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January: It sounds funny to say that the first great show of the year was a funeral but it was. When Rev. Elmo Franklin, Jr. died, not only did his Eastside friends and family turn out in huge crowds for the former member of the Mighty Clouds of Joy, but fellow Cloud Joe Ligon and singer Willie Neal Johnson took to the aisles for the most glorious, spiritual send-off a human being could ask for. Neither Quentin Tarantino's appearance here for the From Dusk Till Dawn premiere, AC/DC's killer show at the Erwin Center, nor Charlie Sexton being dropped by MCA could eclipse it.February: The second great show of the year happened when Garbage came to Liberty Lunch, playing one of those on-the-brink-of-greatness gigs. Meanwhile, local indie Sector 2 went under, sending acts like El Flaco, Peglegasus, Dash Rip Rock, the Beat Farmers, and Mumbleskinny scrambling for new deals. Also, Mark Farner died. That would be Butthole Surfer Paul Leary's dog, not the supremely dumb guitarist for Grand Funk.
March: The month that inspired Austin to call itself the "Live Music Capital of the World" got off with a bang by having street singer Gerry Van King, "The King of Sixth Street," busted. The Austin Music Awards show was laid siege to by Lou Reed, who played the Austin Music Hall that same night -- a night when most local venues have traditionally kept dark so they too can celebrate. The Austin American-Statesman joined the fray by having Michael Corcoran trash the entire show; he left the Awards at 9:30pm to make deadline, though the show didn't end until midnight. MTV's Road Rules cast rolled into town, on assignment as reporters with KTBC/Fox to cover the Awards show. A local access crew thought it would be more fun to cover the RR cast covering the Awards show, but near-fisticuffs ensued at the auditorium when MTV objected. SXSW highlights included appearances from Joan Osborne, Liz Phair, Ruby, Fugees, Randy Newman, George Clinton, and Iggy Pop, but I had no fun. (The Music Awards will be at the Music Hall this year.)
April: I almost choked watching X-Files as a alien reference to "Roky Crickenson" was made. And if I say that listening to Oasis sing "Morning Glory" at the Music Hall was absolutely transcendent, you'll laugh and say I copied Corky. But I was standing right next to him (having kissed and made up over his Awards show slagging) and he was 200% right: That song was the perfect arc of passion, pop, and performance at exactly the right moment. I was in love with it. My heart was racing, stuck way up my throat. I'll never forget it.
May: It would be nice to say that the most memorable moments in May were at the Kerrville Folk Festival, where 25 years of music was celebrated. Instead, the ValuJet crash took the life of Walter Hyatt, and Austin's own godfather of punk, Joseph Gonzales, succumbed to ill health. To make matters sadder, former Fabulous Thunderbirds' bassist Preston Hubbard disappeared and was reportedly dead, an assertion that has since been disputed though no one has actually seen him.
June: By the time Electric Larryland came out, the Butthole Surfers were preparing an extensive tour. Unfortunately, their first show in Austin in several years -- at the Music Hall -- was a disaster. The album, however, was great, spawning a huge radio smash in "Pepper," quickly satirized on 101X as "Paprika." Antone's Records joined forces with Discovery and the Cowboy Junkies at the Paramount played one of the more perfect concerts I have ever witnessed.
July: Forget the KISS reunion in San Antonio, all that glitter and flash would be rightly seen for its shallowness by the time the Flashy Four came to Austin in November. What was hot in San Antonio were the Butthole Surfers, who used their disastrous June show as an example of what not to do. They learned well, delivering a stellar performance to a crowd more excited to see the Toadies. Did Phil Anselmo of Pantera OD? He says he did and then came back from the dead. Barrelhouse piano player Roosevelt "Grey Ghost" Williams, sadly enough, did not.
August: An R.I.P. might be appropriate for Ed Hall, who played their last show at Liberty Lunch, a great, thundering performance from a trio that deserved much more than they got. If it was good enough for Kiss, it was good enough for the Sex Pistols, who played Houston and Dallas on their reunion tour. Thank heaven, Quentin Tarantino was back in town, showing delightfully rotten films at the Dobie and carousing.
September: September should have been Back to Cool month as AM15 went round-the-clock, Eric Johnson released Venus Isle after a six-year wait, and the One World Music Fest proclaimed its line-up that included James Brown, Toots & the Maytals, Spearhead, and George Clinton & P-Funk. Falling way short of the anticipated throngs, no one complained about the quality of the music or the performers, just the huge debt left over, which Willie Nelson later helped re-coup with a benefit show. Sadly, another month meant another death, this one coming when Tom Churchill, bassist for Glitterpuss, Blort, and Snatch Lizard, was killed in a hit-and-run.
October: I don't get Beck and I didn't see his Music Hall show on the 1st but, like some strange car wreck, there's something so compelling that I can't turn away from him. Moreover, "Where It's At" got stuck in my head for so long, the little skink weaseled his way into my Top Ten. Go figure. One band I did get -- in a major way -- was Sixteen Deluxe, who got signed to Warner Bros. Meanwhile, Paul Sessums' second club, the Split Rail, closed -- one week after Tim Stegall's cover story on the vibrancy of live music on Red River.
November: The Butthole Surfers returned to Liberty Lunch (just as Dejadisc's Steve Wilkison was leaving for Nashville and the White Rabbit was being sold) for the kind of show they should have played in June but didn't. This was the Buttholes as you want them: mercilessly hypnotic, loud, crude, and as awesome as I'd ever seen them. In a year when I went out less than ever before, the concerts I saw were outstanding and memorable. And when the Buttholes finished the year by having hit the mainstream, I couldn't help wondering if Joseph Gonzales, who had helped launch the band by giving them his "hardcore Sundays" at Club Foot 15 years ago, was smiling somewhere. With that in mind, may blessings be visited upon up 'n' comers like The Phantom Creeps, Tallboy, Monroe Mustang, 10-inch Maria, Missile Command, and Choreboy.
December: It's December 31, 1996. Townes Van Zandt will die in a few hours, and he doesn't know it. Or maybe he does and he's made his peace with it, knowing that the cold blue light is not the morning sky but the end of the road. That he dies on the anniversary of Hank Williams death will not escape those who loved him; sometimes it seems like a blessing to leave this earth prematurely. But Van Zandt, like Walter Hyatt, Grey Ghost, Junior Franklin, and the others who passed on, left that most precious of gifts -- a bit of his gentle self for eternity. Out of kindness, I suppose.