On Aug. 12, 1972, a short-haired, clean-shaven Willie Nelson stepped onto the stage at the Armadillo World Headquarters in Austin for his first concert at that storied venue. It's considered the Big Bang of Austin, Texas being known as a music mecca. "The word on this groovy bohemian cowboy scene got out via dispatches in Rolling Stone from Chet Flippo, a grad student attending UT on the G.I. Bill," according to this article by Michael Corcoran from Texas Highways.
50 years ago. It's an anniversary that's worth celebrating to me, because remnants of that scene were still there when I first went to Austin in the summer of 1996, and after a day of drinking "Mexican Martinis" on a patio overlooking Town Lake (which is actually the Colorado River) and eating the best green bean casserole I'd ever had in my life (at Threadgill's North) and then seeing Don Walser at a bar on 6th street, I knew I'd found my spiritual home.
Spurred by an ugly breakup and betrayal, I moved to Austin in October 1996, and for more than four years, I let the music of that amazing town heal my soul.
I got to Austin a year too late to see Buck Owens stopping by a celebration of his birthday at the Continental Club in 1995, one of my favorite music venues ever, and I was frequently told about other shows I'd missed just a year or so before. But I did experience Ted Roddy's tribute to Elvis at that same venue. And went to three SXSW festivals before they became so crowded you couldn't show hop across town anymore. And heard so much fantastic live music EVERY week, sometimes every day. I have my own stories about brushes with famous people and legendary nights.
I heard people lament the way it USED to be, but when I lived there, I could always find a concert to go to if I wanted to any night of the week - and by concert, I mean someone I liked to listen to playing in a bar for maybe just four other people.
But I also knew the music scene was dying even while I lived there. I knew that music mecca wouldn't last forever, but I was astounded at how quickly it shrunk after I left in January 2001 to work abroad. Music venue after music venue got torn down. Funky bars and restaurants disappeared. Traffic became a nightmare. Tech hipsters replaced that wonderful mix of cowboys and hippies and former punk rockers, and their upscale apartments replaced oh-so-many dives.
When I returned after 8 years abroad to get my things out of storage, Austin was unrecognizable and soulless. The vast majority of my friends I'd known there had moved elsewhere. I worked there briefly in 2017 and 2019, and each time, I hoped I would find some piece of what I used to love so much, one that wasn't doomed. I didn't. I went to the Broken Spoke one last time, for my birthday in 2019, and knew I'd probably never be there again.
I know all things end. But I sure wish I could find an Austin-like place again, one where everyone seemed to be in a band after work, one where every dive restaurant had fantastic food, one where everyone felt welcomed at any club or venue, one where you always got chips and salsa before your meal.
But that said, I carry that Austin I knew in my heart and in my soul. And I'm so grateful for what started there 50 years ago - the music and memories still give me comfort and joy.
