The Worley Gig, A Pandomag.com Column by Gail Worley

Arriving at Laguardia airport for my flight down to Austin, Texas, I immediately spotted the extremely handsome Major Label A&R Rep I met recently at a press dinner. We struck up a conversation and I commented on the very snazzy black shirt hugging his torso. "Oh, this shirt has a good story behind it," he said, confessing that the shirt was an intended gift for the lead singer of a certain multi-platinum selling southern rock band. He then proceeded to spill the beans that label employees often open the band's fan mail, read the letters, make fun of the fans, keep any gifts and then throw the letters away. "Why don't you forward the letters to the band?" I naively inquired. "They won't even open them," he shrugged. This revelation gave me pause to consider what fate might have befallen all those fan letters I sent to Trent Reznor so many years ago...

The Peeps

Michelle, my regular SXSW partner in crime, saved us each over $100 in the cost of accommodations by bringing in her pal Sarah as a third roommate. The three of us formed a sort of Blonde Mod Squad alliance, stopping the hipster boys in their tracks at Thursday afternoon's Rock & Roll High School Prom. Right on. The only downfall occurred when Sarah lost her room key while boffing her boyfriend in a tunnel under the waterfall by the hotel's pool and knocked on the door at 4:00 AM, waking me from a just-reached state of sound sleep. David Lee Beowulf was conspicuously absent from the convention festivities due to an inability to get the time off work (loser) so I buddied up for shows and scene-making with my other NYC-based rock-writer pal, Bryan Judas Priest. Bryan is possessed of an unusually cheery disposition for a goth-metal expert. Nikki and J., the Bite Me! Girls were there from Los Angeles, and I couldn't go five minutes without being shadowed by Steven Thompson from The Onion. My two new favorite people however, are Foster and Alec Johnson of the San Francisco band, Vegas Demilo, who provided Michelle and I with rides in their rental car in addition to being the perfect composites of party animal and southern gentleman.

Surrealistic Radio: Meeting People is Easy and other Fallacies

The mind-bending new Radiohead documentary, entitled Meeting People is Easy, debuted at a SXSW screening on Saturday evening. Bluntly put, this film is the Eraserhead of rock documentaries. Unceasingly dour and disturbing beyond expression, Meeting People is Easy is an artistically brilliant, yet bleak and ultimately joyless film detailing the media frenzy following the 1997 release of Radiohead's third album, OK Computer -- almost universally critically lauded as the number one album of that year and hyped up the ass as one of the greatest pop records of all time -- that robbed the sanity from and ruined the lives of all members of Radiohead.

Directed by Grant Gee, the film follows a year in the life of Radiohead as they tour Europe, Japan and the States, and chronicles their escalating loss of privacy. Narration is provided from the point of view of Radiohead themselves, as band members are filmed conducting media interviews ad nauseam, often while print reviews simultaneously run across the screen. Such visuals, accompanied by cloying audio commentary on the unbelievable aesthetic impact of OK Computer, serve to hammer home the message that relentless pursuit by the press, hysterical fans and the resultant pressure of living up to the hype of being "The next Beatles" and the "New Pink Floyd" thrust a group of rather reserved musicians into the reluctant role of rock superstars. As lead singer, Thom Yorke laments to one reporter, this surrealistic nightmare of fame gone horribly awry is a "Complete Headfuck."

The film's most heart-wrenching and indeed truly horrifying scene involves a viewing and subsequent "Behind the Scenes" look at the video (also directed by Gee) for "No Surprises." Yorke is required to wear a tank on his head that slowly fills with water as he sings, until the water gradually covers his mouth, nose, eyes, rendering him unable to breath. The camera lingers on Yorke's face for several agonizing minutes before the trap below his neck is released and he is left gasping and sputtering for air. It's definitely a Blue Velvet moment.

Pass the Prozac and hand Radiohead the Nietzsches of Rock Award. Based on the stunned silence that followed the screening in Austin, no one who sees this film would blame them if they refused to tour or conduct interviews ever again. As the robotic voice of OK Computer's "Fitter, Happier" drones, this film will make you feel like "A pig, in a box, on antibiotics." Meeting People is Easy gave me nightmares for three days.

Party on Gail: Austin After Hours

Drinking and drinking and eating and schmoozing, these are a few of my favorite things. South By Southwest serves up an opportunity to party down to the ground in the same way a tornado might be called an air current. No one loves an early bedtime more than yours-truly, but I knew that to stay sharp on the cutting edge, I had to drag my sleepy little butt to some After Hours parties, which begin around 2 AM, after the final showcases of the evening. Seven Percent Solution, Austin's favorite "Psychedelic Happening" band, played a party where I had my fourth chance to eat Mexican Food in one 24-hour period. The band's hallucinatory swirl of sound and accompanying liquid light show made me feel like I was on Acid (always a good thing). I saw the writing on the wall and went back to the Hotel when a young music editor, who recently jumped ship at Details only to resurface at Spin, pulled his pant legs up over his knees and some unidentified industry weasel took a whiz out the window onto 6th Street.

This year's Spin Magazine party, the official Swan Song of the overall event, was even more wild and out of control than last year. 3,000 invitations were handed out for a space (the basement of a downtown bank) that held only 700 people and the bands were so loud most of the partiers were seen lurking in the hallways, stuffing earplugs or whatever was handy into their already damaged ears. Still, there were semi-clad fairy girls, transvestites in the ladies room, free-flowing booze, tasty breakfast food and performances by three hot bands: The Delusions (from Seattle, way worth checking out), next-big-thing, Built to Spill and cult favorites, The Flaming Lips. My final impression as I left the Spin party close to 4:30 AM was spotting Perry from Nasty Little Man wearing a red ball clown nose. And they say publicists don't know how to have a good time.

Big budget bashes aside, the real after hours party is checking out the International House Of Pancakes -- the only all-night restaurant in downtown Austin -- after 1 AM on any given night.

Band on the Run

San Francisco's bluesy garage rock band, Dura Delinquent missed the deadline to score an official showcase but nevertheless managed to perform in front of a large and diverse crowd when they pulled off this year's Most Unique Publicity Stunt. The Dauntless Delinquents simply drove down to Austin and got their publicist to drive them around downtown and the convention center while they performed on the back of a rented flat bed truck. Dura Delinquent circled the block as I exited the convention center on Friday afternoon and I will testify that these four guys and a girl had the people of Austin rocking out on the streets to their seamless funky jams. People were talking about it for the next two days. Now that's what I call creating your own buzz!

Attractive Indoor Paneling

After the Friday's Artists Panel, where musicians like Exene Cervenka, Beth Orton and Kinky Friedman discussed the topic of "How We Make Records," I got Richard "I'm Too Sexy" Fairbass of Right Said Fred to pose for a photo with me. Man, that guy is charming as hell and dead handsome, even if he is a pole smoker.

The UnConventional

This year's honorable mention for Best Booth Give-Away is a tie between the Spin booth -- where they made up for the fact that Alanis Morrisette is on the cover of the recent issue by giving out packages of Altoids (gotta have 'em) -- and the ASCAP exhibit, where folks lined-up in droves for a crack at creating timeless memories in one those photo sticker booths.

Too Many Bands and Not Enough Gail

It never fails that each night there will be three bands you feel you simply must see, playing all at the same time, as far away from each other as geographically possible. The standout musical experience for me was a blazing set by LA's PJ Olsson, who performed in the ballroom of the historic Driskoll Hotel on Thursday amidst a whirling psychedelic light show with the audience splayed out in rows of beanbag chairs. Far out. I will divide the rest of the bands I saw into those I would recommend and those who failed to please me.

New York City's Candy Butchers play out in the city about once a month but I had to go 2,000 miles to Austin to see and hear them for the first time. What an amazing band! Sort of a cross between Elvis Costello and the Jam, these guys will charm the pants off of you as they proceed to rock your Brit-pop-loving ass. And -- joy of joys! -- their CD was in the goody bag! I caught half a set by Chicago songstress, Diane Izzo, who's been compared to Patty Smith but is much darker and emotionally provocative than Smith ever was. Diane Izzo is like all the good things about New Orleans wrapped up in one amazingly talented lady. Her song, "Venice" will rip your heart right out of your chest. I highly recommend her new record, One, on Sugarfree records and I recommend catching her live show any time you can. Diane Izzo goes all the way and comes back. She's a goddess. San Francisco's Mover -- a retro experience of pure, visceral sex-rock -- moved me wildly before I ran off to check out part of a set by New York punks, The Kowalskis. I only left early because their bass player spit beer all over me and I had to go towel off. L.A.'s Street Walkin' Cheetahs are a bunch of insane maniacs who rock like the MC5. Their set at Emo's was followed, appropriately, by a solid performance by Wayne Kramer of that legendary band. Kick out the jams and come back for more Wayne! No matter how many times I see Boston's Jack Drag,

it's always a pleasure to watch this power-trio warp-time and blow a roomful of minds as only they can. It's worth noting that drummer, Jason Sutter, has been working out and growing his hair long since the band were dropped in the A&M label blood bath, and now resembles a serious sex god. I predict Jack Drag will be picked up by another major label soon. Former Guns 'n' Roses bassist, Duff McKagen, may have been casualty of Axl Rose's lost mind, but Duff has a new band called Loaded who smoke and burn. I saw them at The Atomic Cafe on Saturday night before Michelle and Bryan Judas Priest came and dragged me away saying we had to go "get in line" for the Spin party or we might not get in.

Sometimes you have to make a judgement call resulting in a waste of one half hour of your life that you will never get back. Some hipster friends of mine suggested I make the scene for L.A.'s Jupiter Affect over seeing girl punks, The Donna's. I should have followed my instincts. Fronted by former Three O'Clock Singer, Michael Quercio and featuring the giddy enthusiasm of former L.A. Weekly editor, Dan Epstein on guitar, Jupiter Affect have lots of energy but sound more or less like the Three O'Clock twenty years later. Analysis: Very very L.A. Even if their guitarist is a neighbor of mine, East Village local gals, The Friggs, who have been around longer than god, are really seriously over-rated. The Friggs are like a less-rocking version of the Runaways. If they were guys they would be booed off the stage in two seconds. I really went crazy over the latest Murder City Devils CD, but their show at Stubbs on Friday evening left me wet only because it started to rain while they were on stage. My friend Gordon described them as "So so so so not good." I hope it was just an off night. Maybe they're better at an indoor venue where they can destroy some furniture and set the stage on fire or something.

Mr. Thing

This year the competition was tough, but the much-sought-after title of Mr. Thing of South By Southwest 1999 goes to a lovely young man named Ian Rans. Ian is the art director for Toast (formerly Cake) magazine out of Minneapolis, Minnesota. Though Ian is barely out of infancy (22), he won me over at the Right Said Fred show when he lifted me into the air for some unknown reason. Maybe he just wanted to grab my ass, I don't know. Feats of strength aside, Ian has a great flair for fashion, looking so very fine at the Spin Magazine after hours party in his black and white hounds tooth suit, complimented by his very unnaturally-blond pompadour (and he isn't even into Swing)! Ian, when you start shaving, give me a call; in the meantime, feel free to flaunt your new credentials to pick up women in your home town.

Rock Star Quote of the Month

"I just understand he wasn't such a good dancer."

Australian singer/songwriter, Ben Lee, speaking of Psychedelic Furs frontman, Richard Butler, to whom he has recently been compared.

The Worley Gig: You've gotta burn to shine

This column regularly appears in both the NY Hangover and Pandemonium Online.

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