Once a year, the legends say, when the girls are prettiest and the beef is so tender it peels off the bone and onto the barbecue, leaving little unwrapped baby cows and leather jackets and cowboy boots already made behind it; once a year, for one week only (the legends say), when the hours of the Texas clock spin and turn and the days last for just one moment, and the nights that follow last forever, until the next day comes; once, just once a year, and once a year only, say the wise women and the shadowy men, it’s time to go to Austin for the South by Southwest Music Conference.
Where we will eat ourselves silly, drink until our feet hurt, ponder the impossibilities of this strange music business, and see all manner of bands.
There’s a laptop in the bags this year, so there may be some Pepper posts over the next week; I’m corresponding for Music Dish Magazine, but Pierre may find spare hours to bring you up to date on the flavor and shennanigans. If we aren’t able to keep in touch, we’ll see you next week. Pardner.
My Dad turned 75 on Sunday; it was the first day, as he puts it, of his fourth quarter. Now that’s a milestone. Happy birthday!