Summer Sessions, July 10, 2010

Summer Sessions at the beatific One World Theater Saturday night was a dance party made better by the gorgeous view, art, cocktails in the gallery. There were a couple of surprises; one being that Cowboy and Indian (and Rider) never saw the stage but was banished to the gallery. Their balanced harmonies and costumes managed to steal a handful of fans from the sunset, the art, and the bar in the opposite corner. L.A.X* began in the upstairs theater soon after Cowboy and Indian dismantled, followed by the headliner.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, the Black and White Years,” and with flashing red lights, the band launched into a set that got the hipsterati to pause their photo opps and do what they drove out to Bee Caves to do: dance.

For a solid hour pulses climbed as blood pumped by an ecstatic collective heart, which had napped through the preceding acts, was finally awakened by shuddering guitars, thunderous drums, and frantic yips from lead vocal Landon Thompson. His stage presence is goofy but dangerous. Nervous, maniacal giggles and the glare of stage on Thompson’s thick glasses transformed him from mere mortal to demon nerd hopped up on prescription study aides; guitar as his pitchfork. Up-tempo grooves spanning their work induced brownian muscle spasms among the crowd and band. Scott Butler’s twisting grew in proportion to the accelerated thumps coming from Billy Potts’s drums during Steady as it Goes, the climax of a frantic set. It wasn’t until the first song of their encore, Broken Hand, that the band slowed, but only for the verses.

*The second surprise was more of a disappointment. What may have been a nice warm-up turned into a Charlie horse as L.A.X was overshadowed by their own theatrics and over Autotuning.

An excerpt from "The Vegan Affair"

"But symbolism aside, there’s nothing carnal about kale and chickpeas. Brown rice is not sexy even when spiced up with quinoa (keen-wah). FYI, the childhood rhyme about a bean’s side effects is still true in your twenties. Gastronomically speaking, nothing says “lets just be friends” more than a vegan macrobiotic lunch."


Hungry for more? Visit waiting4johnmayer.wordpress.com

The Mercers @ The Parish, 7/3/2010

The Mercers don’t need pillow talk as foreplay or to supplement their sound. Without pomp and circumstance, the four members took their positions and filled the Parish Saturday night with thrashing guitars and keening wails. While two fans expressed their enthusiasm with manic turns and leaps, most showed their appreciation with gentle sways and bobbing heads. More joined the dance party (albeit not as extreme as the spinning duo monopolizing the dance floor) as the waves from the speakers grew stronger, climaxing around lucky number seven.

The Mercer’s sound is like contained liquid bubbling over itself: the only thing keeping it from spilling over is the tension and attraction between individual molecules. Peter Wagner’s voice—evocative and resonant; ethereal and redolent—is backed by driving beats from drummer Ethan Herr and bassist Bryan Ray while synthesist Erik Ray adds ornamental flourishes like the jangling of a tambourine in between sips of Lonestar beer.

The set was comprised of tracks from their full-length album Pretty Things Walk as well as their two EPs, Hovercraft and the recently released Giant. Their new song "Urgency" was welcomed by the crowd, though the two improv dancers were shown the door before the Mercers delivered their rendition of the Genesis song "Abacab".

Scene--Vietnamese restaurant

An Asian woman and her baby eat dinner in a vinyl booth. The baby’s hairs stand on their ends and form an electrified black halo. In a few years the strands will lay flat and form a shiny sheath like her mother’s. Mom keeps a hand on the high chair at all times should the wriggling child slither to the cement floor. Sometimes she gives the baby rice and lettuce, more as a distraction than food. Tiny hands fling the scraps to the floor. With her free hand, she alternates between siphoning water into the child’s mouth with a straw and taking bites of her meal. Finally, she unsnaps the buckle and sits the baby on her lap. Mother and daughter coo at each other for a few minutes before she signals for the check.

Saturday night with Vampire Weekend

This week, my friend Bailey surprised me with recycled tickets to the sold out Vampire Weekend show at Stubb's as a thank you for taking him to Fun, fun, fun fest.

I went thinking that the band wouldn't live up to the hype; I went thinking that the crowd lining Red River waiting to get in would be disappointed; I went thinking that my friend John, who claims VW is "the real deal" would be really wrong.

John, you were right. They totally killed it. The video clip doesn't do it justice but the crowd throughout their set covering their eponymous album and the more recent Contra was enthusiastic at the least and damn rowdy at most (Bailey's spilled drink can attest to that).

I'd see them again fosho.

After the jump:

Dudemen.

Y'all may or may not have realized this, but my presence in the blogosphere has been spotty if not absent in the last months. My new career as educator and taskmaster has kicked my ass.

But, as I sit at my teacher desk on a Friday night, I see a glimmer of hope...summer. I feel it; my skin crawls with the craving for stretches of time when I answer to no one but me--"Resalin"--not "Ms. Rago" or "Rago." My first name has never sounded so good.

To get us ready for my birth season, here's my new favorite single, Rocket by Goldfrapp. I believe it's appropos.

The Walkmen

They're here, among the many leather-clad musicians clogging up Austin streets. I didn't catch any of their SXSW 2010 sets but I'll make sure to buy a ticket next time they're in town.

Hope you enjoy "Canadian Girl" as much as I do.

"Wait....they don't love you like I love you."

I just now found this as I was falling down the cyberspace rabbit hole known as youtube.



I love the amped version but this one gave me a new perspective. While the original is full of angst and violent desperation the tone here is resigned and lonely.

xoxo, Lola and Resalin

Now that's love--warm, surprising, fuzzy, and sometimes, slobbery.

Song three: "Help me make it through the night"

Let the devil take tomorrow, because tonight I need a friend.
Today is dead and gone, and tomorrow is out of sight,
And it's bad to be alone,
help me make it through the night.

Song two: "Something" by the Beatles

Because sometimes you know without understanding why.

"One of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you."

Black, knee-high, with a two-inch heel, I bought my rubber boots to repel the slick wet rain. What I didn’t realize, as I left the store with my purchase, was that my practical boots were going to be a selling point to the opposite sex.

All kinds of men—not just kinky boot lickers—pay homage to the rubber boots as they stomp by.

On dry carpet, with caked mud smeared on the side, the boots are dull and lifeless. I can’t figure out why they’re such a turn-on.

But maybe they love them because I love me in them.

There’s power embedded in the soles. I feel it tingling my toes, shimmy up my leg, and settle in my hips, making them sway, side to side, as I stride away and leave them staring, fascinated by the girl working her boots, who’s going, going, gone.

"Africa"

Because it's that season--the dreaded time of year when society grudgingly or cheerfully celebrates love and all its trappings--I've decided to post a love song every day until the 14th.

Enjoy (or not).

The first one:



It's catchy and upbeat keyboards make me feel like I just saw my current crush(es) headed my way.