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Sugar Buffalo at The East Avenue Lounge

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I’m Going to Die

Upon arriving at the East Avenue Lounge I immediately thought to myself, “I’m going to die here…” The Texan sun setting behind the bar turned it into the Texas Chainsaw Mansion. I half-expected a crazed, skin-clad behemoth to run out of the house, chainsaw roaring, looking for a new set of skin to fashion his next mask.

eastavelounge

Next to the highway, the constant roar of traffic slipped across the plains. An old picket fence surrounds the front “yard.” The fence may have been white at some point, but now the paint is well past peeling, and only tiny flecks remain on the decrepit wood. The “yard” itself is no yard at all, at least not the type of yard I’ve ever seen. When I think of a yard, I picture a lot of different things, but all of them are at least green. This was not. There were no trees or plants, not even a patch of grass. It was all gravel and dirt, and even the dirt was a gray color instead of the rich brown of my Chicago home.

Latino music blares from the speakers on the spacious front porch while people at tables gulp down buckets of beer. The “stage” is really just pieces of plywood stacked at the edge of the yard, sitting on cinder blocks. A mismatched group of chairs and tables are strewn in front of the stage with apparently no order attached to their layout.

The interior of the house is as foreboding as the outside. Upon walking in one can see the stairs leading up to the second floor, the bottom most stairs conspicuously absent so that there is no real way to get up to the second floor. The bar is to the left when you walk in. It is reminiscent of every college house party.  I feel for the bartender. If you read this sir, I was once like you; one man sitting behind a poorly built bar sneaking beers and shots until I was finally let loose upon the night.

A few more tables sit around what once was obviously a living room, and at the end there are doors to two foul bathrooms. The only redeeming quality to the house is the back room where a billiards table  propels the building into the twenty-first century.

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Yup, this could easily be the summer home for the Sawyer or Firefly family. The second floor is closed off and no one is allowed up, people believe it’s haunted. I cant help but think that nobody is allowed up there because either the floor is condemned and wont support a person’s weight, or because Leatherface himself is hiding up there, waiting for his next victim. Neither would shock me.

I do the only thing I can think of that makes sense while waiting for the show to start; I grab a beer. If I was going to be killed and have my skin used as a mask, there was no reason I should be completely sober for it. I wondered if the bands that were meant to play the night I was there felt similarly.  Were they playing for their lives?

Sugar With a Chance of Rain

Credit: Alejandro Diaz Jr., Artistic Directions

Credit: Alejandro Diaz Jr., Artistic Directions

The one thing that could ruin “Sugar Buffalo’s” debut show was commencing. Turns out, nothing will end an outdoor show like an immense downpour of biblical proportions. Instead of being able to take to the stage and truly let loose, the band hurriedly started getting all the instruments, speakers, monitors, and other gear inside.

That would usually end the show: people would grab their things, get to their cars, and simply go somewhere dry and warm; they would go home. This time, however, no one left. Not one, single person.

Not only did nobody leave, but also some people  sat in that yard, in that torrential downpour and waited to see Sugar Buffalo take to the stage. Unfortunately, it quickly became clear that this would not be possible. The rain was relentless. The weather simply refused to abate. It was as if Boreas, Greek god of the northern wind, bringer of storms himself had come to Austin to stop Sugar Buffalo’s performance. So what was the headliner to do at their debut show? How was this group of four young men going to give the people, especially those sitting in the rain, what they came here to see?

Sugar Buffalo Takes the Stage

Talking with the owners of the establishment, they quickly cleared out the area directly inside the front door of the slasher movie’s home. Everyone gathered into the “living room” of the small building and watched as the lights came on and the band picked up their instruments. Matt Livensparger walked into view to introduce the band and thank everyone for coming.  Matt is a mutt bred from the classic rock breeds of Steven Tyler and Robert Plant. Long hair flowing, shirt unbuttoned, bell bottomed jeans clad; Livensparger held his microphone like an old lover and unleashed the first note with a bombardment of lyrics that stunned the audience. As Livensparger’s voice strutted around the room, one felt like they were listening to the old rock icons of the past.

Bassist, Kyle, checked the track’s pulse: the deep notes igniting  life itself; the heartbeat of the band resonating in the audience. Few knew that he had sliced his finger wide open the day before and was now playing sans digit.

Terrell, the guitarist, had discarded his shirt in the rain and was now moving around the impromptu stage with a contagious enthusiasm. Chase, junior member and drummer, made every note count. Every time a drumstick struck the head of a drum, the sound ignited a new synapse in the crowd. Observing his drumming was enough to make you shiver.

The audience simply took all this in, stunned that the night turned out the way it did. After having the vigor drained out of them by the previous band, and I use the term loosely, and then having the heavens themselves try and cancel the show, a group of men determined, determined to prove themselves, determined to give those watching a good time, determined to rock takes the stage. Sugar Buffalo moved seamlessly from originals to rock covers and back. Still, no one left.

Bigger than Cigarettes

Credit: Alejandro Diaz Jr., Artistic Directions

Credit: Alejandro Diaz Jr., Artistic Directions

It was somewhere by this time that I realized what truly made Sugar Buffalo so addicting. Here is a band that specializes in rock and roll; taking us back to a time before all the fractured versions of today: pop-rock, punk-rock, alternative-rock, etc. They feel no need to spread their sound across another genre. They are rock and roll, loud, in-your-face, energized, and pure. The talent of the band (two of its members have literally spent over 1500 hours honing their skills combined) is staggering, but what makes them truly a sight to be seen is the energy and passion they emit on stage. Every note, every lyric, every riff is filled with a barely contained excitement as these men take stage to do the only thing in the world that makes sense to them, rock and roll.

They walk off triumphant, rulers of the night. Leatherface may have come and tried to stop them from what they were doing, kill them before they even got a chance to be on the screen, but they did not give up. Sugar Buffalo may as well have been the name of the only survivor of that  classic horror flick. While the crazed house, the murderous family, and even the unforgiving Texan weather had tried to end their story before it really had a chance to begin, they felt otherwise. They endured a horrific scene in the decrepit house. They watched as others fell before them. They outwitted the gruesome killer, but more importantly, they rocked.

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