Austin Music Sucks

This infamous and inflammatory music column by Michael Corcoran ran in the April 25, 1986, issue of the Chronicle. It is being republished as part of the paper’s 40th Anniversary issue, which contains an excerpt of it as a Mad Lib.

Musicians. What a bunch of crybabies. It’s my fault nobody shows up at their gigs. How dare I favor an inferior band to theirs! Who do I think I am? I must be stupid if I can’t recognize their greatness. All they do is play goddamn music. In junior high, kids would be called sissies and beat up for such an activity. Nowadays we worship our instrument-players. And it really takes the carpool lane to their heads. Ever have a pretty good friend and then they joined a band? After that they’ve only got one topic of conversation, and it’s not world hunger. They’ve all got Marshall egos, turned up to 10. And I’m not just talking about the Vaughans, Elys, Nelsons, or Carrascos; this bug is citywide. I recently sponsored a talent show of 21 new bands at the Continental, and some of them were pulling shit you’d expect from premenstrual Streisand. And every damn one of them thought they should have won. Everybody likes what they hold in their own stool cup, but musicians act like they just walked out of I-Can’t-Believe-It’s-Yogurt with theirs.

Don’t you start me talking about those goddamn ingrates! Their voting me as Worst Thing to Happen to Austin Music is calling Mother Theresa a child molester. After all I’ve done for Austin. Then the Beach holds its “Not Cool Enough for the Chronicle” Awards and I win “Most Hated Critic.” The trophy was a toilet seat on which was written “Dump Corky.” That’s it! No more Not a Bad Guy Once You Get to Know Him!

I’ll mention my girlfriend as much as I damn well feel like. Nobody’s stopping you from going out and getting your own column and writing about your 19-year-old girlfriend. Or, if you don’t have a 19-year-old girlfriend (tsk, tsk), you can write about your own band, the Vertibeads. What do I care? I get paid the same. And I’ve got this job locked up. It’s mine as long as I want it. I can plug my friends if I want. But they all live out of town so it won’t do them any good. I can put girls’ names in bold print so they’ll like me. Lisa Gamache. See? This is my column and they’ll take it from me when they pry it from cold, dead hands.

Corky Names Names

Let’s get it all out in the open. Let’s let it fly. Daniel Johnston: It’s just a cruel joke we’ve played on you. We really don’t think you’re brilliant, we think you’re a squirrel. How did you like my Kim Fowley impression? … Will Sexton: Need a title for your upcoming LP for MCA? How about Magic Coattail Ride? When the press starts interviewing you, don’t forget to tell them about the book which inspired you most, the Jerry Van Dyke autobiography … Still Will: Why did you make cutthroat motions when I started telling Alex about seeing you and two guys in suits and Allan Cox, the under-30 bassist, out to lunch together? … How to Kiss: As your music progresses so should your name. Maybe on the sixth or seventh date you should call yourselves Forms of Contraception … Miles and Lucinda: C’mon, we won’t think any less of you. Drop the phony accents … Stevie Ray Vaughan: I think you need to change haircutters. The place you go to now is not so great. You should’ve been tipped off when you saw that all the barbers wear black hoods with holes cut for eyes … LeRoi Brothers: How does it feel when you make No. 8 on the Scandinavian charts and then see that Omar and the Howlers are No. 4? Hollow? I thought so … Lou Ann Barton: Don’t feel bad just because one person calls your new record “wimpy.” And what does Richard Carpenter know? … Jon Dee Graham: After listening to your guitar solo on Glass Eye’s “I Don’t Need Drugs,” I’m puzzled as to why you played the guitar behind the back in a studio where no one could see you … The Hardcore Scene: Hello. Hell-oh-oh. Anybody home? You know the punk scene is really radical when the main local punk record label backs down against the Tolkien estate …

Corky Means It, Man

Zeitgeist: Refresh my memory. Aren’t you the band with Jennifer Cook? No wait, I remember now. You used to pay the clubs, right, wearing straw hats and Mardi Gras beads? I haven’t seen you folks in a long time. Kinda hard getting gigs these days, huh? Stick with it. This is just a tough town to make it in. Listen, I could probably get you a gig opening for the Cavemen. It doesn’t pay, but the exposure is good … Asleep at the Wheel: Hang in there. This urban country thing’s about to get big all over again. I say it’s gonna happen right after the Christopher Cross revival peaks … Hickoids: Your drum problems have been solved by the invention of a drum machine that gets drunk and messes up … Butthole Surfers: Malcolm McLaren’s been trying to get a hold of you. He wants you to star in his sequel to The Great Rock ‘n’ Roll Swindle. He says all you gotta do is play yourselves … Dino Lee: I found a daily schedule sheet that looks like it belongs to you. It reads: 7-8am: Bullshit girlfriend on why-I’m-home-so-late. 8am-2pm: Sleep. 2-5pm: Fix hair. 5-5:30pm: Show hair to girlfriend. 5:30-7:30pm: Redo hair. 7-7:03pm: Work on new material. 7:03-10pm: Make sure hair is OK after working on new material. 10pm-1am: Listen to all Dino Lee records while reading clippings. 1-2am: Visit as many nightclubs as possible looking for girls whose self-respect account is overdrawn. 2-7am: Research upcoming “Lolita” theme show …

[Original Ed. note: Due to the unusual nature of Corcoran’s column in this issue, there was considerable doubt around the office as to whether it should be run at all. One staffer even suggested that publishing it might place Corky in imminent danger of serious bodily harm. It was at that point that we decided to run it.]

Austin Music Sucks

This article appears in 40th Anniversary.