10 Good Lubbock Grubberies

People around here get so damned excited about chain restaurants. I really don't get it. Bland food that you can get anywhere in the country does not interest me. Below, in no particular order, are 10 Lubbock originals that will do you right:

Choo Chai - 19th and University. You want spicy? They do spicy.

Spanky's - University and Mac Davis. Fried cheese, please! Bonus: Only place to stick it out in McDougalville

Orlandos - 23rd and Ave. Q. Down-n-Dirty Tortellini, extra nuclear. Delicious.

Lite Bite Mediterranean Cafe -- 50th and some street between Indiana and Quaker. Get the spinach pizza and stuffed grape leaves. Bonus: Interesting store attached.

Downtown Lone Star Oyster Bar - 18th and Crickets Ave. Tropical fare. Great grilled shrimp and delicious side orders--I like the potatoes and mixed vegetables. Bonus: Cheap pitchers of cerveza on Tuesdays.

Abuelos - 82nd and Quaker. It is now a chain restaurant in several states, but it started right here in Lubbock. Good food, good margaritas, great patio.

One Guy From Italy - Main Street and University Ave. I once hiked across the Tech campus in the snow for a calzone.

Jaliscos - 24th and Ave. Q. Authentic Mexican food. Muy cheap. ¡Excellent queso! (this photo is from their downtown restaurant)

Thai Thai - 50th and Utica. Another good spot for spicy Thai food.

Saigon Cafe - 50th and something. Look at the map, I guess. Anyway...best egg rolls ever. Get the hot & sour soup, too. Yum.

Lubbock grubberies I miss: Hub City Brewery, Hebi's, The Depot Restaurant, Taranga (West African place that was incredible), The Brittany, Hub City Burrito.

There are Roman Deities for Everything

From a conversation at Skooners yesterday, I decided to research obscure Roman gods. Below are a few interesting ones:


Febris - goddess of fever and malaria

Inuus - god of herds and sexual intercourse

Bibesia - goddess of drink

Sterquilinus - god of manure spreading

Cloaca - goddess of sewers and drains

Mefitis - goddess of miasmas and sulphuric vapors

and, probably the most oddly specific of all:

Deferunda - goddess of removing a problematic fig tree


If Lubbock weren't so monotheistic, I wonder what our gods would be.

We would have gods/goddesses of wind, dirt, tumbleweeds, and thunderstorms. Our most powerful deity would be the Tornado Goddess. We would have recently made peace with our alcohol god. We would sorely need a god/goddess of wisdom. I also think we would have a jokester god named Petapelli who'd show up in the form of a prairie dog, wreaking havoc on lawns, golf courses, and cotton fields. Landowners would have to sacrifice chicken fried steaks and Pinkies' chicken gizzards to keep things right.

Lost At The Bottom Of Texas - Big Bend

Lost at the Bottom of Texas – Big Bend

My parents had never been to Big Bend. I had, about ten years ago, and had fallen in love with the place, so, when they asked me to go down there with them, I was stoked. I was anxious to see how much Terlingua, Texas had changed over that long ten years. I remembered it as a crazy, quirky, god-forsaken place where the natives were all hiding a little something or running from god-knows-what. I hoped that Terlingua had not been taken over by tourism or excessive population growth.



DAY ONE



Odessa, Texas



I feel like our trip officially began at a Pizza Hut in Odessa, Texas. We had been looking for a non-Mexican food joint to eat dinner at since we figured we’d only find Mexican food in Alpine and Terlingua. Turns out, there’s not much else to eat in Odessa, either. So we settled for Pizza Hut. One thing I learned about Odessa, other than there not being much to eat there besides Mexican food, is that their water is horrible. Makes Lubbock’s brand of H2O taste divine.



After our fine meal, we drove over to Alpine, TX to spend the night. We stayed at the Sunday House Inn. ASIDE: Mom and Dad have a GPS unit which they programmed to help us on our journey down south. We had already taken to calling it, with its annoying female voice, The Bitch. The Bitch pronounced Alpine “al-peen.” The Bitch also tried to tell us that the Sunday House was in the middle of Highway 67, blithely announcing “You’ve reached your destination” when we were still three miles outside of town. We would come to have further problems with The Bitch on the way home. The Sunday House boasted “Texas-Sized Rooms” which turned out to be furnished with flyswatters.



DAY TWO



Breakfast



We woke up in our Texas-Sized Room and got ready for the day. We had about an hour and twenty-minute drive down to Big Bend National Park and some serious hiking to do. Mom made some unusual sartorial choices, including Capri pants, hiking boots with long socks, and a sparkly shirt—red with actual sequins on it. I reminded her that I would be taking lots of photos. She changed into jeans to alleviate the long sock/capris situation.

Breakfast at The Sunday House was interesting. We went over to the office, where there was a microwave, a toaster, a refrigerator, and some bread. Inside the refrigerator were sausage patties, hard-boiled eggs, and these really weird rectangular egg slabs. Mom, Dad, some folks (who Mom described as “not very friendly”) from New Jersey and I all stumbled over each other trying to make our food with that one microwave. It was something like watching clowns assemble sandwiches in a really crappy circus called “The Dullest Show on Earth.” Something about that whole awkward situation and the odd grouping of tiny bistro tables with one chair apiece set my mom and I into fits of laughter, which I feared might result in our getting kicked out of the office. Didn’t happen though.



The drive down to Terlingua was an experience. Passed the Border Patrol station just south of Alpine. Cell phone service ceased. We found ourselves descending further and further into arid, empty badlands. Stunted, chaparral forests lined each side of the lonesome highway. A huge bobcat crossed the road. Shortly after that, we saw a sign that read “Family Crisis Center Ahead.” A Family Crisis Center out in the middle of nowhere? Was this a bad harbinger of some sort for our family? I kept thinking of Tom Waits’ song “Lost at the Bottom of the World” because I felt I truly was at the bottom of the world. I’m such a Texan solipsist.



Santa Elena Canyon

We got to Big Bend National Park and turned immediately down Old Maverick Road to do our first hike—Santa Elena Canyon Trail. Old Maverick Road is where your giant, gas-guzzling monster truck is called for. Little cars had better stay out—they would find themselves high-centered in an arroyo pretty quickly. We got to the trailhead and started walking down toward the river. The River. The Rio Grande. The infamous river of illegal immigration and Mexican drug cartel warlord activity. The Rio Grande is a muddy, green, slow moving river, but the scenery around Santa Elena Canyon is spectacular. Tall straight cliffs rise up on either side of the water. As you hike down into the canyon, you finally reach the shady enclave where it is cool and tranquil. You can actually hear echoes when you speak. It is beautiful down there. If you go to Big Bend, Santa Elena Canyon is a hike you have to take.



We returned to the trailhead and stopped for lunch at one of the picnic tables in the shade. We ate Triscuits, Swiss cheese, and Mom’s M&M-heavy homemade trail mix. It was a pleasant lunch—Dad commented that “All we need’s a hammock and a beer.” Indeed.



Mule Ears Peaks



Big Bend basically has three ecosystems: river, desert, and mountains. We had already done a river hike, so now it was time to hit the desert. We took the Ross Maxwell Scenic Drive over to Mule Ears Peaks trailhead, making stops at Desert Mountain Overlook and Tuff Canyon Overlook for some great views on the way. The Mule Ears Peaks together make up one of the Big Bend’s most distinctive landscape features. They look like mule ears poking up out of an inhospitable land. The trail is best done in the early morning when it is cool. There is no shade. Bring lots of water if you go.



The terrain on Mule Ears Peaks Trail changes from a burned-out looking rocky Mad Max scene to an area of bleak scrub to a spring-fed oasis with tall, green cottonwoods. Past the spring is where you get a close look at the Mule Ears Peaks, and, when you turn around, you get a magnificent view of Santa Elena Canyon with a tall Mexican peak behind it. Although it was only 81 degrees, this was hot, sunny hiking. Here, you get a sobering sense of what illegal immigrants are up against when they cross the desert to try to come to the U.S. ASIDE: Read The Devil’s Highway by Luis Alberto Urrea for a harrowing account of The Yuma 14, who perished in a desert crossing back in 2001.



Hwy 170 to Presidio



We were hot and tired after our two hikes, so we decided to do some driving. Highway 170 stretches from Terlingua to Presidio and, I’m assuming, points northwest. This is one of the most scenic drives in Texas. It goes right along the Rio Grande and passes by some unusual rock formations and gorgeous hills and valleys. Words really cannot describe this drive, and it is difficult to photograph since the road is so narrow you can’t really pull over and snap photos.



We saw Mexican nationals across the river with tents and burros. Border Patrol agents had set up at one of the few turnouts and were watching them. That is one thing that has changed in the past ten years since I’d been to the region—a bigger Border Patrol presence.



There are “Loose Livestock” signs everywhere along the road. Redford, Texas is fenced and has cattle guards on both sides of town to keep the cattle out. I guess there still is such a thing as free range in the United States. When we turned around and stopped at Lajitas on the way back to Terlingua, it was 95 degrees outside.



Wildhorse Station


It was time now for us to check into our accommodations. Mom had secured us a “suite” at the Wildhorse Station, which we passed on the highway into Terlingua. It looked, ahem, interesting. When we went back over there and walked into the office, it was as if we had stepped into another world. A world of 1980s souvenirs, wax museum cowboys and banditos playing poker, yellowed postcards for sale, and old dogs lying on the floor. The owner told us we would have to follow her in her pickup so she could show us where we would be staying. This seemed a bit odd to us.



Turns out, Wildhorse Station is not a motel but rather a series of trailer houses in varying sizes that you can rent. Ours, cabin number 7, wound up being perfect. Two bedrooms with spectacular décor including Indian woman prints and bear paintings. A flyswatter was provided. The best thing, though, was that we had our very own Huge Boulder outside. It provided much-needed shade in the afternoons. We sat in plastic yellow chairs and drank beer by the Huge Boulder that afternoon.

The owner of the Wildhorse Station told us later that she came to Terlingua back in 1986 from Houston and had spent her first six months in Big Bend cryin’ on the front porch. Now she, like virtually everyone we met down there, loves living there.



The Starlight Theatre



No trip to Terlingua is complete without going over to Terlingua Ghost Town to the Starlight Theatre. Even if you don’t eat there, just bring a six-pack and hang out on the porch. The porch at the Starlight is Terlingua’s main hangout. The porch clientele consists of hippies, bikers, hikers, and general weirdos, both local and tourist, who like to sit, play guitars, gossip, tell stories, and drink beer. On my last trip there were flyswatters placed everywhere with the words “Do Your Part” written on them.



The atmosphere inside the Starlight is vibrant, too. There is a huge stage in the back with a cowboy mural painted on it that has an ethereal, old Texas quality about it. The walls are cracked adobe with the patina of, somehow, stories on them. If those walls could only talk. Everyone around you is a character at the Starlight Theatre. Go there. Anyway, the food was good, the beer was great, and there was music by some country act out of Brenham, Texas called Beau Hinze and the Backporch Shufflers. Actually, it was only Beau Hinze and the Backporch Shuffler, as only Beau and one fiddler made the long trip from east Texas. They weren’t bad—had a couple of funny songs about Boones Farm wine and some poor bastard called Dumbass Rusty. After a few brews and some good food, it was time for slumber back at the Wildhorse. We’d had a long, tiring day.



DAY THREE



Ghost Town Café


I woke up before my parents did. That is big—that never happens. I must have worn them out pretty good. We went back over to Terlingua Ghost Town for breakfast at the Ghost Town Café. This place is hilarious. There is Betty Boop stuff all over the walls and even in the bathrooms. There is Americana and Texana crap everywhere, too, including a glorious American Flag with a giant bald eagle head on it. The menu items include “The Biker,” “The Hiker,” “The Ghost Rider,” and the “Messy Ghost Burrito” (which I ordered). This brings up an important dichotomy in Terlingua: Bikers vs. Hikers. Although there is no real tension between these two factions, they are very distinct. Bikers are all wearing black t-shirts with either a rally or a bike shop emblazoned on them, while the hikers mostly wear t-shirts with North Face or a 5K event on them. Even if all wearing similar t-shirts, you could easily tell them apart by the footwear. And, most likely, the hair.



The food at Ghost Town was good. I was warned to use the salsa sparingly (they clearly did not know who they were dealing with). It was tasty, but not hot enough to warrant sparing use. My coffee was served in a Christmas mug. This was in March.

Random bit of information--Here is a salsa recipe from the wall:



1 can tomatoes

3 jalapenos

3 cayenne peppers (fresh)

2 small avocados

2 cloves garlic

1 lg. yellow onion

1 TBS salt

1 lemon



Calls for shredding the jalapenos and cayennes with a cheese grater. I cannot imagine ever being able to touch my contacts again after having done that. Also, I’m not sure I can buy fresh cayenne peppers in Lubbock. Ah, well. Might have to substitute habaneros.



A waitress at the Ghost Town Café told us she moved to Terlingua from Oregon. I cannot imagine how someone comes all the way from Oregon to wait tables in Terlingua, Texas.



The Window Trail

We drove back into the park for our last big hike—the Window Trail. It starts at the civilized and heavily populated Chisos Mountain Basin where the Big Bend Lodge is located. This was a new trail for me, so I didn’t quite know what to expect. We started hiking down, down, down into a valley. The scenery was beautiful, but I have to admit I was thinking that the hike back up was going to suck from all the climbing. I didn’t know if this hike was going to be worth the effort. Well, suffice it to say that it WAS. The Window view is specfreakintacular. Worth every step back up out of that valley. It is literally like a window—a vertical cut in the mountain wall out of which you can see out for miles into the desert far below. A cool wind blows in through The Window. The rock floor leading up to the edge is polished and slippery from so many visitors. I didn’t get too close to that edge. I started to get the feeling that this was a waterslide chute, only there wasn’t water but rather sharp rocks and cacti thousands of feet below. Scary-crazy-beautiful, The Window.



We actually hiked up out of the valley faster than we descended into it, even with taking frequent “shady rest stops” as we began calling them.



La Kiva



After the nearly four-hour Window Trail hike, we cleaned up and went back to Terlingua Ghost Town for some shopping. The store next to the Starlight Theatre has gifts and a surprisingly good selection of books. They have Texas, Big Bend, Terlingua and general book sections. They even have good fiction in there. Featured was Chris Oglesby’s Earth in the Air, Fire in the Water—a book about Lubbock music. Had to go all the way to Big Bend to see that book featured prominently in a book store. Huh.



Took some crazy photos around town. There is a tiled picnic table outside the Leaping Lizard Gallery that provides good photo ops. There is some crazy guy who has a pirate ship, a submarine, and a giant fish hanging from a post that says “Passing Wind.” Weird stuff.



We went to La Kiva to have drinks and dinner. La Kiva is Terlingua at its unapologetic weirdest. It is a cave—you go down dark stairs immediately on entering their ramshackle-looking building. The bar and tables are made of highly-polished wood cut from huge logs. These crude but gorgeous tables are all uneven. There are stools made from polished tree stumps. There is a skeleton on the wall called “Penisaurus Erectus.” There is a $900 bottle of Milagro Tequila on the top shelf. Seating is communal. Like at the Starlight, everyone around is a character. Most are lean and leathery and wearing cowboy boots and/or an interesting vest and maybe a cowboy hat or bolo tie. Bikers abound as well. I asked the bartender what kind of day he was having and he said that, in his eight years (everyone working in Terlingua seems to be a “lifer”) he had never seen a group of bikers who didn’t drink. They were called The Blue Knights. I consulted the Googles, and they are a Law Enforcement biker club. HA!



Our waitress, predictably, told us her story of coming to Terlingua. She moved there from San Antonio back in 2000. She said that she “fell in love and gave it all up” to live in the desert and sling hash at La Kiva.



We went back to the Wildhorse and had some beverages by our Huge Boulder.



Leaving Big Bend



Our trip home was uneventful. We did get stopped at a Border Patrol station and asked about our citizenship. The Bitch kept trying to re-route us to Big Spring. We abandoned her counsel. We made good time.



Leaving Big Bend is hard. It is a place full of magic, stories, beauty, and a lot of nothing. It’s a great place to go and get lost.

Lubbock in the National News

From time to time, I enjoy posting all of the national news stories Lubbock has been involved in during my lifetime. Most are either unflattering or athletic-related.

1970--Lubbock devastated by tornado
1981--Lubbockite and Tech-ex John Hinckley, Jr. attempts to assassinate president
1981--The Clash and Linda Ronstadt play the Tornado Jam in Buddy Holly Park
1988--Sighting of the Virgin Mary in Lubbock
1992--Ralph Erdmann--discredited pathologist who faked autopsies--story on 60 Minutes
1993--Marsha Sharp's Lady Raiders win national title
1998--Hampton University incident--Lubbock sued and accused of racism; case later dropped
2001--Coach Bob Knight comes to Texas Tech
2002--North Overton Project--largest gentrification project in North America
2002--Coach Bob Knight throws salad at Tech Chancellor David Smith
2003--Bubonic Plague vials missing from TTU Health Sciences Center
2003--Lubbock leads state of Texas in STD/Teen Pregnancy rates
2003--Gay/Straight Alliance denied student organization status at Lubbock High School
2006--Newborn baby kidnapped by woman disguised as nurse, returned to family
2007--Chippendales dancers spend night in jail in America's most conservative city, Lubbock, Texas.
2007--Newborn baby kidnapped by woman disguised as nurse, returned to family
2007--Lubbock's undefeated Western Little League team advances to Little League World Series U.S. final
2008--TSA officials at Lubbock International Airport force a woman to remove her nipple ring
2009--Texas Tech University fires nationally-acclaimed football coach Mike Leach amid controversy

Either Fix or Kill the Pedestrian Light at 14th and University

Letter I'm sending to Traffic Engineering:

City of Lubbock Traffic Engineering
PO Box 2000Lubbock, Texas 79457

Dear Sir or Madam:

It is my understanding that pedestrian-actuated signals (PAS) are installed for the purpose of minimizing delay for both pedestrians and motorists. I posit that the PAS at 14th street and University Avenue is not performing at anywhere near an optimal level and needs to be adjusted or removed.

Below is a scenario which plays out for me either twice or four times per day, depending on whether I go home for lunch, and for countless others who walk across University Avenue:

Pedestrian punches the button at the intersection and waits for the signal to change whilst annoyingly spaced-out traffic hurtles down University. She waits, patiently at first, then becomes increasingly agitated at the length of time she is standing there, often lately in the cold or rain. Finally seeing an opening in the north-bound lanes, she begins to cross the street without benefit of a “walk” signal, but only begins, because she’s now stranded in the median, a kind of no-man’s-land and part-time splash zone in the middle of the street, since there is still traffic rushing by in the south-bound lanes. That button she pushed minutes ago is now mocking her with its beeping. By now, the light at 15th street has changed, and southbound traffic in one of the two lanes is backing up. She still can’t cross, though, because the other lane is still going strong. Finally, she is able to cross because all the motorists are now stopped at the 15th street light. She winds her way through a couple of unevenly-parked cars and reaches the sidewalk. After walking about 20 yards away from the intersection, the PAS finally changes. The motorists curse, usually silently but sometimes audibly, at having to sit through the 14th street signal for no one (there is a green light at 15th Street by now).

Please either look into adjusting the settings of this PAS or remove it entirely. It causes nothing but grief.

Why Everyone Should go to NX35 (But I Hope They Don't)

Rob and I had decided to go to NX35 a few weeks back. Well, a more accurate way to put this is that Rob was going to NX35 and I was lucky enough that he invited me to join him. I won’t go into much background about what NX35 is or where it came from. There is a great web site where you can geek out on that kind of information: www.nx35.com. This writing is just a sort of quick and dirty account of what happened in two and a half days in Denton, TX in March 2010.

DAY ONE – FRIDAY

Road Trip

Rob and I get ready to leave Lubbock and go on a five-hour ride to Denton. We had decided in advance to take my vehicle due to its being newer and more reliable, etc. Our original goal had been to leave town at 7:30 a.m. and get to Denton in time to hear the keynote speech by Steve Albini, but the previous evening’s Phillip Roebuck* show at Skooners and the resultant staying up until around 3 a.m. put a swift end to those plans. After revising our goal to 9:00 a.m., we get out of town pretty much on time. The road trip begins with our listening to a David Foster Wallace interview recording, followed by some David Bowie and other fine road tunes, including LiLiPUT, Barton Carroll, and a Denton music compilation Rob made. All in all, it is a sweet ride down Highway 114, full of anticipation about the great music we are gonna hear over the next two days. We get about 10 miles outside of Denton and have to stop for some construction. Fucking car breaks down. Only positive thing about this is that the wind is blowing so hard that we don’t have to push it off the road.

*Phillip Roebuck is a god. Go see him. Now. He played at Bash’s in Lubbock on Wednesday night, and Rob and I both psychotically loved it. So, when we discovered he was playing again on Thursday, at our favorite bar no less, we had to go, even though we’d sworn to go to bed early so we could leave at the butt crack of dawn.

Big Mike

We have no idea what is wrong with the car. (2007 Hyundai, by the way, if you’re searching for reliable vehicles capable of making a 5-hour road trip.) Rob calls his friend Greg for a garage recommendation. We call Melton’s Auto. Rob (I make Rob call even though it’s my car, since mechanics tend to screw over females to a higher degree than males) talks to Melton about the situation and asks if he has his own tow truck. He doesn’t but gives us a number for Big Mike’s Towing. We wait on the side of the road for about an hour, frantically searching the long line of cars passing through the one-lane construction mess for a tow truck that says “Big Mike’s” on it.

We finally spot it—it’s a big, blue flatbed tow truck. Big Mike (not ironically named) springs into action, hooking up my tiny little Hyundai and pulling it up onto the massive tow truck. We get in the cab, Rob sitting in the middle. I tell Big Mike, “nice rig!” and he says “Thank you very much.” Maybe the longest sentence he said to us (Big Mike’s not much of a conversationalist). Rob asks him, “Have you seen a lot of people in town for the music festival?” and Big Mike looks at us quizzically and asks “What music festival?” Big Mike don’t know music. But he does know how to get us to Melton’s Auto Shop, for $75.

Melton, a really friendly guy (sarcasm here), informs us that our timing belt is broken and that he can’t get to it until Monday. We give him a stricken look, and he leaves for a moment, coming back to tell us that he can get someone to work on it in the morning. He also says that there could be “a lot of damage” if the broken belt went “flying around, breaking valves and stuff.” After laying that heavy trip on us, Melton splits, saying “I gotta go get my daughter” without even giving us an estimate. Well, shit. All we can do now is get a ride to the hotel, head to the square to get our NX35 wristbands, and hear some rock and roll. Rob’s friend (I would soon discover that Rob has a lot of great friends) Aaron picks us up and gives us a lift to the hotel. We inquire about cab service, as we don’t want to have to keep annoying people for rides. Don’t ever go to Denton, TX and expect to get a cab ride. The only company in town never answers its phone.

The Jakeys

We get a ride from Rob’s buddy Sinevil (of Burnt Sienna Trio) to the square to obtain the much-sought-after wristbands. We are starving, since we haven’t eaten anything all day. We walk over to J&J’s Pizza on the square and have Schlitz with our calzone and slice. That’s right: Schlitz. For $1.50 a can. I am appreciative of the cheap booze, since I’ve no idea how much the car repair is gonna run me. After the pizza, which is really good, and not just because we are starving, we go over to Sweetwater to hear The Jakeys. Mike is a good friend of Rob’s, and he is the lead singer of the band. How to describe them? Drunken Irish Hilarity marries Hard Rock. Not sure that does it, but here’s a visual. At one point, Mike, impeccably dressed all in black and with a pentagram belt buckle on, is holding a Guinness in one hand and two Natty Lights in the other while singing a slower, much funnier rendition of “Run to the Hills” by Iron Maiden, crowd singing along.

The Angelus

The next show we want to catch is The Angelus at Hydrant. This is a small, two-storey coffee house on the square. We grab some coffee and head upstairs. The room is small, with high ceilings, interesting lighting, windows looking out onto the square, and couches and chairs scattered throughout. I have been to some little venues before, but this is intimate. A perfect setting for the dark, serious, beautiful The Angelus. Rob is friends (again, I’m amazed at how many cool people he knows) with Emil, the vocalist, and we had in fact delivered The Angelus T-Shirts for them to sell. We only catch about half their act because we have to book it to the next show.

Record Hop

We quickly run over to the Boiler Room for Record Hop. The place is packed, and we are relegated to the back of the room. Still, the band sounds great from back there, and the bar has video feeds to big screen TVs, so you can still see the action. This is the biggest venue and most packed room we’ve been in, but you still get the feel that NX35 is small and personal. We have no problem getting drinks or getting to hear the music. Record Hop is quite simply a great band. I’m really not sure why they aren’t huge. Frontwoman Ashley’s vocals are somehow hard and soulful and gorgeous all at the same time.

Dan’s Silver Leaf

After Record Hop, we go back to J&J’s to get another slice (we are trying to soak up booze here) and to meet Warren (of WJH and the Merrie Murdre of Gloomadeers) and his girlfriend Jessica. We have a couple more Schlitz’s and head over to Dan’s Silver Leaf across the square. Pretty much everyone is here. It is a kind of post-show party and normal, everyday gathering of friends rolled into one event. Record Hop’s Ashley and Scott are here, as are Justin and Steve of Burnt Sienna along with a bunch of Rob’s friends whose names unfortunately escape me now. Everyone is just ridiculously nice, friendly, generous, etc. Dan’s Silver Leaf, by the way, is a sweet venue. It has a huge stage for the size of the place and a big patio out back. I hear they make the best bloody Marys there, though, sadly, I never try one. Justin gives us a ride back to the hotel room, after another botched attempt at trying to call Denton’s sorry cab company. I picture a tiny office with unsavory nearly-porn calendars on the wall, some as old as 1996, with a cracked rotary phone that is only answered when one of the two cabbies on staff happens to be there. On the way to Justin’s car we overhear this gem: “I’m in Texas, dammit. I’m entitled to a dually.” Day One ends with some much-needed sleep after a long drive, a broken down car, and badass music.

DAY 2 – SATURDAY

45 Minutes?

Rob and I sleep until about 10:30 or 11:00 a.m. We get the call from Melton about the car’s being ready, and Rob sends out a blanket text to see if we can get a ride over to the shop. We have about an hour and a half to make it over there before they close. Mike from The Jakeys kindly agrees to take us. I call Melton to let him know when we’ll be there. Convo goes like this: “Hi, Mr. Melton?” “Yeah.” “This is Christine. I was calling to let you know that we are getting a ride over to your shop to pick up the Hyundai. We will be there in about 45 minutes.” “What do you mean ’45 minutes?!?’” (pause) “We got a ride to your shop, and it will be 45 minutes until we get there.” “WHAT TIME IS IT NOW???” “It’s about noon.” “Oh. Okay, that will be fine.” I don’t know whether to be pissed off or to laugh at the way he was talking to me. Decide on the latter. Mike picks us up and takes us to Melton’s, which, by the way, is housed in several self-storage units on an access road. Shady looking, to say the least. However, I must say that, despite his lack of customer service skills and curb appeal, Melton is fair and did us a huge favor by getting the car fixed on a Saturday morning. Look him up if you bust a timing belt in Denton. But don’t expect a smile or friendly chit-chat.

Licking a Steak

Rob and I are hungry at this point, so we go to Mr. Chopsticks, a Thai/Chinese food joint. We sit out on the patio. Pointless but mildly interesting aside: there is a facebook group entitled “The Waitresses at Mr. Chopsticks Don’t Wear Bras.” Bad news, guys: I did not see any braless waitresses. The good news, though, is that their food is tasty. I enjoy some spicy Pad Thai with shrimp, before we set out in search of lotion, of all things. We find no lotion to be had in a couple of convenience stores. We also discover that there are some serious power outages going on in Denton. I get a text alert from NX35’s twitter about it. We hope no shows are affected. We decide to go over to The Loophole on the square for a beer (for Rob) and a Bloody Mary (for me). The Loophole is a typical booze joint. We sit in the back and wait for our drinks, looking at our program and plotting out our day. The drinks come. I am excited about this Bloody Mary. I take a sip. I wince. I tell Rob, “I feel like I just licked a steak.” I think I have now had the lifetime recommended allowance of salt and Worcestershire sauce.

House Show on Sycamore

We walk over to a house on Sycamore Street (just a few blocks from the square), first stopping by the Midway Mart to pick up some beer and water. Rob chooses a six-pack of Bombshell Blonde, which I’ve never tried before and is refreshing and good. We get to the house, which looks a lot like the older homes in my neighborhood in Lubbock, and people are sitting outside in the yard and on the sidewalk, chatting and drinking. We see Greg, whom I thank for getting us together with Melton, and his girlfriend, Eve. Anyway, we see some great music here at this little house show. This, to me, seems like what Denton is all about. Friends hanging out and playing music and drinking beer and talking and enjoying life. We see Craig Welch from The Jakeys; Dim Locator, and, finally, Burnt Sienna Trio. Justin of BST is a hellaciously good singer with a distinctive voice. Phil Roebuck had told us on Thursday about BST, “Their phrasing doesn’t make sense, but it works.” Justin gets the audience involved in “Green Light” by handing out tambourines, a cowbell, and even a hammer and some huge piece of iron. I take pictures and smile from the sheer fun of it.

The Flaming Lips

Didn’t go.

Countdown to Hogpig

Rob and I ditch the Flaming Lips mob scene and go to Hooligan’s, a good place to kind of hide out and have some alone/down time. We also want to order some food since we have a long night of badassery ahead. We sit upstairs and a waitress, I’ll call her Chelsea, comes by to take our order. She insists on taking a credit card even though we tell her we do not want to start a tab but want to pay cash as we go. Then we ask for menus. Chelsea comes back about 10 minutes later with our drinks. No menus. We ask for them again. After half an hour, she deigns to visit our table again, asking if we need anything. Rob tells her we want to tab out, and I think she finally gets that we’re not too happy. She says, “We got really busy real quick. Did you notice?” No, Chelsea, we didn’t notice how busy you got. But we did notice that waitressing is not your calling. We end up going back to J&J Pizza for a slice. And a Schlitz. We then make the trek over to Rubber Gloves Rehearsal Studio, where Hogpig will play. Rubber Gloves is much like a grunge dive bar straight out of Singles-era Seattle. You can easily imagine Alice in Chains playing here. Warren and Jessica are already at a table, as is Rob’s friend Will. Dan, who plays with Warren and with Doug Gillard, who is about to go on, joins us, too. We chat and, of course, drink some beer. Doug Gillard (of Guided by Voices) takes the stage. Dan hasn’t even rehearsed with him, so it’s entertaining watching him play. He does a ridiculously good job. Doug Gillard can play the shit out of a guitar, too. This show rocks hard, and we are up front, right underneath the speakers. Our hearing is starting to suffer, but we’re loving it.

HOGPIG!

Finally, the moment arrives. A broken down car, electricity outages, and lots of booze did not succeed in derailing me from this. The one band I had to see at NX35. Hogpig. They are the only rock band I have ever seen who goes on stage and hears the crowd shout their name to them like a faux insult. “HOGPIG!!!” How to describe Hogpig? They are over-the-top, ridiculous pure rock fury. They apparently started as a joke. Their songs are hilarious, but their musicianship is no laughing matter. Collin, their drummer, is a tour de force. Rob and I are right up front again, and when “Fuck You, Mike Love” comes on, it is nirvana. I shoot a video and am suffering at this point from hearing loss and permagrin.

Warren Jackson Hearne and the Merrie Murdre of Gloomadeers

Hogpig ends and Rob and I speed-walk across the railroad tracks back to the square to catch the end of Warren’s set at Banter. A good-sized crowd fills the intimate venue. Mike is wearing a gimp mask. Warren’s dramatic, precisely gorgeous vocals fill the room. People sing along. There is a flautist playing with them who was won three Grammys. At the end of the set, Mike recites this crazy, dirty as hell poem along the lines of Rime of the Ancient Mariner. Hearing Warren was the perfect end to NX35 for us.

One Last Drink

Rob and I have our “closing ceremonies” at The Loophole. We congratulate ourselves for having such a badass, successful weekend. There are people out there who’d chastise us for missing The Flaming Lips show. Pffft. We came to NX35 not to see commercial success. We came to see good indie music you might not see anywhere else. We came to see an amazing rock show in someone’s living room. We came to sit in the sun, drink some beer, and tell stories. We came to see Hogpig.

There are dumbasses who’d say NX35 is a wannabe SXSW. I say NX35 is intentionally not SXSW. It is not a huge event with long lines and big name bands and corporate sponsors everywhere. NX35 is small. It is personal. It is amazing. Everyone should go to NX35. But I hope they don’t.