Born in the '90s: Emo's and Electric Lounge

Adventurous venues "gave this town a place to grow."

There used to be only one general type of live music venue in Austin. But then, in ‘92 and ‘93 came two clubs that wouldn’t think of booking Joe Ely or Soulhat or Miss Lou Ann.

EMO’S

It’s 1992 and the alternative rock world of hardened white kids is looking for a place to show off their tattoos and listen to loud music. They didn’t have much reason to go to Red River Street if they were under 21, until Eric “Emo” Hartman opened up a new world in a building that was an auto repair shop- Raven’s Garage- for five decades.

To a generation of Austin clubgoers now in their 40s and 50s, Emo’s was their Armadillo World Headquarters. No nachos, but there also wasn’t a cover charge, except $2 for minors, in the early years.

The club rush-opened with a catering license for SXSW 1992, then made it official in May. Before Emo’s the only rock at Sixth and Red River cost about $20 a pebble. If you were walking down Sixth Street and you saw the Red River street sign it was time to head back.

There was stuff happening on Red River before Emo’s. There was the Chances lesbian bar that booked rock acts and eventually became Club DeVille. The notorious Cavity Club had a half-pipe for skatepunks and was otherwise barren to the point that even G.G. Allin couldn’t fuck it up. Brad First introduced industrial rock to Austin at the Cave Club with Skinny Puppy and Ministry, and hosted some of the most legendary Butthole Surfers shows, but it lasted only two years- 1986-1988. The Cave was where Elysium is now. Before that it was the Atomic Café, Paul Sessums’ Split Rail, the Sanitarium, Kilimanjaro, Hip-Hop City, I’m forgetting one or two.

But mostly, Red River was dominated by junk shops like Snooper’s Paradise, Fairyland Antiques and William’s Do-Rite Shop before Emo’s and SXSW made it an internationally-known nightlife destination. Opened as a single room that was usually too crowded, Emo’s doglegged the next year into the former Texas Money location, with a capacity of 1,100 and the coolest patio in town.

When Hartman and his manager David Thomson (who came from the original Emo’s in Houston) entered 603 Red River for the first time, the walls held stuffed animal heads and wagon wheels, décor left over from when the club was C&W with Raven’s. (They took their live rattlesnake with them.) When Emo’s hired Don Walser to its first and only residency,

Cash, Beck, Emo’s March 1994.

it wasn’t an homage to the building’s past, but to fill a void. Henry’s on Burnet Road had been attracting punks and rockers to see Walser, Junior Brown, Jimmy Day and other country acts, but it was bulldozed in 1993 to make way for an AutoZone.

Then there was the time Johnny Cash turned Emo’s into a country music palace during SXSW ’94. “There was a knock on the back door that afternoon,” said Thomson, “and when I asked who it was, he said ‘John Cash.’” Thomson opened the door and there was The Man In Black. “I’ll be working for you tonight, so I was wondering if I could come inside and see the place.” Thomson said it was the only time he was embarrassed by how Emo’s looked. Cash (followed by Beck) gave the club a legendary lift and one helluva souvenir. Hanging over the bar was a stool on which was written “Johnny Cash sat here.”

Bookings got easier, better, with a young local kid named Graham Williams sharpening the cutting edge for some great shows by bands you’d never heard of before. Still, regulars were outraged when a cover charge of $1 for over 21 was implemented. “Freemo’s” was no more.

First impressions weren’t always good with the bands. “I can’t believe we’re playing this shithole!” Thomson overheard Robin Zander of Cheap Trick say on arrival circa ‘95. But neither could the 1,100 delirious fans who demanded encore after encore by the classic rockers.

“Emo’s was the home away from home for misfits,” said Thomson. “I think we brought a whole different crowd to Sixth Street.” The high school cool kids were jamming to Little Sister at the Black Cat, but the dropouts lived at Sixth and Red River.

Emo’s closed in Dec. 2011 and opened a bigger, cleaner version of the rock box at the former location of the Back Room on Riverside. It sucked. The energy was all at Sixth and Red. Owner Frank Hendrix, who bought the club from Hartman in 2000, sold Emo’s East, as it had been called, to C3 Presents in Feb. 2013. They tore it down and put up a new building called Emo’s that is now part of the Live Nation empire.

ELECTRIC LOUNGE

Opened by architect Jay Hughey and filmmaker Mark Shuman, and managed by poet Mike Henry, the Electric Lounge was the closest Austin had to a New York City nightclub in the ‘90s. The place aimed for boldness and diversity, as the two most popular residencies early on were Hamell On Trial, a one-man punk band with an acoustic guitar, and Asylum Street Spankers, the old-timey show band with a twist. The industrial-looking building had a fantastic interior design, with a partition of see-through plexiglass allowing you to hang at the quieter bar side, while keeping tabs on the live room action. The Damnations were bartenders and that band, plus Spoon, Fastball, the Gourds and Sixteen Deluxe made the Electric Lounge their home. “It’ll never be considered as important an incubator as the Armadillo or Antone’s,” said Kevin Russell of the Gourds. “But, for its time it was a crucial venue that gave this town a place to grow.” The Gourds’ notorious cover of “Gin and Juice” was first played as an impromptu encore at the EL, which opened in 1993 and closed in 1999.

Pork

The club’s trademark “Electric” neon sign lit up the stage, which annoyed L.A. band the Muffs. After being told the sign always stays on, the bassist speared it, and had to pay to have it fixed. Such other touring acts as Neutral Milk Hotel, String Cheese Incident, Spiritualized, Supergrass, Sleater-Kinney and Lucinda Williams, who played five nights in a row while woodshedding Car Wheels, seemed to have no problem with the neon.

A couple cool things about the club: you could always find parking, though during SXSW one year someone parked too close to the railroad track and got their car smashed. The other thing was that you could walk down the hill to the Cedar Door if there was an opening act you hated or if you just saw someone you didn’t want to see. You made sure you wore all-terrain shoes when you went to the Lounge.

Jeff Buckley at the Electric Lounge

When you saw a great show at the EL, you couldn’t imagine it happening so well anywhere else. On a good night, holy shit! The best I saw there was ? and the Mysterians, the day before SXSW in ’97 or ’98. Butch Hancock and the Health and Happiness Show was also great, though I’d slipped myself a rohypnol and heard most of the show with my forehead on the table.

The place was big enough, I’m guessing 450-capacity, to really rave. But seeing someone like John Cale or Jeff Buckley in such a small space also made you tingle at the intimacy.

With a Soho vibe in an Arc Angels town, the Electric Lounge was just too cool to make it financially. I went there as often as I could because I knew it wouldn’t last. The final hurdle was too high, as newly elected State Comptroller Carole Keeton Rylander upped sales tax deposits for most nightclubs. For Electric Lounge it was $10,000 more. This was a club that struggled to pay the electricity bill. A month after SXSW99, it closed.

It’s always sad when a beloved club dies, but Emo’s gave Austin 19 great years, and the Electric Lounge six. That’s a long time to have a love connection. A long time to learn about new ways for words and music to go.