during the Austin Film Festival in October and that really wore me out. You know, there are two Lodgers, there’s the one you know from reading this and/or seeing me on TV and out being a scenester. And then there’s the working his day job, dealing with reality Lodger. It isn’t always fun to be the latter. And after a high like the Austin Film Festival, where I get to experience the best of being the “cool” Lodger, going back to being the ordinary, average Lodger isn’t quite so much fun. So, I mention this because I’ve been feeling pretty blah lately and I haven’t written much because I just haven’t been in the mood. I have had some amazing experiences lately, so I will try to cover the basic highlights of the last month or so.

Rick Linklater is set to helm Jack Black in a comedy called “School of Rock.” Anybody know anything about this one? Will Rick film this one in Austin? (Seems doubtful). Is it already in the lens? In the can? I haven’t heard anyone talking about this film. It’s already slated to be released in the heat of the summer of 2003, however.

Linklater is also supposedly starting this project where he will film the same actors as the same characters over a series of several years for a film not to be completed until several years into the future. Sort of a narrative, fiction-based version of Michael Apted’s “7-Up” series.

Does anything look gayer than “Dare Devil?” Ben Affleck is gay. I’m sorry. I don’t mean that in a bad way or anything. It’s just that he’s playing an action hero in a latex rubber suit and his jaw, which is just about all you can see when he’s in costume, looks as gay as hell. This movie looks dumb.

If I had to pick some movies due out before the end of the year that look really exceptional to me, “Catch Me if You Can,” “Adaptation,” “Confessions of a Dangerous Mind,” and “The Hours” all look promising.

Some “fun” movies that I’d like to check out include “Star Trek,” “The Hot Chick” and “Chicago.”

I can’t make up my mind about “Maid in Manhattan,” “Empire” or “Two Weeks Notice.” They seem just as likely to be crap as to be good.

By the same token, movies to avoid look like “Drumline,” “Antwone Fisher,” and “Gangs of New York.” I know Scorsese freaks (and there are way too many of them) are going to balk at the idea that someone, somewhere doesn’t want to see “Gangs of NY,” but that someone is me. It looks bloated, pretentious, stupid and typical. It looks like “The Godfather – The Prequel” or “The Godfather 1800” or something. I’m not interested. I suppose I’ll have to see it because someone somewhere will nominate something in it for an Oscar.

The best trailer I’ve seen in a long time was that for “Sex with Strangers,” the lukewarm “swingers” documentary that played at the Dobie here a few weeks ago. This trailer really made the film look sexy, exciting, interesting and titillating. It wasn’t really any of those things.

Melissa and I went to the Paramount on October 18th, the day after AFF ended, to see Laurie Anderson. This wasn’t one of her best shows, as it was the third time I’ve seen her, but it was still exceptional. A sort of “One Woman Show,” the piece, dubbed “Happiness,” featured Anderson at a bank of electronic keyboards. While simply seated and playing the most lush yet ambient non-music, Anderson told stories in her own inimitable style. She began the piece by coming out and playing an electronic violin. This was something she returned to only a couple times during the piece, once in the middle and once at the end of the program.

The stories were really interesting with a lot of them concerning the world, and in particular the United States and New York, in the context of life after 9/11. Since New York has always been an integral part of Anderson’s vision, this is not surprising.

Anderson has a wont of creating unusual performance pieces and art out of situations she creates in her daily life. For example, in the 70’s, she took a camera with her as she went around town and whenever a man made a sexual comment to her, something she found happening quite often in New York on the street, she stopped him and asked if she could take his picture. She used these pictures to create an art piece about this activity.

In more recent days, Anderson has attempted to put herself in unusual circumstances and living situations. This conscious attempt to put herself out of place led Anderson to spend some time with the Amish. This, of course, did give her some interesting stories to tell in her performances and one of the opening monologues here featured Anderson describing several days she spent in an Amish household during a rainy season. The story is quite interesting and ends with a typical Anderson’s trademark commenting on the poetic twist of existence.

In the story, when a grandmother comes to visit, she pesters the young Amish boy of the household, her grandson, for a kiss. Eventually tiring of her attention, the boy tells the grandmother that he will kiss her when they are in the living room. Later, in the living room, she demands the promised smooch and the boy relents. Here Anderson sees an important moment in this young man’s life, when he gives his first kiss - NOT as an expression of love or happiness, but as fulfillment of a contract, a payment. Anderson’s story reminds us immediately of the pressures we put on children that often lead to their loss of innocence, the thing we treasure most about them.

After the concert, Melissa and I hung out in the alley behind the Paramount. We were hoping to see Anderson leave the theater. This guy I met through my friend Kelly, who used to work at the Paramount, was there that night running the show. This guy is usually the stage manager of The State Theater. I told him we wanted to meet Laurie Anderson and he said, “Go to the alley after the show. I always send my stars to the alley.” (Afterwards we laughed our asses off about this).

The show was populated by a bunch of snobby, rich people who had probably never even heard of Laurie Anderson before and just came because it was the thing to do that night. They were fucking annoying. During the emotional climax of the evening, the lady behind me continually cleared her throat. I wanted to choke her! She’d have to clear my fucking fist out of her throat!

Whew… sorry.. So, anyway, we’re in the alley after the show and some people came out to smoke and there was one person that looked like Anderson but we were kinda too far away to tell. Melissa swears it was her and I actually think it was too but I just couldn’t force myself to go up and talk to her. (To be honest, she seemed kinda short) and I just didn’t want to spoil the illusion of Anderson in my mind. Melissa wanted to go up and see but eventually I explained to her that the story of probably seeing her was definitely much better than a story about meeting her ever could be. When we were spying on this person and trying to figure out whether it was Anderson or not, we tittered and giggled and got excited like a couple of school girls.

I haven’t been hanging out too much with friends lately. I’ve wanted a little alone time, really. I got kinda bored and frustrated with Ashton. Not because he wouldn’t put out, mind you. Well, yeah – okay, it was partially that. But not that he wouldn’t put out sex but rather that he wouldn’t put out any sort of real emotional friendship. He’s all cerebral and withdrawn. I can only deal with that for so long. Eventually my utter contempt for his lack of warmth and his humorlessness lead me to beat him severely with a pillow when we were hanging out in my room. He didn’t like this because the concept of “playing” or even goofing off is alien to him. He’s so myopic in his view of what consists of fun (mainly playing video games) that I just couldn’t take it anymore. I tried to laugh off my attack but there was an underlying anger and frustration there and we both sensed this. We haven’t talked much lately.

Melissa, meanwhile, has been working a little and seeing some guy. I am pretty bored with her too. I don’t know. It’s as much me as it is her. We’ve hung out a few times and went to a few movies and it’s been okay. Nothing really exceptional though. I guess I’m just not in a mood to hang out with friends lately. I do go through some emotionally intense periods of solitude of my own making at times.

Part of my boredom and lack of spirit comes from a recent trip I took to Iowa to visit some relatives. My dad comes from a big family and his mother, my only surviving grandparent, recently turned 90. I traveled with my dad all the way up to Iowa to visit her and, of course, there was a sort-of family reunion for the event (over 60 people)!

First and foremost, the two days on the road with my dad (up and back) was wearisome. We don’t have much in common but we managed to find things to talk about for the 36 hours we were on the road. We listened to a lot of old pop/country, like Bobby Bare, Jim Stafford and Johnny Cash, and this was really cool. I came home and downloaded a bunch of MP3’s from this genre. That was really cool.

While I was in Iowa, I got to hang out with my favorite cousin, Leslie, and her husband Nathan. They are big movie buffs too and, thanks to DVD and video, they can now see a ton of the same movies I see in theaters in Austin. They hadn’t even heard of “Waking Life,” though and that was a bit bothersome. We spent an entire evening talking about movies and getting drunk and that was pretty cool.

And I hooked up with another cousin that I had never really spent much time with, my cousin Jan. She is a tad bit older than me (a couple years) and that seemed like a huge thing when we were kids. Now we seemed to have a lot in common and I found her to be fun and sweet and cool and easy to hang out with. It was nice. I went to dinner with her and her husband and daughter and Leslie and Nate. Although their daughter is 12, they felt it necessary to warn her that she might her the “F” word several times in our conversation. Maybe they didn’t warn her about ole’ uncle Lodg, though. I really enjoyed sort of pushing the envelope and mentioning that the two best boyfriends I ever had were Mormons. Jan didn’t seem to think much of it, but her husband, who seems to be a little more conservative, had this funny expression and kind of eyeballs his youngster to see if he should be concerned about such talk in front of her. It was funny to see him sort of squirm and trying to process this whole concept and trying to figure out just exactly what to think about something like that being said out loud. It was slightly amusing to me. For what it’s worth, the charming young lady at our table didn’t even bat an eye at such things.

The most daunting and disconcerting thing that happened though reflects back to a few years ago when I attended my grandfather’s funeral. Again, this was sort-of a big family reunion. It was in December and cold as hell and many of us gathered at Leslie’s parents’ house to drink and talk on the night before the funeral. Since my grandfather was a somewhat religious man and not much of a party-er, some of the family was upset that we got together and drank. While at this party, I talked to some of my cousins, attractive but bland young men who also come from a large family. You know me, I flirted like hell with them. (These boys are in their 20’s). So, anyway, I found out on this trip that my aunt, their mother, was upset because I was “coming on to her sons” at her father’s funeral.

Now, really, this cracks me up. It’s fucking funny. But at my grandmother’s birthday this year, this aunt only said about two words to me. Her eldest daughters didn’t even speak to me. And, as I’ve always felt like an outsider around this group anyway, it bugged me. These people may be bland but they are my family. I want them to like me.

The deal is this: My family is important to me and I do like them and I do want them to like me. But many of them are such boring, lifeless, uninteresting people that I really wonder why I bother. Most of these people will be stuck in dull ole Iowa for the rest of their lives and will never ever begin to experience the real world. Even so, realizing, as an adult, that this is my family and that some of them just don’t like me was pretty depressing. I don’t know why I care but I do.

My dad is pretty much just like these guys, although more open-minded, I think. And I worry about being an embarrassment to him in this family setting too. I have always been weird and I have always felt like an outsider around a lot of these people. When you’re a kid, you don’t think too much about it. All I ever wanted to do was to get out of the small town mindset anyway and when I was 15, we moved to Houston, so I actually got to have a real life. Thank God. Otherwise, I’d probably still be stuck in my small town in the boonies and probably be the local “joke,” the most notorious local gay guy, like my old neighbor boy, Jack(ie), is now.

Anyway, speaking of Mormons (as I was a second ago), the whole local economy of the town I grew up in is now revitalized thanks to its close proximity to Nauvoo, Illinois. Nauvoo was a town that sort of acted as a stopping point for the Mormons in their quest to relocate to Salt Lake. I think the town was a settlement for a while and even where Joseph Smith thought that the Mormons should reside. But eventually they moved even further west to Salt Lake. At this point, Nauvoo became a sort of last stop of civilization before many Mormons headed across the Mississippi and into the Wild West. The town in Iowa where I grew up became quite large in population in the 1800’s because of this.

Anyway, the Mormons have re-established Nauvoo as a tourist attraction and historical site and lots of them visit there each year. This brings some money into the local economy, which was much needed. There’s even talk of turning the recently vacated Jr. High School, which I attended, into a hotel for Mormon tourists.

Anyway, on the way back from Iowa, my dad and I stopped in Louisiana to gamble. In the last 10 years or so, they’ve built some casinos on the rivers (or is ti lakes?) there… and on Indian ground. They Native-Americans have built a huge, Las Vegas style casino in the middle of the Louisiana wilderness called Grand Casino Coushatta. It’s really very nice, and opulent, and is just like a Vegas Casino. We stayed in the hotel that is part of the casino because my dad goes there often and they had offered him a free room. But there were problems. Here’s the letter I wrote them:

I was a guest at your hotel on Monday, November 4th and found it to be a rather unpleasant experience. I stayed at the invitation of my father, a somewhat frequent visitor to your casino and hotel. We were in room 449.

On the day we visited, the casino was experiencing some computer problems. I do not know what the extent of the problems was or when they effected the hotel computers. I did not check in for our party; my father did. He thought we had to check in before 4pm but he was misinformed. Check in did not begin until 4pm. We waited several hours to get a room and spent some time (and money) eating at the buffet and doing a bit of gaming. Later, he checked in while I got our belongings from the car.

After taking our luggage to our room, my father went back to the casino while I showered and freshened up. As I was standing getting dressed but still quite naked, the door to my room crashed open. Luckily, I had placed the “catch” over the latch. (I am unsure of what you call this device that only allows doors to be latched from the inside). I thought my father might be coming back unexpectedly early and scrambled to find a towel or something to cover myself. I shouted my father’s name but no one answered. I covered myself as best as I could, went to the peephole and saw a strange man, obviously also a guest, standing outside the door. I told him that the room was already occupied. He said that this was odd because they had given him a key to this room. He then said he would go to the front desk.

After my shock, embarrassment and rapid breath began to diminish, I called the front desk to tell them that a strange man had been given a key to my room. They girl who answered the phone apologized by saying, “I’m sorry.” I told her that she should be sorry, that it was quite embarrassing. Her response? “Thank you, sir.” Click. Hmmm. Polite but non-responsive, non-helpful and not nearly concerned enough for my liking.

Can you imagine how insecure I felt in your hotel after this happened? What if I had not been in the room? I realize you do not bear the full responsibility for my belongings when I stay with you. But what is your responsibility under the circumstances here, having GIVEN a key to my room to a stranger!?! What if it had been received by a dishonest person? What if my belongings had been gone through, not to mention stolen or destroyed? I shudder to think at how disquieting this notion is. What happened to me was a violation of my sense of security and privacy, without a doubt. But it could have been so much more problematic had the circumstances been different. God forbid! What if I had forgotten to securely latch the door? Can you imagine how embarrassing that might have been for me and the other guest!?!

To make matters even more unpleasant at your hotel, I was awakened at 7:30 in the morning on Tuesday by loud construction going on directly above my room. Perhaps you are a morning person. I am not. This God-awful disruption ruined my already tenuous appreciation of your establishment. How could this happen? I realize that we were staying free, as a guest of the casino, since my father visits so regularly. But what is the value of a free room when you cannot use it to rest comfortably and without concerns? There is no value in that. Zero.

No one told us there would be construction directly above our room during our stay. There were no signs to make us aware of this. How could that be? We had to drive 3 hours home to Houston that afternoon. What if we had not gotten enough sleep? (We didn’t). What if one of us had fallen asleep at the wheel from lack of rest at your establishment? How many people could have faced serious consequences due to your staff’s lack of concern and care?

I am not writing this letter because I want to be given something free. I am not writing this letter to vent. I am writing this letter to advise you of how horribly mistreated I felt in your hotel. My visit has shaken my trust of all hotels. I will never feel secure in a hotel room ever again.

This is sad too, because your hotel is one of the most beautiful and luxurious I have ever had the honor of visiting. I had gone to Coushatta a few years ago and didn’t care for its isolation and its smallness. This visit was a different story. The casino was large, opulent and as close to the Vegas experience as I could imagine. I enjoyed the slot games, the tables and even came home with a little more cash than I left with.

When people ask me about my visit, I will tell them that Grand Casino Coushatta is quite nice. The casino is beautiful, clean, well staffed and worth the trip. I will also tell them that they should, however, stay at a different hotel.

All I am asking from you is a letter explaining to me what security measures you are going to put in place to make sure that what happened to me does not happen to another guest at your hotel. The invasion of someone’s privacy is disconcerting enough, but the consequences of risking a guest’s security and the security of his belongings is unconscionable. There should be strict security measures in place to ensure that this NEVER EVER happens again – to anyone. (Where were they to begin with?) Please explain to me how you are going to make sure this is so.

I am looking for answers. Not excuses or apologies.

My roommates are into a lot of TV and video games. Somehow, recently, I have gotten into watching this WB show called “Everwood” with them. It has this really hot teenage boy in it. He was also in the movie “American Outlaws.” I think his name is Gregory Smith. I have kind of gotten into the habit of watching this show even though it is just as stupid as it is interesting sometimes. I mean, one episode can be quite good and the next one can be ham-handed and poorly written and really bad.

The worst thing about “Everwood,” however, is the use of an older black man as narrator. This voiceover dialogue is always poetic and down-homey (ala “The Waltons”) yet reinforces that stereotype of black person as “mystical” and “spiritual.” It is racism pure and simple. Still, I can’t help it. I like this show.

I’ve also watched a couple of “Gilmore Girls,” and although the dialogue can be way no unrealistic and “cutesy” in that sort of Douglas Coupland-esque way, I do like that show.

I didn’t think I’d like the show. Well, sad to say, someone who liked it tried to tell me how good it was but I pooh-poohed them. I can’t believe how good it is. Oh my god! I saw an old episode on the “Beginnings” reruns the other night where the girl, Rory, goes to her first dance with her new boyfriend, Dean. They fall asleep at night in a dance studio. This show had everything! I laughed. I cried. It was funny and witty. The dialogue was as sharp as a brand new tack. And the scenes involving Rory’s school and the dance were as much old-school novelesque as they were John Hughes. This show has everything!

Anyway, the only reason I bring this up is that I’ve been watching the WB a little bit lately and they had a commercial, a promo really, that just floored me. I guess the WB bought the rights to show “the Wizard of Oz” and they created this hilarious ad for their showing of the film. (Oh, it wasn’t intentionally funny). Imagine if someone wanted to create a spoof of a WB commercial for “The Wizard of Oz” and you get a general idea of what it was like. Scenes from the movie are underscored by a song from Moby – Moby!?!?! While the WB’s voice (whoever their regular announcer is) talks in mellifluous tones about the “classic masterpiece.” It’s just so fucking dumb. It’s like a spoof of the WB or something! What’s next? A showing of “Citizen Kane” with an ad for the showing featuring scenes from the movie in sepia tones punctuated by Coldplay’s “Yellow?”

In a recent Austin Chronicle, Marc Savlov laments a decision by Regal cinemas to place up to 20 or 30 minutes of pre-movie advertisements on their screens. Regal owns several theaters including the Westgate, Gateway and Metropolitan here in Austin. Other theater chains run ads before their films as well but 20 to 30 minutes worth does seem excessive. However, for one thing, these advertisements generate revenue for movie theaters. They help keep ticket prices down and help the theaters stay in the black financially. The theater business had a big scare recently when several chains went bankrupt and had to be bailed out. I don’t want to live in a world where theaters have to close their doors and cannot find a way to stay open. If they have to run 20 minutes worth of ads before a film to generate enough revenue to keep their doors open, so be it.

Now, there are several things to remember. Most importantly, this is pre-screen advertisement, meaning the film will start at its scheduled time, the ads run in the intermission between shows where people are coming in and finding seats. I go to movies a lot and often go alone. There is nothing more dull than sitting in a theater with no intermission music and no slide presentation. I wouldn’t be bothered by some mindless advertisements to occupy my mind while I wait for a film to start. It is better than silence in my book.

I’ve been to Elysium a few times recently but nothing of note has happened. Nor have I had anything particularly interesting happen at Casino when I’ve gone there. I’ve avoided the gay bars for fear of running into someone I know yet don’t want to see.

Oriah, the lead singer for my fave local band Hobble, made a buttons for me for the 100th Lube TV Episode party. These were a big hit as they featured a picture of John Christensen and some eggs. Oriah is making quite a name for himself as the king of 1-inch pins on the local scene.

I saw Hobble play at La Privilege a few weeks ago and it was one of the most disappointing shows ever. Not because of the band, mind you, they rocked as always, but the crowd was so lame. It sucked. Oriah rocked his ass off but the crowd just didn’t seem to get into it. The small stage and the smaller turnout may have been part of the problem. It just seemed so awkward.

But Hobble will always prevail. The guys are working on finishing up the mixes for their new album. Oriah tells me it will probably have only 18 tracks and clock in at less than 30 minutes. But “The Cowboy Song” and “78 Speed” will definitely be included. When we were hanging out at his place a few days ago, he was playing some of the new recordings for me and I actually caught myself singing along with Oriah (as he sang on CD) while he sat right next to me. I believe that was a brand new experience for me, singing along to a CD while the actual singer of the song was sitting right next to me. That fucking rocks!

I can’t wait for the new CD to be done. These guys are so primed to break!

Oriah also came to the Lube TV 100th Episode Party. I invited anyone I could think of who had been to on a Lube TV episode including some of John Christensen’s old friends and J.K. and Johnny Oh! I was glad J.K. didn’t come but I wasn’t going to be so petty as not to invite him. He was on several episodes and a big part of the show for a few months this year.

In addition to Oriah, Lube TV regs like Melissa, Mark Brauner, Trish the Dish, Alan Campbell and some others came. Even our friend Vassily, from Houston, made it down for the party. Some friends of Melissa’s, many of whom I’d never met, came as well.

My roomie Mike and I had went to the store and loaded up on beer and Smirnov Ice, so everyone was getting a buzz but the party wasn’t getting out of hand or anything. We taped Episode 99 before things got too busy and then I had Mark just tape bits and pieces here and there during the party for Episode 100. It seemed to me that if I didn’t do something to get something special for the episode going, no one else was going to do so.

We watched some clips from Lube TV that I’d put together and then ran John’s “Manifesto.” Everyone was having a good time. A few people were out on our front porch (which looks like the back porch) smoking but no one was yelling or screaming or fighting. There was no loud music outside. No one was doing anything all that crazy. This was a Saturday night. At 5 minutes after midnight, the assistant apartment manager, who hates us because we made her look like an idiot to her boss when we moved in, came over and told us we’d have to take it inside. My roomie Amanda refused to let anyone smoke inside, so people kept going out to smoke and soon there were a lot of people outside again. Then the cops came. This was at 12:40.

I was already pretty drunk and wearing my girl’s fur jacket vest. I had been wearing this cheesy, cheap tiara that Melissa brought part of the time. I don’t remember if I had it on when the cops talked to me or not. Anyway, it was really stupid. The cop was a complete asshole until I stood and calmly talked to him like a rational and intelligent person. He was sending everyone home, which was stupid, because he was basically instructing drunk people to drive, which is against the law, I believe. When I complained about this, he told me that this was what he does, he goes to a party and warns the people and if he has to come back, he issues a citation. I told him he had not been to my apartment before this evening, but he issued me a Disorderly Conduct – Noise citation anyway. We called the next day, it was $176 but I’m going to fight it because not only did the cop not warn us, but his rookie partner filled out the ticket totally wrong. She got the time wrong (0039 PM?), she put my roommates’ phone number in the slot for my occupation. I can’t imagine that this thing will go to court. It will get dismissed, but it is a pain in the ass to deal with it.

(I went to the court to get a court date to contest it and it hadn’t even been put in the system yet. They kept telling me to check the phone system to see if it has been entered and it still has not! Hmmmm….)

I went to see Manatee at the Flamingo Cantina last week. I got there in time to see the last two songs by Westbury Squares. They were really good. I’d like to see a full set by them sometime. I think they’re from Houston.

Also on the bill with Manatee were headliners Kissinger and Cruiserweight. I don’t know if someone in Manatee is related to someone in Cruiserweight or what, but they always seem to play together. I’d never stayed to watch them before, so I did this time. Plus Kissinger, one of my favorite Austin bands, (after Hobble and Manatee and Fuckemos) was also playing. And it was only five bucks to get in.

I had worn my furry girl’s vest jacket and a black T-shirt and jeans and felt pretty weird. The Manatee shows are always populated by the cutest, upper middle-class, white boys and girls and I was definitely the biggest freak in the bunch. Still, as usual, the ladies loved me! Many of them stopped to admire my wrap and many of them could not keep their hands off of me. I’m starting to get used to it. The Ladies Love Lodger!

Manatee is made up of 4 of the cutest little white boys ever to come on the scene. Lead singer Chris Vanlandingham looks like Joshua Jackson’s little brother and has a voice that seems like it was honed singing campfire songs at a Boy Scout jamboree. Guitarist Aaron Franco, surely the most drop-dead gorgeous of the guys, has a wicked smile and a jaunty stance and gets the crowd into the music by lip-singing the songs while Front Man Vanlandingham stabs at the air with his teenaged voice. Girls (and I) swoon when Franco comes to the edge of the stage. Sadly, at this show, Franco didn’t sing his one song where he does lead, “Phone Call to Dad.” That’s a shame because it’s one of the most honest and touching songs I’ve ever heard and Franco’s unassuming coyness and opened-vein honesty expressed while performing it usually makes me tear up a bit.

Drummer Chris Chalman and Bassist Austin Orand provide a beautiful and tight rhythm for Franco’s edgy and fresh guitar (he sounds inexperienced in the best possible sense of the word – the most crushingly naïve guitar work to be heard on 6th street on any given night). Orand, on occasion, creates a trademark for himself by screaming selected lyrics here and there but his vocals seem more a primal-scream-of-consciousness, release of tension and frenetic energy than anger. For a bunch of guys’ who probably won’t graduate high school until this summer, Manatee is one of the tightest and most got-it-all-together bands on the scene. Sloppy enough to be fun and talented enough to firmly entrench them on the road to superstardom.

Yes, Manatee played a short, tight, edgy and raucous set, as is their wont. The opened with two songs that almost always seem to go at the front of their set, “Torn Away” and “Little Sister.” I will stop here to bitch about this a bit, a problem that seems to come from their youth. They play their two best songs at the front of their set, before they’ve had time to get the groove working and before they have really kicked it into high gear. Granted, these songs ignite their shows with an immediacy and an energy that propels them (and the crowd) through the rest of their set, but I think they’d be wise to move one of them to the end. “Torn Away” would be a perfect showstopper for the band. Still, their set on this night was yet another magical annihilation of pretense bringing together a crowd of youthfully exuberant under-agers with some of the more jaded members of the older set.

Manatee had their CD on sale, so I bought it. It was only 10 bucks and it is one of the best first official albums by a local band to be found in any city. But they boys, who apparently produce here, make the same error as that of their set-list here as well. Since a record is much more solid and honed, the song “Torn Away” is perfect to kick it off. This is, after all, the obvious single. It’s track 9 on the CD. Why? It should be the first. I don’t get it.

The CD starts with a good song, no doubt, “A Sound to Spite the Silence.” A line in the lyrics of this song, “Music is useless,” provides the title of the CD as well. A good start but not the best choice they could have made.

As I listened to the CD, these thoughts hit me. Vanlandingham’s voice is amazing on record. He sounds young no doubt, but his voice is also raw and just enough to the left of commercial to make you prick up your ears. Beginning with Vanlandingham’s voice, moving through Franco’s natural teenage guitar riffs and dancing around the perfect balance of bass and drum, at perfect tempo, Manatee becomes the voice of the next generation, a group of youngsters about to break on the scene somewhere about 15 minutes into the future..

Manatee is the sound of suburban sprawl, of housing developments, of shopping malls, of video game infested young minds, of latch-key children, of broken homes, of sorrow and sadness and Saturday mornings in empty houses eating sugary cereal in front of the television. This is the sound of the next generation. This is the sound of what it’s like to be 17 right now! And it is immediate and jagged and sorrowful and scared. It is our little brothers and sisters allowed to stay up way too late, living with parents who would rather be friends than disciplinarians. But it is also the sound of despair drenched in hope. For somewhere in all the anger and hurt and black loneliness of Manatee’s music and Vanlandingham’s exuberant vocals is a spark of self awareness just beginning to emerge from youth’s supposed freedom. (“This is life/ This is life unconditional/ and we wait and we fade, then we’re gone/ and what’s left is a fairytale”). When Vanlandingham sings, in his voice is echoed a belief that if one simply acknowledges and inwardly knows who they are, things will work out. Manatee is the sound of a generation that has no choice but to cling desperately to the belief that if they need salvation, then they will somehow find salvation. It is the sound of raw teenage hope. And in a world infested with doom, anger, angst and boredom, that hope rings like a waking bell.

“Music is Useless” is full of the most important songs of this generation. “Little Sister,” another obvious single, may be about the separation of siblings as they grow older, but its self-conscious refrain of “We’re all waking up to houses all alone/ where has the time gone/ We’re all waking up to houses all alone/ where has everbody gone” is as immediate and expressive of a generation in flux as the first line of Alan Ginsberg’s “Howl.”

Franco, who writes several of the bands best songs (which also explains his adorable lip-singing to them while on stage) is a mighty crafter of pop lyric verse. Another key example of how his words reflect this generations fear and awareness comes in “Saturday Morning,” another song destine to be a huge single. “I was unprepared/ I’m still in cartoon underwear” Vanlandingham’s vocals on this perfect line expresses both boy and man, both child and adult. We see the confusion and fear that accompanies coming of age but also the honest, raw emotion of youth. This perfect marriage of lyrics and singer is destine to propel this band to the forefront of the Austin scene. Within moments, they will break huge.

“Phone Call to Dad, 1am” is here as well and Franco breaks away from his sidekick persona to bring forth a replica of his naturally honest, raw and deep voice, basking in adorable coyness, to make the song even more beautiful. Vanlandingham sings background here and the intermingling of the deep, darkness and shyness of Franco tone banked against Vanlandingham’s nearly cherubic echoing of the lyrics is simply beautiful. Not only does Vanlandingham seem to have Franco’s back when he is at his most vulnerable emotionally and honestly, he helps to somehow hold him up in every sense of the word. This song is just so meaningful and beautiful. So honest. It personifies much of what Manatee is really all about, Franco’s honest brooding juxtaposed against Vanlandingham’s optimistic yet brutally honest timbre. (“We will make mistakes and we will pay for them.”) All of this is at times punctuated radically by the primal screams of Orand frustrated anger. These elements, sprawled out perfectly against the amazing pop-rock craftsmanship of the music is simply awesome to hear.

“Torn Away” provides Vanlandingham and Chalman a chance to prove they can be just as effective as Franco while writing lyrics and Orand a chance to prove likewise as the musical composer. This song is so raw, so primed, so energetic. Yet it’s theme, of isolation, of despair, of loneliness, is so universal to the experiences of youth that it is poetic. This is yet another pointed example of Manatee’s ability to rock the house down musically while providing words and themes lyrically that are much more dark, reflective and honest than any of their contemporaries. This band has something to say and their attractive appearance and musical talent far beyond their apparent years are simply the tools they are willing to use to get the message out. (Too bad they didn’t include a photo of the band in the rather lame album packaging. The cover by Ben Aqua makes them look like an electronic trance band).

If there is any doubt after seeing them live and hearing “Music is Useless,” that these are nice boys, one only has to note that the accomplished cello playing that underscores “Nebutol” and “Someone Else” is credited to Mrs. Kay Vanlandingham. This nepotism in reverse is one of the sweetest things to be seen in rock music. And it doesn’t hurt that these orchestral touches perfectly accent the songs in which they appear.

Manatee is a band poised for greatness and picking up “Music is Useless” will be proof that you were in on the bandwagon long before the others. This is one fucking Austin rock record that is going to be a collector’s item some day! Let’s just hope the guys remember where they came from.

Happy Holidaze

Lodger 2002

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