You ain’t gonna read this. Hell, who can blame ya? The world is burning… Plus, you probably get a hundred of these oh-please-please-listen-to-my-band type of letters. So don’t, whatever. I’m not gonna sit here and describe the music to you as if that matters at all. To really know what music sounds like, you just gotta fuckin’ listen to it.
Instead, here’s what I’m gonna do for you. I’m gonna tell ya where this music comes from, how it’s made, and maybe a little teaser about the souls who make it. Deep within a network of bungalows in South Austin, under acid soaked moonlight, afternoon-sun-tinted backyards by the creeks, and within the rotting wood of soulful houses built far before we were, we create these vibrations of air. This is where this music is made. The Genuine Central Texas Article.
I, Sean PAtrick HaRKins, (SPaHrk), make this music with my friends; my band(s); my family. We toil in the greenbelts of obscurity on the edge of the scene. Yes, that proverbial Austin history that’s been whored out by the great storytellers of yesterday; it is here, in this tradition, that we still toil. It is here that we still create new Millennium noises that somehow can’t not sound like Austin. Our tools and our toys are sometimes the same, oftentimes different, but our attitudes are aligned with our cosmic, cowboy-hippy brethren that made Austin home so many decades ago.
I still work and play in the secret shacks that only the coolest frequent. Infamous house parties, BYOB trailers full of tunes and speakers too large for the space, and cafes that always keep the amps warm; this is where you’ll find this music. This is where you’ll find me. This is where you’ll find my music. Maybe I’m too experimental; maybe I refuse to make just one genre (even though they say that’s bad for my brand, and bad for my “career”). I say screw it. Listen or don’t. But why pass on something so new just because it’s hard to define?
Give a few bytes a try. You might like how it tastes.