Off the Avenue

*photo by Jon Strymish

This one is coming to you from my new home in (south) Austin, Texas.

I sit here with a cup of some of the best coffee I have ever tasted and I am still surprised to be here and not in Camberville/Sombridge making plans to have margaritas with you tonight.

I have been out a few times in Austin, and so far I have found that the food and cocktails alone have justified the move. (!)

Now because you are dying to know... the live music here is fine. There are a lot of places to find it, and in just a tiny fraction of time, I have seen a handful of genius players at work.

I think anyone who treasures the musicians along Mass Ave like I do will agree that it is not just that it is a talented songwriter/player community. It is this along with who they are; people that if I were the weight of a sack of (red bliss) potatoes, I would run and jump into their arms when I see them. I would climb them like the oak trees that they are. (inspired by the famous words of Jess Tardy, "I'd like to climb him like a tree.") They are friends to love.

You never move to a new city and expect that you will find a replacement for everything you left behind. My psychotic loyalty is your assurance. I cannot imagine sinking down into the refuge of a place so beloved to me as the Lizard Lounge is, and seeing anything like a Dinty Child sitting among the SA setup, tuning up one of the dozen instruments they use up there.

In case I am unclear, I am happy and loving my new city. I am satisfied with having found a true love in the Cambridge music scene. There is not an equivalent to be discovered Anywhere on the planet, at least not for me. I did not move to Austin specifically to hear more/better/different music, I came here to discover more of me.

You who know me know this: my passion for what I love does not run out or stop functioning. I am in it. I will admit, and appear silly (because I am) and tell you that when I think about having cutoff my musical access to Tim Gearan and Duke Levine, I instantly plummet into stubborn, silent weeping. Rose P is not going to sit here and play her new song for me either, is she. So in the meantime, I just text Sean Staples. Because he oversees it all for me, and will undoubtedly text me back.

I need a warm-up for this Oaxaca blend coffee, and to get back to living in this fabulous new town I am in.

::n.a.s::

p.s.
Advice on making this happen is welcome:

"I was just thinking that you need live feed cameras at all the rooms in Sombridge so you can monitor all the musical happenings from your command central position. I picture a bank of monitors and speakers, with a continuous supply of margaritas. Of course you would want to pay the cover to these needy musicians, so you would have direct deposit to their accounts. We at least HAVE to get you a live feed of the Anais show next week (and Sub Rosa, and Kev, and Hayride, and, and, and.)" ~Dinty Child, Facebook