Austin group The Laughing sweep into town today with a nighttime gig at The Cavern on Lower Greenville. Fresh off the release of their debut album Fever, the group is beginning to gain traction on the crowded ATX music scene and recently played at the raucous Fun Fun Fun Fest.

Their music is a unique blend of genres across several decades, mixing elements of New Wave, Psychedelic, and Experimental Rock. It has a rumbling, haunting quality to it, with the somber hints of TV on the Radio but the more tribal infectiousness of the Talking Heads – think rock pop in shaman skin. Personal favorites from the album include the title track “Fever” and “Runner”.

Check out their oddly hypnotic website, or better yet, get some live The Laughing at the Cavern tonight.

The full moon casts an ominous glow over the thin veil of fog, snaking through a row of willow trees. A street lamp bathes a group of costumed revelers in an orange glow before they disappear once again down a lonely French Quarter street, their ghoulish laughter still audible in the darkness.  Two heads pop up from a dumpster, their painted faces permanently fixed in a leering skeleton’s smile. The pair offers a celebratory toast from their depleted wine bottle.

This particular event had the big names and indescribable performances to match any music festival this year, but it will not be remembered for such. It was evident that what made this an unforgettable time, was the pairing of the Halloween spirit and the irresistible mystique of sweet New Orleans – a match that made for many bizarre, macabre moments of joy.

And so, with much satisfaction, a recantation of the trip that was VOODOO Experience 2009:

Day One – Friday, October 30th

The car was silent as we drove into the heart of the Atchafalaya basin towards New Orleans. Heavy sheets of rain battered the windshield and kept visibility to a minimum. There were murmurs in the car as we stared ahead into a bleak wall of grey: “I hope I have dry socks tomorrow…” Half of us had just finished wringing out the rain from the damp, chilly weather at MONOLITH only a few months before.

We decided to stay in the Garden District in southwest New Orleans. Shout out to Terry the Professor for his notable hospitality. MeVersus greatly appreciates your generosity.

After a brief stint at local favorite Joey K’s, we arrived at the festival as intermittent fits of rain began to fall again. Predictably, our first encounter with oozing mud made its appearance as we struggled to the front gates. It would be a constant menace over the weekend.

There’s no doubt a better kickoff to a festival weekend exists outside the demonstrative trumpets signaling the start of the song “Genesis”, which instantly catalyzed the crowd into a screaming frenzy. As a whole, the Justice DJ set was solid but not as mind-boggling as expected, though it did produce what may be the most remarkable image of the festival. As the duo cued up “D-A-N-C-E”, the heaviest of the night’s downpours began. Picture a screaming, soaked mob caught in the pulsating strobe lights from the stage, a series of stop-motion images of rain and bodies frozen momentarily in fits of dancing.  Welcome to Voodoo.

Justice closed with a smoke filled finale and crowds plowed over to Eminem’s set and his obligatory entourage, D12. He kicked of the show with a gore filled intro video worth forgetting. This bloody greeting seemed to indicate we were in store for a Halloween show perfectly suited towards the apparent madness of Marshall Mathers, but the follow-up was sorely lacking. The show had all the expletives and bright lights of a large-scale hip-hop performance, but predicatively underwhelmed with little unique character. There were no qualms about leaving to begin exploring the nightlife.

Cue Taxi. Insert dose of music pouring out from bars and clubs. The evening’s standout spot was arguably Café Negril on Frenchmen St., whose reggae band kept ghosts and ghouls entrapped for hours as they haunted the dance floors.

An especially liberating moment came when the clock struck 2 AM – without skipping a beat, people danced as long as the music played. The people demanded more celebrating. 5AM never looked so sweet.

Day Two – October 31st

12:00PM – Pristine weather nudged us out of bed as we eagerly began exploring the Garden District area on foot. Our dread from the previous day’s weather dissipated in light of the cloudless skies and crisp temperature. Things were looking positive for VOODOO.

Magazine Street offers a wealth of boutiques and eclectic stores for the aimless pedestrian, and it was a joy to casually soak it all in. We had a wonderfully memorable brunch at a local favorite, Surrey’s. The meal (for godsakes you need to try their Banana Foster @#($*!#($) and the atmosphere was only outdone by the extremely adorable wait staff. Our waitress was the kindest vampire I’ve met yet.

MuteMath broke out into an extended jam session with drums and tambourines, finishing off their performance with a Monotonix-like antic when lead singer Paul Meany climbed on a tom drum held aloft by the audience and fell over into a crowd surf. Seen it Paul, step it up.

Festival constant Gogol Bordello came next, intoxicated with energy. His band ran through various instrument solos and had the crowd chanting refrains on every song. Gogol certainly has a tendency to get repetitive, particularly after you’ve seen his act a few times. Still, the traveling carnival he calls a band certainly seemed at home amongst the VOODOO experience.

Zombies everywhere. Festival organizers were trying to beat the world record for a single gathering of zombies that evening. The upcoming release of the video game Left 4 Dead 2, set in a New Orleans-esque city begs the question, will there be drunk partying zombies in the game also?

The festival offered a mix of street artists and other oddities to behold as part of the VOODOO culture. A party-bot roamed the grounds blasting electronic music (of course) and lights, as a shopping-cart-turned-metal-Trogdor belched smoke beside it. A small clearing of large floating balloons light up to a choreographed soundtrack playing over loudspeakers. Dishonorable mention goes to the over-sized pinata hanging from the trees, which proved to be nearly invincible till ladders, lights, and knives entered the arena.

Big Sam’s Funky Nation is highly recommended to anyone who likes the fusion of New Orleans brass and hip-hop; however, they won’t be challenging Galactic anytime soon. Chali 2na’s absence was felt this year.

Wolfmother put on a solid head-banging show, mixing classics like “Woman” with tracks from their new album Cosmic Egg. It doesn’t sound like losing two of the original founding members has set back the band too badly, and lead Andrew Stockdale is still a master of the rock “power stance.” It will be interesting to see if the band can avoid falling into the sophomore slump with Cosmic Egg.

MeVersus generally only describes the music and high-notes of the festival experience, but to ignore the more sinister aspects of these events would be ignorant. A particular event during the festival stands out as a recurring example. In the midst of a song, a young girl in her teens suddenly stops dancing, tilts momentarily, and drops to the floor in a wretched heap. Her friends rapidly pick her up from the ground and carry her off. She had the wide-eyed, oblivious look of a concussed nfl quarterback. Another group of youngsters eagerly fill the newly cleared void, laughing at her misfortune and at the chance to move ahead. The demographic was clearly younger than what MeVs has seen throughout the season. Albeit, scenes like this have occurred at all of the festivals we’ve attended. In the midst of the music and revelry, they can be quite sobering. She should read up on festival basics.

It seems appropriate to segue from there to the peculiar George Clinton and the Parliament Funkadelic. His band could only barely be called such. Each member dressed, moved, and acted as if on a different song (or planet), with members regularly leaving the stage mid-stanza, only to saunter back at some indiscriminate point later. Clinton didn’t show up until 20 minutes into his set. He didn’t speak for 20 minutes after that. When he did, it sounded like a disgruntled Chewbacca.  We couldn’t tell whether to be dancing or uncomfortable. Someone in our group whispered, “We’re watching these people slip into senility in real-time.”

With all of that in mind, George Clinton did bring the funk and the show was damn entertaining. Maybe he was helped by the aura of Halloween, maybe George Clinton and his crew of aged souls still have some 401 funk stowed away somewhere, but he managed to power his way through the show on will and bizarre shaman hand gestures alone. Funky – truly the only word for it.

We missed KISS that night. Texas (41) vs. Oklahoma St. (14) was a solid BCS victory. Regrets lingered after hearing several positive reviews of their performance, including a shout out from Wayne Coyne of The Flaming Lips.

The decision to leave the fest did allow us to eagerly hit the streets of NOLA once more, starting with the (in)famous Bourbon Street. We popped in for dinner at Tira Misu 55, and recommend it to anyone who’s looking for an affordable meal, a groove session, or both. Bourbon Street itself was a spectacle for all the wrong reasons: little more than a sardine packed street getting ridiculously drunk. We did a walk-through and, feeling satisfied, continued onwards to get more of the free music and character of Frenchmen Street.

This part of the journey was the unexpected treat. We strolled down a dimly lit street lined in distinctive French Creole architecture, as distant music wafted in on the breeze. Groups of costumed revelers would materialize out of the night under the watchful eye of the full moon. The trip seemed like stepping through a chapter of a Gothic novel. We submitted to the mood and picked up a bottle of wine for the remainder of the walk.

The evening was a never ending tour of live music, rooftops, narrow brick passageways, and dive bars. We doubt there is an instrument we didn’t hear at some point throughout the night.

Day Three – Sunday, November 1

Another gorgeous day began with a slow, relaxing wake up. Though thoughts of leaving NOLA and VOODOO were creeping in, there was still an afternoon to enjoy in post-Halloween reverie.

First meal of the day was lunch downtown at another at famous comfort restaurant, Mother’s. This tourist favorite is well-renowned for its authentic home style cooking and ridiculously loaded meat sandwiches. For anyone who is considering a future visit, a recommendation: make time for the post-meal pass out.

Due to the looming drive back to Texas, our Day 3 VOODOO was cut short. Luckily, The Flaming Lips make for one helluva of a one-band send off. Wayne Coyne and his troupe began the show with distinctive Lips flair. The first three members of the band were “born” by emerging from a portal shining out from the vagina of a giant, fluorescent green woman displayed on a huge LED screen. Coyne soon followed by rising from within his trademark human-hamster ball, growing in tandem as the ball inflated. He casually descended and began rolling on top of the audience, making a few rounds before rolling back on stage. The show proceeded with the usual colorful eye-candy, sprinkled with hysteria and groups of dancing women in bear costumes. At one point, one such bear was overcome with giddy enthusiasm and burst out of her clothes to dance alongside Wayne in the nude. The show ended to the audience loudly crooning to “Do You Realize?”, a sentimental ballad that was a sobering anthem to festival’s finale.

With a Wizard of Oz flying monkey marching band leading our exit procession, we had some time to mentally review the weekend’s events as New Orleans played its heart out, even after looking back to say good-bye. Their marching exit anthem epitomized the entire weekend experience – a dirty, seemingly uncoordinated party, rambling onward to sweep everything up in a wave of music, mud, and romantic mayhem. This is VOODOO alright.

More pictures from the weekend on our flickr page and full size at the the slideshow.

MeVersus MONOLITH 2009:

Saturday, September 12

sold out emergency ponchos

From the moment we walked onto the grounds of Red Rocks, it was obvious the weather would be the starring attraction for the day. Rather than the intermittent and quickly passing rainstorms that had been described to us by countless Denver natives, the rain remained a constant annoyance from minute one with few breaks from the incessant, spitting drizzle the rest of the day. The gray, hanging clouds robbed the famous surroundings of any color and the temperature was just low enough to affect anyone without a rain poncho – of which there were many.

The Answering Machine

Still, we didn’t fly out to Denver to bitch and moan and they don’t sell hater-aid at Red Rocks. For any newb to Red Rocks, it’s surprising to see how much they’ve built around the natural stage. The impressive guest center and additional stages complimented the festival proceedings well. We first caught the UK’s The Answering Machine at one of the indoor stages and left intrigued by their similarity to an American band, The Ramones.

Our first impression of the famous amphitheatre itself was OK Go at the main stage. They were able to get the crowd moving to their trademark anthem “Here It Goes Again,” but their formal dress stood in stark contrast to the dripping festival goers. Lead singer Damian Kulash admitted as much in saying, “It’s a little sissy ass of me to be under this tent,” after which he jumped from the stage to perform his next song in the rain as well (half jokingly describing a possibility of death by electrocution .)

At the top of the amphitheatre was The Walkmen on the Southern Comfort stage. Hamilton Leithauser’s amazingly sharp voice cut through the gray midday, reaching a crescendo with the churning drums and long wails of the song “The Rat.”  Still, they could muster little out of the crowd, whose initial festival enthusiasm was visibly blunted by the increasing rain and chill wind.

Back on the main stage, M. Ward’s eerie Western folk actually made for a great accompaniment with the day’s melancholy; finger picked twangs of his acoustic guitar sounding especially rich. Perhaps it’s only natural a Portland native could seem so at home in the soaked surroundings.

Doom

We ascended back up to catch Doom, which suffered from technical difficulties and was delayed into half his set. You could tell the audience had a short fuse: catcalls and yells began despite the emcee’s best efforts to please the waiting mob with off-the-cuff freestyles. The crowd noticeably began to thin soon after the show began. Doom himself didn’t help much, stomping around stage doing little to match the mindless bouncing posse around him. Though our noses were stuffed from the cold weather, the stink of predictable generic hip-hop antics still made it through. MeVs has strong suspicion that Doom was lip-syncing the rhymes as well, recalling a SXSW show that sounded nothing like this set.

Greg Gillis and company

Girl Talk then did his best to rally the masses, bringing his signature party atmosphere, toilet paper guns, balloons, confetti, and dance troupe to the amphitheatre stage. He did as good a job as can be expected under the worsening rain: standing next to the main speakers as my body vibrated like a Mexican jumping bean, it was easy to ignore the evening chill as we danced to his lighthearted mixes. Gillis managed to corral a rain soaked mob to sway with his mash-up masterpieces. One might say the drops of moisture added to the chaotic awesome, like confetti at a parade. Still, the Red Rocks stage did come with its drawbacks. Unlike aforementioned venues Lollapalooza and Sasquatch, the main stage had a gaping VIP and media area that created a visible and emotional division between the stage and the crowd, an uncharacteristic distinction for a Gregg Gillis performance.

Kevin Barnes of Of Montreal

The low point of the day came with the Of Montreal set back at the SoCo stage. MeVs was eagerly anticipating this set after being notably blown away by their shows at Norman, Sasquatch, and Houston’s Summer Music Fest. But this entry left much to be desired. Perhaps the stage was still suffering from the sound problems which had plagued Doom, but the music sounded surprisingly flat and droning, and even Kevin Barnes seemed listless. After the show, murmurs of,  “what the hell just happened?” lurked throughout the dissipating crowd.  It seemed the weather had claimed another victim. We hope to see a resurrection at Fun Fun Fun Fest.

Karen O of Yeah Yeah Yeahs

Alas, day one would find some redemption. Surprisingly, the Yeah Yeah Yeahs were the antithesis of the day’s drawbacks.  Lead singer Karen O seemed hell bent on saving the day with her uninhibited dancing, soulful crooning, and dramatic poses,  re-injecting some electricity into the evening. An especially poignant moment came with recent popular track “Maps” – after she had quietly whispered the lines “They don’t love you like I love you,”  paused a moment, then ran forward to the crowd with an emphatic “I DO!” She could have been speaking about every other act at MONOLITH. There’s no doubt this was the premier act of Day One.

We ended the day grateful for warm showers and dry drying socks.

Sunday, September 13, 2009

Kid vs. Wind - Kid ftw

After much needed rest and shelter (Thanks Cassie and Kyle!), MeVs recharged and fueled up in anticipation of the day’s events. Things were going to be much better for the festival’s second installment when seeing first clear sight of Red Rocks, rather than the uniform gray from the day before. Though clouds and intermittent sprinkles did threaten from time to time, the weather was far more agreeable and the sun even made a few bold appearances.  In turn, the festival not only drew more attendees that second day, but also began with a palpable sense of renewed energy in the air.

Cheeky vocals from lead Ami Shalev

And what better way to kick off the events than with our favorite Israeli garage band, The Monotonix. They brought their fist pumping, hair-ridden act to the same Southern Comfort stage that had taken so many casualties the day before. Lead singer Ami Shalev led the crowd through primal choruses of whoops when he wasn’t dousing them with nearby liquids or ass-cheek monologues, sprinkled with classic stints of crowd surfing and instrument tossing. Though, we suspect they were told to turn the crazy down a notch for MONOLITH: the show stopped oddly short and Shalev didn’t climb or launch himself from the stage rafters as he has done at every other opportunity. Still, the show was trademark chaos from start to finish and we left disheveled, sweaty, and bruised.

Due to MSTRKRFT canceling , some shows were reshuffled in the afternoon and the resulting confusion was only increased by the poor communication – a remarkable mistake for such a small festival ground. Still, we were able to catch a couple of groups bringing dance and electronic beats to the afternoon crowd: the trio The Glitch Mob on the main stage, and the French Horn Rebellion in the diminutive MadeLoud.com stage.

Red Man

This dance warm-up was followed fittingly with Method Man and Redman on the Main Stage, who were surprisingly entertaining in a scene not often associated with hip-hop prowess.  The duo incessantly jumped from one end of the stage to another, constantly evoking the crowd’s love of all things 90′s and Wu-Tang.  At one point, Method Man, dressed appropriately in Colorado Rockies merchandise, eagerly ran into the midst of the crowd with an unrestrained and infectious enthusiasm. It did seem as though their entire tour was a brilliant marketing act to reinvigorate viewers for 2001 Emmy award winning How High. I would’ve kindly left this conspiracy at that, until they unveiled their current efforts for upcoming blockbuster,  How High 2… Though it was obvious the group was relying upon cached star power from their glory days, they still managed to channel it into a riotous midday set. Word.

The early evening slot was filled with a pleasant surprise from rising stars Deer Tick, who played on the intimate Woxy.com indoor stage. Their mix of folk, country, and grunge definitely suited the cozy room.  Then a small taste of Passion Pit back at the Southern Comfort Stage, whose spirited electronic rock helped carry us over as we began to wait for a MeVs favorite, Chromeo.

Dave 1 of Chromeo

Coming out to flashing strobes and the wailing chants of “Chromeoooo…” P-Thugg and Dave 1 went through the full line of their greatest hits, taking time in between songs to talk of upcoming plans (Texas tour!!), give props to fans, and spit on the talk box from behind their instantly recognizable stiletto-heeled keyboards. Dave 1 mentioned the release of a song in the coming weeks from a yet-to-be-named new album in development. Finishing the set off with an encore of the tender “100%,” the two even stayed after to sign autographs and take photos with needy girls. As much as Karen O had done the previous night, Chromeo produced some true Bonafide Lovin’ for their devoted fans.

Still dazed and confused from the electricity of the Gangsta duo, we made our way over to see The Mars Volta and were treated to a taste of their high-energy mix of heavy metal, punk, and psychedelic rock. Singer Cedric Bixler-Zavala’s wailing ballads were an oddly serene send off as we got our final view from the Red Rocks amphitheatre, a shrouded downtown Denver glowing in the distance.

Happily dying Chromeo fan

And so ended MONOLITH 2009.  Those who were able to overcome the difficulties of weather visibly demonstrated what separates the average artist from a true performer.

It’s a shame Saturday was so affected by the gloomy conditions, but it’s simply a case of bad festival luck. If anything, a valuable lesson was learned: always pack that emergency rain poncho. Thanks Mom.

More pictures after the jump >>

The Montonix

Do not put hands near Ami Shalev

As we witnessed first hand at Sasquatch, The Monotonix are a hairy, sweaty punch to your musical solar plexus. Their latest U.S. release, Where Were You When It Happened, couldn’t be a more appropriate description of their music: heavy, droning rock chords and banging drums that verge on the simplistic, but that tap into the cave grunt dwelling within us all, manifested perfectly in their chaos-driven live shows. They don’t play venues – they are a venue unto themselves. Lead singer Ami Shalev uses anything around him as prop or launching pad as he rants incoherent Hebrew or English, with guitarist Yonatan Gat and drummer Haggai Fershtman constantly remaking what defines a stage. How they’ll transform the Red Rocks Amphitheater to their own circus is yet to be seen, but it will no doubt decide the age old battle of “Man v. Geology”.

I fear for the venue they’re playing on their Denton tour stop, Rubber Gloves. The thought of these wild men in an enclosed space both titillates and disturbs me. Dallas people, I implore you all – if you can’t catch them at Monolith, don’t miss them when they hit Denton!

Man sweat. Yelling. Fists. Mustaches. Tasty riffs. That is all.

The Mars Volta

The Mars Volta

I think no other band I’m aware of has been described as being “an acquired taste” more than these El Paso natives. The vast majority of first time experiences with the group result in confused stares or outright rejection, which (ashamedly) includes the reaction I first had upon hearing one of their more recognizable songs, “Inertiatic Esp”. I remember the feeling, “I like all of the influences here, but I’m not getting the sum of their parts”. Radio rock it ain’t: their thick, heady mixture of metal, psychedelic rock, punk, and Hispanic balladry takes time to dissect, but it’s well worth the wait. Once smitten, you’ll easily find yourself yearning for their renowned live performances, which naturally seem a better forum for their experimental sound and passionate lyrics. I imagine the crimson hues and cavernous setting of Red Rocks will add an especially dramatic edge to this set.

MSTRKRFT

MSTRKRFT

Next to my high anticipation for Chromeo, I’m eagerly awaiting the dance pit that MSTRKRFT is sure to generate. This bass laden electronic duo mashes other dance hits and hip hop into a mix that easily evokes Daft Punk’s “Robot Rock” or Justice’s anything. While Chromeo may have the upper hand in terms of lyricism and melody, I predict MSTRKRFT will be the show to turn MONOTLITH into a scene creepily reminiscent of Zion’s cave dance hall from The Matrix 2, with less suck.

MONOLITH Music Festival 2009

After much anticipation, MeVersus is happy to announce that we’ll be heading to the famed Red Rocks Amphitheatre to cover the MONOLITH Music Festival the weekend of September 12-13.

Among the artists appearing will be MeVersus stalwarts Of Montreal, Girl Talk, and Chromeo. Don’t be afraid to gawk at the rest of the lineup though: Yeah Yeah Yeahs, The Mars Volta, MSTRKRFT, MF DOOM, and Method Man & Redman are just some of the other notables crammed into two solid days. 

And remember those crazy Israelis The Montonix?  They’re making sure this will be a hairy event. 

Stay tuned for preview posts about some of our favorites artists and more leading up to the fest.

Free Press Summer Fest

MeVersus is set to cover the Free Press Summer Fest, going down in our own backyard of Houston on August 8^th and 9^th. The two day fest features national and local bands, including favorites Of Montreal (again!), Broken Social Scene, and Austin’s own The Octopus Project.

Tickets are very reasonable for the talent coming into town, with two day passes going for $16 and one days selling for $10. Plus, there’s going to be water gun and water balloon battles going down – a perfect way to combat the grueling Texas heat that will be decimating festival goers.

For the price, acts, and entertainment, this is a fest you don’t want to miss.

Ok, its understandable that you probably didn’t agree with all of that. But give me a moment to explain the virtues of CouchSurfing.org, and you might think differently about the idea.

In a nutshell, CouchSurfing is an international, online community that connects travelers to one another, most often by having its members offer their homes up as housing for other travelers. You communicate with other members through an online profile akin to a Facebook profile, which is used to contact potential hosts and receive housing requests from other members. Members have access to what can be thought of as the world’s largest hostel network; in turn, they “pay it forward” by extending the same courtesy to other travelers.

Most people greet this idea with familiar line of questioning: How could this be safe? What if I don’t want people staying at my house? Uhh, how could this be safe?

CouchSurfing uses several methods to ensure the safety of its members. The most important of these is the referral system, which gathers all of the comments from people who have hosted you and/or been hosted by you, and then posts these comments on your online profile. Other members then use these referrals as indicators of your dependability and as a way to decide whether they should host or contact you. Having positive referrals usually means people will be more willing to trust you, while a lack of referrals may hurt your chances to host or be hosted.

As with any  social network, the ultimate value and safety of CouchSurfing is entirely within in the hands of the user. You’ll never have to host someone if you don’t want to, and you can set guidelines as to how and when other members can stay at your place. For example, I always ask to speak on the phone with a person before I accept their housing request – I find it much more reassuring to talk to someone rather just relying on online correspondence.

Hosting isn’t even a requirement of the site. You can offer to meet travelers for a cup of coffee or to show them something in your city. In fact, many initial CouchSurfing users pick this option as a means to build referrals and confidence before offering to host travelers in their homes.

If you’re willing to get past the initial skepticism, you can reap some pretty amazing benefits  from the system. Having a worldwide network of places to stay on the cheap obviously opens up a great deal of possibilities for any traveler. But free housing isn’t as rewarding as being able to stay and interact with local hosts. Everyone says they don’t want to do the “touristy” things when they travel, but how can you really avoid this in a place you know nothing about?  CouchSurfing connects you with locals in a truly revolutionary way, and most hosts are more than willing to share their cultures and hometown idiosyncrasies with their guests. I’m always eager to show the best that Texas has to offer to visiting CouchSurfers.

The world is smaller than you think

There’s something grander at work here that’s worth noting. CouchSurfing brings together people and different cultures in ways that might not otherwise be possible. A rock band from Portland, a young couple from New York, a piano player from Idaho – these are just a few of the people I’ve come across due to CouchSurfing, and each one has been an eye-opening and remarkable experience. It’s a neat little idea that truly brings the world together.

I made a PDF summary of what CouchSurfing is all about – pass it on to anyone that may be interested in learning more. Happy surfing!

The Pink Snowflakes

Meversus has the pleasure of hosting Portland band The Pink Snowflakes this weekend as they drive through town on their national road trip tour. Catch their brand of psychedelic visual rock tonight at the Lakewood Bar and Grill at 7 PM, and for god’s sake tip these traveling musicians – they need their van fixed!

Five!

Five dollar!

Five dollar footlong! pitchers of beer, bitches.

If you’re looking for an affordable bar night, check out the “Ice House” on Yale Boulevard, close to the intersection with Greenville Avenue. It’s owned by the same people who own the “Across the Street Bar” immediately next door, but you wouldn’t guess that from looking at them side-by-side.

“Across the Street Bar” is usually jam-packed on Fridays and weekends, while the “Ice House” seems like a relative ghost town all the time. Apart from the lone bartender who works there, I have yet to see anyone inside. In addition, “Ice House” is a cash-only, beer-only establishment with a mere 4 or 5 beers on tap to choose from, which contrasts with the fully stocked bar over at “Across”. Plus, “Ice House” looks like the kind of place you might go to quietly rape someone or do meth. Pretty it ain’t.

But underneath these cosmetic setbacks lies the golden nugget. $5 pitchers of beer, everynight, from 8 till close. Five bucks, including a Shiner pitcher. I don’t care what part of Dallas you’re from – that’s a steal.

The place does have its own unique charm too. In addition to a spacious patio with tables (summer’s on the way people), you get a bartender named Delmo who knows magic. Not tricks, but real deal magic (as he put it, “tricks are for whores”).

So if you want a quiet vibe with cheap, refreshing beer for a weeknight, I suggest skipping the noise and expense of your typical joint and visit the “Ice House” instead.

But that debate is for another day. The more realistic question for north Texans looking for a casino thrill is whether to game in Louisiana or Oklahoma. Time for a heads-up showdown.

Oklahoma gambling starts the contest with a glaring advantage: proximity. The closest Okie casino is a little over an hour’s drive from DFW, making for a much more realistic day-trip adventure. Plus, you might be able to convince a buddy to pick your broke ass up if things get out of hand.

The casinos up north don’t skimp on the pageantry either – there are enough gaudy interior designs, incessant blinking lights and mildly interesting music headliners to keep pace with what Louisiana has to offer.

But that’s where the OK advantages come to an end; unfortunately, there are a myriad of different rules and restrictions that hamper the experience. State laws restrict what type of games can be played in casinos, prohibiting popular choices such as craps and roulette. It seems like an odd prohibition when games like high-stakes poker and blackjack are still allowed. Anyone have an explanation for that one?

OK Casinos are associated with different American Indian tribes, and each comes with its own rules for what kind of alcohol can be served and where it can be served. Many don’t allow drinks on the gambling floor at all, or force you into cordoned “bar areas”. Some don’t even allow liquor at all, leaving you to buy the infamous Oklahoma 3.2% beer. It makes you thirsty for Lone Star.

This is where Louisiana has the decisive edge. Shreveport and Lake Charles riverboat casinos don’t make such demands from its drones, having the full array of table, card, and slot machine games to choose from. And forget drinking restrictions – many of the big casinos actually give you free “you-call its” to keep playing where you sit. How liberating!… and disturbing.

There’s also a uniqueness to Louisiana casinos that is sorely lacking in Oklahoma. Perhaps it’s the state’s long history with gambling, its freewheeling inhabitants, or delicious Cajun food, but there’s a personality here that you don’t get in OK.

I tend to seek a sense of freedom when it comes to gambling, the foolish romanticism with the “anything goes” spirit. It’s a dangerous feeling if you don’t remember that casinos are in the business of losing you money, but if you keep yourself grounded, it can still make for a great evening win or lose.

Oklahoma casinos try to blend acceptable risk and Bible-belt morals. It’s an awkward pairing. You lose double because you don’t have the freedom to lose like you want to lose*. If you gamble heavily, don’t have the time for a weekend trip, or are just scared of Shreveport (which I won’t hold against you), then head north to Oklahoma and get it over with.

If you’re the type who rarely goes gambling and wants to get more of the “experience”, I recommend you make the trip to Louisiana instead. I’d wager you’ll enjoy the weekend more than an Oklahoma day trip, even if you look just as foolish for pissing away your paycheck.

*What a stupid thought. It makes me want to seek Buddha.