AUSTIN HAS AN EXCELLENT NEWSPAPER called the Austin American-Statesman. In it you can find your usual city newspaper things like news, sports, classified ads, and comics. Most important, you can also find my friend John Kelso’s column in the Statesman. He has a real eye for the city, and he hits all the humorous angles with guided-missile precision.
IF YOU WANT TO GO beyond the norm, here’s a paper you should get. You can find it just about everywhere in town and it doesn’t cost a cent: the Austin Chronicle. Still wild and free, fresh on the stands every Thursday, the Chronicle was voted the best news source by its own readers in 2002. The personal ads alone provide better reading material than any tabloid rag available. Austinites call Thursdays “Chronicle Day.”
ON THE NEWSSTANDS, don’t miss Texas Monthly magazine (I write a regular column that appears on the last page). The magazine is a dead-on guide to all the people, places, and events all over Texas. It’s been in business for over thirty years and has over 2 million readers. Writing for Texas Monthly is the first real job (other than hand) that I’ve ever had in my life.
ON THE AIR
Given our obsession with music, it’s not surprising we also revere our local radio stations.
KGSR, 107.1 FM
FM 107.1, or KGSR, is a tireless supporter of local musicians, despite being a major radio station that could afford to be lazy by spinning rotations of whoever the latest tattooed, pierced, Botox-injected fifteen-year-old of the moment happens to be. By playing local artists, the station exposes their work to the listening public who, in turn, drop a dime to go to local clubs to see them perform. This benefits all areas of the local music scene. Kevin Con-nor is my favorite at the station, though he’s on too early in the morning. (Request line: 512-390-5477.)
KUT, 90.5 FM
KUT is a public radio station that makes its home at the University of Texas. Despite the fact that KUT airs standard NPR programming (which tends to make all public radio stations sound alike, whether they broadcast from Charlton Hestonville, California, or Earthmother, Vermont), KUT strives for variety in its program schedule by airing plenty of local programming that is uniquely Austin. John Aielli’s Eklektikos is a good example of this. The show started in the early seventies when host Aielli was in his twenties. It is now KUT’s longest-running radio show, and its programming reflects John’s eclectic tastes. During any given show, listeners can hear a wide variety of selections from a deep pool of musical, literary, and theatrical sources.
Larry Monroe, who, I believe, has been at KUT even longer than John Aielli, has what I consider the most soulful late-night music show on the planet. Monroe’s love of, and grasp of, virtually any music that’s good is truly remarkable. And his personal CD collection may possibly be more extensive than the entire inventory at Waterloo Records. When it comes to music, Larry Monroe’s emotional heritage is richer than almost anyone I know. And I’m not just saying that to get airplay. Though it couldn’t hurt.
The station is one of the city’s favorites, frequently ranking above commercial radio stations, according to Arbitron, the radio industry’s most important collector of audience data. Because KUT is a public radio station, it is dependent upon listener contributions; in strong shows of audience loyalty, KUT regularly raises more money than public radio affiliates in Houston and Dallas, whose markets are much larger than Austin’s. (Request line: 512-471-2345.)
KLBJ-FM AND 590 AM
Would it be too obvious to state that KLBJ is owned by the Johnson (as in Lyndon B.) family? I like the AM station because it carries Rush Limbaugh and Dr. Laura. Every culture gets what it deserves.
(KLBJ AM listener call-in line: 512-836-0590. KLBJ FM request line: 800-299-KLBJ.)
KVET-FM, 98.1
KVET-FM hosts The Sam and Bob Morning Show, Austin’s number-one morning show. My old friend Sammy Allred teams up with Bob Cole to host the only major call-in show in America that does not employ a call screener; the result is a spontaneous, uncensored, unique platform where Austinites can dictate the topic of the moment, no matter what it is. Sam and Bob’s guests are not interviewed. Instead, they sit in and participate, like the time Governor George W. Bush sang “Jingle Bells” with Larry Gatlin, or when I challenged Dwight Yoakam to reveal at what age he lost his virginity (he deftly side-stepped the subject). You never know what you’re going to get when you tune in, which is a rarity in these timid times of rigidly formatted radio.
I don’t know if it’s because I’m growing older or going insane, but I’ve become increasingly fond of Bob Cole in recent years though not in a sexual way. As for Sammy Allred, unless you’re a constipated, humorless prig, he’s funny enough to make you shit standing. But there’s more to Sammy. He’s also a philosopher, a musician, and a storyteller. He gets my vote for being the Oracle of Austin.
(KVET request line: 512-390-KVET.)
LOCAL TELEVISION EXISTS on our cable access stations, but why would you want to watch TV when you can just go to Sixth Street and see more in five minutes than you would see in an entire hour of Queer Eye for the Straight Guy? The only thing I will say about television is:
AUSTIN CITY LIMITS
In a nutshell, Austin City Limits is live music. Pure and simple. This phrase has been the motto of the show since its premiere in 1976. The show presents the best of America’s music from country, blues, and folk, to rock and roll, bluegrass, and zydeco.
While the Armadillo World Headquarters was nurturing the live music scene in Austin back in the early seventies, the creators of Austin City Limits were taking copious notes. In the years since its inception, the show has featured more than five hundred different regional and international artists, from Willie Nelson (who headlined the first Austin City Limits show aired on PBS) to Roy Orbison, Fats Domino, Lyle Lovett, Dwight Yoakam, Leonard Cohen, and John Prine. It can safely be called an Austin Institution. I did a show for them once with the Texas Jewboys, but it was never aired. Imagine that.
For those who wish to visit the studio (contrary to popular belief, the show is not filmed out of doors), KLRU’s Austin City Limits studio doors are open to the public for official, organized tours every Friday beginning at 10:30 a.m. Admission is free. Visitors can pose on the stage in front of the famous Austin skyline backdrop and have their picture taken (bring your own camera).
Austin City Limits hotline for taping information: 512-475-9077. To schedule informal tours at other time, call 512-471-4811.
Lost in Austin
THIS IS THE FAVORITE TIME FOR ANY AUTHOR. IT’S called, in Truman Capote’s words, “Having written.” But, looking back on this little book, I can’t help realizing the vast number of seminal people and magical places I have been unable to include, mostly because of space constraints and personal sloth. Texas music alone is an impossible task to chronicle faithfully. You have to dig like an archaeologist through thirteen levels of shit before you reach the lost city. When you get there, all you might find is Bob Wills’s cigar next to Mance Lipscomb’s guitar.
People will no doubt ejaculate: “How could you write a book about Austin without mentioning the legendary what’s-his-name?” Easy, actually. This is the Austin that I know. Most of the Austin I used to know, along with most of my mind, is gone anyway, so everything comes out in the wash if you use enough Tide. As the Beatles once sang: “There are places I’ll remember / All my life though some have changed.”
Some of the personality profiles in this book previously appeared in my regular column on the back page in Texas Monthly magazine. Texas Monthly, as I have mentioned, is a cultural, not to say mental, institution based in Austin, from which my editor, Evan Smith, has vowed to “fire me out of a cannon” on the day I officially announce my candidacy for governor of Texas. Hell, I don’t even have a platform. If I did, they’d probably try to put a trapdoor in it. Anyway, if you do come to Austin and you see me being driven around in a long black limousine, you’ll know I’m either dead or governor, both of which, in Texas, have often amounted
to pretty much the same thing.
If you should run into me on the street and I’m pleasant, thoughtful, and engaging, it probably isn’t me. It’s probably a Kinky impersonator. There’s a lot of them in Austin. Don’t be fooled. If, by some fortuitous circumstance, you should run into Willie, please kiss him for the Kinkster and give him this message from me: “How can I meet you on the bus if you keep moving it?”
WILL THIS BE ON THE TEST?
You Know You’re from Austin If . . .
You mourn “the old Austin” even if you weren’t there to experience it.
Your music collection contains CDs from bands no one outside South Austin has ever heard of.
You’ve eaten a hamburger at the original Hut’s.
You’re registered to vote, have firm opinions about the candidates, but have never actually cast a vote on election day.
You have bared buns at Hippie Hollow before they charged an entrance fee.
You say you’re from Austin rather than from Texas.
You have lost sleep over the fate of the endangered Barton Springs Salamander.
You think Willie Nelson should be president.
Are You New Austin or Old Austin?
If you wear a straw cowboy hat with hair down to your ass, you’re old Austin.
If your white Beemer convertible has an “I love Michael Dell” bumper sticker, you’re new Austin.
If you think Armadillo is the name of a city in the Panhandle, you’re old Austin.
If you think that Bat Guano is the name of the Congress Avenue Bridge, you’re new Austin.
If you think that Sixth Street is one big fern bar, you’re old Austin.
If you think Kenny Chesney is playing tonight at the Broken Spoke, you’re new Austin.
If you have an original poster by Jim Franklin, you’re old Austin.
If you have a reprint of an original poster by Jim Franklin, you’re new Austin.
If you remember Oak Hill as being way the hell out of town, you’re old Austin.
If you think of Dripping Springs as being way the hell out of town, you’re new Austin.
If you love Willie Nelson, you’re both old and new Austin.
GLOSSARY
Austin. 1. The capital of Texas. 2. Stephen F., the father of Texas. 3. An overused name sported by bullet-headed children from Texas.
Convict Hill. A street that has existed in Austin since before last week.
The Drag. Shopping district located on Guadalupe Street from Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevard (or MLK) to 29th Street. Named for the impossible parking situation.
Dubya. George W. Bush. Texans like to assign a nickname to anything with a heartbeat, so it was only natural we would take a single letter, give it two syllables, and slap it on our governor.
MoPac. A highway, also called Loop 1. MoPac was named for the train that barrels down the center of the damn thing (Missouri-Pacific). It is thought of by many old Austinites as the Blacktop Beast, for the way it has changed the landscape of some areas. When you approach the city from Oak Hill, the sweeping, elevated, double-decker highway is usually the catalyst for such comments as “What the fuck! What is that? This part of town looks nothing like it used to! Where’d Convict Hill go?”
Sixth Street. The entertainment district.
SoCo. The South Congress Avenue area, where you can buy all kinds of shit you couldn’t buy at its Yankee sister, SoHo.
Tejas. What Texans sometimes call their state. Texans themselves as tejanos. A tejano can also be a type of Mexican country music that features the instrument of Satan: the accordion.
University of Texas. Also called “Texas,” or “the Longhorns.” The Longhorns are the only football team you are supposed to follow; if you are caught following another team, you will be hung from the Tower and pelted with bad poetry from the university’s Lit. 101 class.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The author would like to thank the following Texans for their help and input: Sage Ferrero, Zarah Kenter, Nancy Parker, Max Swafford, and Dylan Ferrero, A/K/A Angel Spoons, P.I.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
KINKY FRIEDMAN is the author of sixteen mysteries (published, conveniently, in sixteen different languages) and a columnist for Texas Monthly. He is the founder of the band Kinky Friedman and the Texas Jewboys, which, among other things, became famous for the song “Get Your Biscuits in the Oven [and Your Buns in Bed],” and for touring with Bob Dylan. The Kinkster lives with his five dogs, a pet armadillo, countless imaginary horses, and a much-used Smith-Corona typewriter on a ranch in the Texas Hill Country. With any luck, he claims, he will be the next governor of Texas.
ALSO BY KINKY FRIEDMAN
Armadillos & Old Lace
Blast from the Past
A Case of Lone Star
Elvis, Jesus & Coca-Cola
Frequent Flyer
God Bless John Wayne
Greenwich Killing Time
Kill Two Birds & Get Stoned
The Kinky Friedman Crime Club
Kinky Friedman’s Guide to Texas Etiquette
The Love Song of J. Edgar Hoover
Meanwhile, Back at the Ranch
The Mile High Club
Musical Chairs
The Prisoner of Vandam Street
Roadkill
Spanking Watson
Steppin’ on a Rainbow
When the Cat’s Away
Curse of the Missing Puppethead
Copyright © 2004 by Kinky Friedman
Photograph © Richard Cummins/CORBIS
Photograph © Steve Kaufman/CORBIS
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Published by Crown Journeys, an imprint of Crown Publishers, New York, New York.
Member of the Crown Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc. www.crownpublishing.com
CROWN JOURNEYS and the Crown Journeys colophon are trademarks of Random House, Inc.
Portions previously appeared in Texas Monthly.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Friedman, Kinky.
The great psychedelic armadillo picnic : a “walk” in Austin / Kinky
Friedman.—1st ed.
p. cm.
1. Austin (Tex.)—Guidebooks. 2. Austin (Tex.)—Social life and customs.
3. Austin (Tex.)—Biography. 4. Celebrities—Texas—Austin—Biography.
I. Title.
F394.A93F75 2004
917.64’310464—dc22
2004013161
www.randomhouse.com
eISBN: 978-0-307-42206-4
v3.0
The Great Psychedelic Armadillo Picnic Page 9
