
Editor’s note: Pastiche is a bi-weekly column exploring the diversity within the Austin music community. The views expressed in Pastiche are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the outlook or beliefs of anyone else in the IST network.
Of all the unglamorous baggage that comes with making music, practicing sits down there with loading equipment, hustling demos and repairing the tour van after it starts smoking and burping up weird smells outside of Oklahoma City. With so much hoo-hah made of recording, performing live, and the solitary act of writing and working out a song, practice is overlooked, and understandably so. Practice is band homework. Parts are tinkered with, songs are run through again and again, ideas swapped and scrapped and a lucky few make the cut. But what practice does is prepare a band for both the studio and the stage. Improvisation, musical cues and comfort with the material are sometimes innate things, but more often are learned in the spaces where chops are put to the test.
We wanted to dig a little deeper into where bands in Austin get their practicing done, and in the search for interesting spaces we ran across the usual collection of homes and accommodating spaces like The Music Lab. The three bands in this pictorial took a different route: the neo-psychedelic Ume work on their songs in an office enclosed in a business park off of 183, Brothers and Sisters rent a storage space in north Austin, and the Pillow Queens practice in a warehouse off Burleson road. While different, the unifying factors of sweat, inexpensive beer, clutter and a getting-shit-done mantra were there for all three.
Ume, who have raised enough eyebrows to get added to the
Fun Fun Fun Fest line-up for this weekend, invited us into their space on a weekday night around ten p.m.. The trio share their office with
Australian Cattle God records, and a common area with a jewelry store. Talking with band members Lauren, Eric and Jeff, we were informed that the business park also housed an iffy Pentecostal congregation, and was formerly the home of a “masseuse parlor” that had since been busted by the cops. The non-descript, beige practice room and anterooms were filled with the trappings of any office - grey file cabinets, a ratty couch and fluorescent lighting, but also the unique touch of ancient amps, promo cds, a gas can and an issue of National Geographic from the eighties. The practice room itself was unsurprisingly full of equipment, and a set of novelty-sized yellow letters were perched above the window. Advantages of this space were evident, and included its anonymity, relative peace and quiet and the band’s freedom to play as loud and as late as they desire.
We also visited
Brothers and Sisters, who, it turns out, are headlining our own
Local Music is Sexy party on Friday. The band rehearses in a mini-storage
waaay up on the north side, a little community of sliding red doors and sterile lighting nearly hidden from the road. While walking up to the band’s space, I heard something unusual and thought, “Man, they’ve added horns? That sounds good!” As it turns out, Brothers and Sisters haven’t added horns and it actually sounded really weird – despite being told they were the only band practicing in the space, a Tejano band had rented an area just a door or two down, and the cacophony of Brothers and Sisters’ folky country-rock and the competition of the canned synthesizer squawks and drums of their neighbors was no doubt going to cause problems. Once an eight-piece and now down to five, all but singer Lily Courtney were accounted for this evening, and the group ran through “You’re Gone” for us, effectively drowning out the adjacent act for the time being. Of all the bands who let us drop by, Brothers and Sisters seemed least in need of practice, and were so tight that I had to remind myself I wasn’t watching them perform. A fan, another ratty couch and
Beatles ephemera decorated the practice space, and after a song or two we said our goodbyes, shut the sliding door and left them to their jams.
Last we visited garage-rockers the
Pillow Queens, who have a space in a warehouse on Burleson next to a Tejano club. Not just for band practice, their friends and artists also utilize the space, including Michelle Devereux. See her at work and talking about sharing the space with other artists and other warehouse renters like the Texas Rollergirls and “a venue for ravers”
right here. The accumulation of artists and ideas also means an accumulation of stuff, and the Pillow Queens practice area definitely had the biggest buildup of funny, weird shit. We’re talking about a gold exercise bike, faux-marble columns, a plaster rooster, spray paint and stencils, yet another ratty couch, tons of paint, stuffed bears, etc. The sheer buildup of kooky crap everywhere was astounding, and I genuinely felt sorry for guitarist and singer Will Slack when he told me the warehouse would soon cease to be their base of operations and that they’d have to move everything out of there. Bassist Eric Loftis was missing in action and someone forgot to bring the microphones, so practice for the Pillow Queens this evening was truncated and atypical.
Still, as with seeing the spaces where all of the other bands performed, there’s something intimate, relaxed and modest about it all - something charming and surprising about seeing where a group of musicians come together to become a band. Each practice space was like a workshop, a neutral environment very unlike the hardscrabble world of touring or on-stage ecstasy. In fact, a loud library or study lounge is a more accurate description. Unsung and only begrudgingly loved, practice makes musical romance possible. Keep practicing, Austin.
Ume: [website] [myspace]
Brothers and Sisters: [website] [myspace]
Pillow Queens: [myspace]
The author would like to thank Arian and Jesse for all of their help, which includes but was not limited to sharing rides and all of the great photography you see here.
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