Hosted by Austin Classical Guitar, Austin Pictures (October 1st, Moody Theater) celebrates our city’s rich artistic tradition by highlighting the intersection between three mediums under one, unifying theme--Austin and Central Texas. Each musical piece, picture, film and mural highlights an aspect of the region. For example, a new piece by Austinite Joseph William II, named for the event, consists of five movements: Hill Country, Floating on Lady Bird Lake, Dance of the Grackles, Violet Crown with Cicadas and Capital City Construction.

Guests will have the chance to view the paintings by young local artists in the gallery before the show begins. Led by Austin Symphony conductor, Maestro Peter Bay, Act I is the world premier of Austin Pictures and will feature a 100-member guitar orchestra composed of musicians from the nonprofit’s school programs playing alongside the Miró Quartet. Following the piece is a 12-minute film about the painters who created the art showcased in the gallery. Act II features renowned classical guitarist Jorge Caballero and the Miró Quartet. Act III places the spotlight on Caballero as he performs Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition.  

“At it’s heart Austin Pictures is about promoting an arts-rich lifestyle in Austin,” Dr. Matt Hinsley, Executive Director of Austin Classical Guitar, said. “We’re bringing together members of our diverse community through art, music and film. The world class professionals along side of distinguished students artists will create an evening that will be both entertaining and inspiring.”

Tickets are on sale through AustinPictures.org.

Passions

I’m passionate about words. How each word consists of letters in a sequence that, when the order is correct, conjures an image in ones mind like a magician pulling a rabbit out of a top hat. I love that they have a history, and I’m not referring to their etymology. I’m talking about the personal meaning of a word to each person. Take “hippopotamus,” a word according to the OED that means “a large thick-skinned semiaquatic African mammal, with massive jaws and large tusk.” But when I hear “hippo,” I start to sing the ludicrous carol about a little girl wanting one for Christmas. A water-wallowing beast fitting down the flue—imagine that! Absolute madness.

Words are powerful stuff. Four letters spell the difference between love and hate. They have the power to give hope, declare war, and to celebrate Christmas on a blazing summer afternoon.

Brit and Nicki at @ the 2011 Billboard awards

Dear Britney,

The only reason I sped through the DVR recording of the Billboard awards was so I can see you perform with the infamous (at least in the high school set) Nicki Minaj. Your 45-second performance, if you call walking down the stage lip syncing your new single, a "performance." I mean, I was expecting a little watermelon-watermelon action since lip syncing is the standard for you, but where was the glitter? Where was the attitude? Where was the showmanship that I love you for? The billing played up the circumstance, but you were sadly missing the pomp.

You looked uncomfortable, like you stepped on some boo-boo. Check out that fake smile.



Perhaps you were worn out after your opening romp through Rihanna's hit single S&M. I mean any person would be tired after a pillow fight involving whips and chains. But you're not a normal person--you're Britney! Anyone who saw the show could see Rihanna was the main domme in that set, not you.

Love,
your disappointed Resalin

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.

Ola Podrida

I don't know how I found the time but I actually wrote a story...sorta.

The following is an excerpt of my Q&A with David Wingo of Ola Podrida. Read the full story on The Deli Austin.

What’s the difference between writing music for film versus writing music for Ola Podrida? Obviously, it seems like you have less freedom doing soundtrack work because of the script, but in terms of the creative process, is it the same?
I try to make the core of it the same. It reminds me of doing art projects as a little kid in school. You’re given supplies and tools and you’ve got to make something. It’s a totally different process but still gratifying in its own way. You’ve got to take a few tools to make something that can make a wide array of emotions pop. However, I do think that it has helped me with my own stuff because I’ve learned to have a single-minded focus and to not use the blank canvas to my advantage. I have parameters now. I’ve learned to gauge what the song needs. It’s helped to maintain the “less is more” aesthetic for sure.

If Belly of the Lion was a movie, what would it be about?
I think this album would be about a weird, oppressed teenage kid in the suburbs doing what he can to have a bit of freedom in the claustrophobia while trying to meet girls and doing some drinking in the process.

Holy crap: Taylor Swift beat George Strait.

Not that I'm agreeing, but she sure is cute (and tall!).



Maybe she won because in our complicated world, where so many empty and useless words are said, we yearn to listen to someone singing--plainly and frankly--what we don't have the guts to say.

Hallway romances, heartbreak, and true love--it's what we live for.

Thanks Taylor.

In yo' face Kanye.

Hipsteria: The Mohawk

But here is where Too Short left with female co-eds and tequila bottle in hand. Here is where Michael Stipe (REM) supposedly puked his guts out.


“[Stipe] needed to go to the bathroom,” Moody said. “He was on the roof deck and it was jam packed with people so I asked an employee, an ex-Marine, to help Stipe. Not knowing that Stipe is a frail, nervous guy—grabs him and says ‘Come with me dude.’ He puts [him] in a headlock and starts yelling: ‘He’s gonna puke! He’s gonna puke!’ The crowd cleared out and Stipe got to the bathroom. For the longest time, the rumor was that Michael Stipe puked in the Green Room at the Mohawk.”

Jump to the Deli Magazine Austin for the full scoop.






(It's not my best work but I'm going to pull the over-worked teacher card now and I'm sure it won't be my last).

"New Moon" Soundtrack

I will probably see the movie but I will definitely buy the soundtrack.

Bon Iver & St. Vincent? Thom Yorke? Are you fucking kidding me? Yes please.