From Esquire, January, 1993
Lost in the funhouse: toke the bong slowly; life in Austin, Texas
by Michael Hirschorn
The lead singer of Course of Empire is howling, "Therearetoomanyofus,
therearetoomanyofus," as a sweaty, roiling mass of kids jostle and mosh in
the overheated darkness. In terms of cultural dislocation, it doesn't get
any more jumbled than here - this postpunk band is opening for the
militant rap group Public Enemy, but the location doesn't compute.
We're in a club on a commercial strip in suburban Austin, Texas, the
audience composed of nearly equal parts rat-tailed, fade-coiffed mall
trash (rasty jeans cut off below the knee, slashed T-shirts, and army
boots) and prepped-out University of Texas frat boys (rasty jeans cut
off below the knee, slashed T-shirts, and Reeboks), the crowd 90 percent
white, but a couple of them yelling, "Fuck tha police" at some nonplussed
cops who are probably their dads. A local says progressive Austin is as
segregated as anywhere else, but thanks to hours spent homestylin' in
front of MTV, the kids are just ace at their South Bronx swagger ("Yo, UT
homeboyz in the house! Boyeeeeeee!").
[the rest of the article is about Richard Linklater and Austin]
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