SwampLog 3.0

Who's Got The Deep Ellum Blues?

Originally posted at my new digs at Metroblogging: Dallas. Gravitas.

I swear to Bog, I'm not going to whine. I'm not.

Okay, maybe a little.

There was a ten-year period where the North Texas area had some of the most phenomenal live music options. You had an influx of phenomenal rock and funk bands from Denton, a plethora of potent acts in Dallas spanning the musical spectrum, and Fort Worth was brimming with scads of hard rock and soul outfits. On any given weekend night, you could go to Deep Ellum and see an amazing live club gig from a band that you just knew was going to be the Next Big Thing.

Of course, that was before the Great Gentrification of Ellum.

I'd like to think it was a gradual sloping off of the coolness factor, but the truth is the climate of the district changed a lot in the mid-1990s. Bring me your tired cliches of crime, gangs and hooliganism, your yearning to return to a simpler time. You know the story -- the Dallas Observer has chronicled the Decline of Deep Ellum for the last 20 years. Hell, I remember a cover story in the Observer as far back as 1991, claiming the current residents were fearful that the higher dollar developers were invading Ellum and stealing its soul.

I didn't believe it then. I sure as hell believe it now.

Last month, I did a Saturday fill-in DJ gig at The Bone. It was the week before Christmas, and a fairly dead night. I was floored to find out that we had the second-highest amount of people on Elm Street, and I was certain I was tanking. When I asked who had more people, I expected to hear it would be Trees or Dada. Instead, it was Lazers.

Now, Trees is gone. When you don't pay your rent for two months straight, you can expect to get your doors locked. But what really stuns me is the lack of hue and cry from people who love, live for local music. Where was the "Save The Trees" fund-raising concert? Where was the groundswell support movement that would have kept Trees open and functioning?

From all accounts, nowhere. The owners, Entertainment Collaborative, kept holding out hope that a white knight would swoop in and buy Trees at the 11th hour, and that never happend. The space's landlord, the Belmor Corporation, is actively looking for new tenants -- so, if you're thinking about opening up a live music venue with a bit of capital to burn, get moving.

Dada's gone, too. Didn't pay taxes. Not to go all L33T here, but WTF?

Sure, it's depressing to think about it. Wail and moan all you want. But, once you're done with that, ask yourself a couple of questions.

* What are you going to do about it? The concept of taking ownership of something as big as a live music district is a bit daunting, but a handful of people did just that in the late 1980s. Jeff Liles, Russel Hobbs, Charlie Gilder, and Jeff Swaney did it. Where are the people who will -- or can -- step up now?

* If they build it, will you come? Have your nightlife instincts changed so much (as, I fear, mine have) that the thought of heading to Deep Ellum gives you a headache? The shrinking parking options, the crackdown on cruising that makes navigating the district a nightmare, the bonehead goombahs out looking for a meaningless fight...

I want to believe that the answer to one of Dallas' music scene problems is forthcoming. The question is, is it too little, too late?

A Literary Master

One of the guys my mother dated in the '80s was a bookhound. he knew of my love for Ian Fleming's work, and loaned me a copy of The Eiger Sanction. I got hooked immediately, and started to seek out more work from the book's author, Trevanian. He was a brilliant craftsman, and I enjoyed each book I found. My favorite was Shibumi, a book I absorbed one summer and return to on occasion to remind myself of how a master works.

Trevanian, born Rodney Whitaker, died in London today. Dammit.

...And The Classics From Pearl Jam...

I love writing at Starbucks, especially when I'm waiting for traffic to subside after the final tech support call of the day leaves me stranded across town from the Swamp. There's never a lack of good people watching, as all types of folks come in to get their fix.

My problem with being a people watcher is that I want to jump in on people's conversations when I have the answer to one of their questions... or when I want to smack some idiot upside the skull when something they say drives me to scream.

Some Gen-Y goombah sitting at the next table just asked his girlfriend, "Who's the lead singer for the Rolling Stones?" His girlfriend told him Mick Jagger, and he replies, "Oh, yeah."

He proceeds to do that intermittently over the next ten minutes for Foo Fighters, Nirvana, U2, Van Halen, and Coldplay. His girlfriend dutifully answered each question.

The last thing I heard him say, as they were leaving to get into his brand new Range Rover, was "I'm really getting into old music, like Nirvana."

Aaaaaaaauughhhh! Sometimes I wish my my fingers emitted mace!

Oooh, Big Daddy

Okay, when Woody Allen decided to hook up with his at-the-time-adopted-daughter Soon-Yi Previn, I thought the whole thing was goofy as hell and just a little bit creepy. After all, they weren't related, and April - October relationships are prevalent in the entertainment biz, even if you're Woody Allen.

Well, it's gone straight to damned creepy as hell, as this IMDb story notes:

[Allen] is unabashed when he admits that his relationship with Previn is paternal and he enjoys the power his successful life gives him in their relationship. He says, "(Our marriage) has a more paternal feeling to it... I love to do things to make her happy. She loves to do things to make me happy."

Ew. Ewwww, ew, ew, ewwww!

Garçon Means [Snik]

You know what my dining experience needs? Ninjas.

Banded Together

I've worn a LiveSTRONG bracelet since November 2004, and bought three batches of them to give to friends and family. In that time, there have been a ridiculous proliferation of the Rubber Wrist Bands, or RWBs, in ever corner of America. ESPN has a decent article on the history of the RWB meme.

As attached as I am to my yellow silicone band, I saw something yesterday that made me want to rip mine off forever. I was getting some stuff at Target, when I spied the cashier wearing a red RWB. For TARGET.

They've gone beyond promoting awareness, and now they're just product placement. I had hoped the blue Miller Lite bracelet I saw this year was a fluke, but I guess I was wrong.

Instead of stomping my bracelet into the ground, I made a decision to wear mine long past when everyone else thinks it's cool. That may take a while, as they're still everywhere.

That's okay. I can wait.

Are You Ready For Some Outrage?

Okay, I understand ABC wanting to promote 'Desperate Housewives,' and I didn't think the 'Monday Night Football' stunt with Terrell Owens was all that bad.  But, if ABC was that regretful about the spot, why are they letting ESPNews (owned by the same parent company, Disney) run the damned thing every 30 minutes?

Don't Open That Door!

Just in case you end up at a large party, or out in the woods, or are getting ready to lose your virginity at a Halloween party... and a large masked maniac has you squarely in his sights, use this handy survival guide from the fine folks at MoviePoopShoot.com. Pure genius.

Plan 86 From Hollywood

Unlike George Lucas, who keeps remaking his own movies so you don't have to, Hollywood is obsessed with remaking movies that were done right the first time. Current case in point: the redux of The Manchurian Candidate. Critics seem to like it just fine, but no one whom I've talked to liked it at all. This led to my oft-repeated statement: there's no reason to remake movies that were done right the first time.

Kevin brought up a great suggestion: why aren't we remaking bad movies? I, for one, would love to see Emmerich and Devlin tackle Plan 9 From Outer Space. The zombies would look so much better, and they'd get to blow up New York yet again

Song Lyric That Woke Me Up At 4:47 am

"And when I see you down, I want to pick you up /
I want to give you hope /
And remind you of the best of times."

-- Sara Hickman