The Journey of Randy Spacemachine and Luger Axehandle

We left the Black Lips madness at Waterloo Park and started around the city of Austin in our multi-colored van which looks very much like a vehicle you would see in La Paz, Mexico, a real butt-hole kind of a city, with a fresh case of Tecate and bent attitudes. It had been a long day, we were drunk, stoned, weathered. We had been drinking consistently since 12 noon at the compound where we started with a solid base of “El Gato” tequila margaritas in preparation for the Mean Eyed Cat. The day was one that was going to be hard to beat and full of loud music and craziness. “How much louder can it possibly go?”  I thought. Our ears and our brains were maxxed out, but we pressed on.

As we circled the pink state capital building, former home of George W. Bush, towards 6th street, the Juanita situation came to a head. Earlier in the day, she suffered a ruthless ego-fucking when Dan Auerbach blew her off after she professed her love to him, and she now was hanging out the passenger side window yelling obscenities and threatening violence at any hipster zombies who happened to be in her line of fire.  Unbeknownced to Randy and myself, this incident earlier struck a deep chord with Juanita and it had been festering since that moment, through many cocktails and beers and loud reverberating music, most of which she wasn’t any mood for. With one hand on the wheel I began swerving and grabbing ammunition out of her hands and tossed it to the back of the van for safety, this ensued for close to 35 minutes as we attempted to squeeze out the last parking spot in the downtown area. Cops were everywhere and I feared the wrath of the Austin PD. It couldn’t end this way. Or could it?

God intervened and a parking spot was found, but not after some immigrant in an orange vest demanded $10 for the spot and threatened to have me towed if I didn’t pay him. I cursed him and handed over my precious beer money. Luckily we had thought ahead and bought those ice cold Tecates, which we were now stuffing in any available pocket. Randy and I left Juanita to simmer down in the van, where she could get her much needed rest, a nap was definitely in order.

If we had any question as to how loud it could get, it was answered very quickly at the Headhunters patio by the Ortiz brothers of Amplified Heat. These guys are the loudest mother-fucking band I have ever heard. They literally have two matching walls of fender amps with multiple amp heads with a drum-set in between, all of which was stacked on the patio in a 10′ x 10′ area. The people, which included Randy Spacemachine, myself and David Fricke, senior editor at Rolling Stone, were packed in like sardines around this tiny stage getting ear-holed by Amplified Heat as they kicked out “Bipolar” and some other Heat favorites. The crowd consisted mostly of old burnt out rocker types and at one point, Jim Ortiz, (guitar & vocals) threatened violence (”was this a trend?” I thought.) at anyone who stepped on his foot pedals. People were getting unruly and Jim’s attitude was a clear reflection of the collective mental exacerbation.

Amplified Heat has a truly menacing and loud blues rock sound. Check them out at amplifiedheat.com. They show no mercy and have no sympathy for anyone in their way. Towards the end of the set, Jim said something truly righteous when he snarled, “We have CD’s and hot sauce for sale! See us after the show!” A truly stunning and magnificent Gonzolandia-approved marketing tactic. Unfortunately for us, we had limited resources and were not able to secure any hot sauce but we did have enough money for a few more beers.

We left the venue with an ear gouging of the tallest order, a fitting end to a chaotic week of debauchery and booze. Of course an hour was still left of ‘bar time’ so we looked around and spotted to perfect place to end this rotten journey, at Beerland. Our smuggled rations were depleted and they offered their beer cheap, large & cold. And so the cycle continues… and we will be there to search for the next episode of absurdity, debauchery, righteousness or douchebaggery in this country and beyond. And as long as there are humans on this planet, there will be no lack of these type of episodes and we intend to seek them out. And so our fearless correspondents drift off into the Austin moonlit night, depravity in tow… cue “Gimme Shelter” and roll the credits….

Gimme Shelter

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