Welcome (Again) to Mediocre, TX

Facebook reminds me that it's been 12 years since I dropped a blog bomb on Austin

I was sitting in my broken down trailer at Pecan Grove on a Thursday evening in April 2012 when I said “Fuck it!” and posted a scathingly funny (I hoped) diatribe about the place I’d called home for almost 30 years. Having taken an early retirement from the Statesman the previous June, my only regular freelance gig was with Austin’s CultureMap, an entry level online site, so I was bitter. I mean, I thought Texas Monthly would be a given, but there was no interest. Oh, yeah, I remembered, my old feud with the publisher. All those good-natured jibes I’d put out there over the years had come back to bite me in the ass.
Well, I’ll show you “mean-spirited!” Nothing I ever wrote came out as easily as “Welcome to Mediocre, Texas,” but that was because I’d pitched it to the Statesman for about a year before I left, and I had notes. The idea was that each features/arts writer would choose something/someone from their beat who was overrated, for a gentle, 150-word takedown. Avoid the easy, touristy subjects like Chuy’s, and go after fucking Vespaio! The other writers looked at me like I was crazy, so I told them that the set-up would be a celebration of being in the middle, playing up the consistency that comes with mediocrity. That was too subtle, they said, “the readers would kill us.” Turns out they were right, but they were also wrong. The morning after my half-drunk Facebook post, I woke up to hundreds of likes and comments and shares. It was more response to anything I’d ever written, including “Austin Music Sucks” in the Austin Chronicle in 1986, which didn’t have the immediacy of the internet. I’d hit a nerve, and people either loved it or hated it, with younger immigrants to Austin especially despising the depiction of their promised land. A writer for the Austinist (CultureMap with attitude!), delivered an evisceration of me that was personal, intense and, even worse, funny. (Whatever happened to Terry Sawyer?) My big fear was that I’d die in my sleep and some bearded PBR-swillers in Grizzly Bear t-shirts would say ‘Well, there was nothing mediocre about that heart attack,’ yuk yuk, clink clink. I’m still alive because I couldn’t let those fuckers win. Well, that and surgery.
Here’s the column, somewhat dated in some places, still valid in others, as it read on michaelcorcoran.net in April 2012:

In the late ‘70s, the Fabulous Thunderbirds’ Monday nights at the Rome Inn was the hottest gig in town. Wha ‘appened? Photo Kathy Cabble.

Only the mediocre are always at their best,” someone said, which could be why Austin is so damn proud of itself.

Welcome to Mediocre, Texas, the home of the Texas Longhorns, Harry Knowles, the bats, “Fabulous” Thunderbirds,  KGSR, the weekly 10K fun run and street closer, and bands playing at the restaurant when you just want to fucking eat in peace.

But what about the world class music scene?  Brooklyn Vegan loves us, but in nearly 50 years as a hotbed, Austin has not produced a single Rock and Roll Hall of Fame nominee (note: this was before Kathy Valentine got in as a member of the Go-Gos). Timbuk3 ain’t gonna make it, folks. Rock stars aren’t launched here, they go to Austin to retire, work the steps, and wait for their Margaret Moser profile.

This used to be a town that worshipped guitar players, but forget learning at the feet of blues masters. If you want big ups in the ATX these days you want to get with Bobby Flay, not Buddy Guy. Tyson Cole and Paul Qui are the new Vaughan brothers, and folks on the Eastside are lining up for Aaron Franklin’s smoked brisket the way they once did Aaron “T-Bone” Walker’s smokin’ riffs.

It’s true the food scene has improved immensely from the years when the four culinary options were Tex-Mex, BBQ, Thundercloud, Other. But it’s a little lame to live in a city where there are more groupies lurking around kitchens than backstage. Mouth-watering is the new jaw-dropping.

Austin is touted as a movie town, but unless we want to count UT grad Wes Anderson, we haven’t exactly been churning out the great flicks. Tree of Life, what was that? Director Terrence Malick doesn’t like to have his picture taken, but he’ll let us watch him masturbate for three hours.

There are two cities in the U.S. that truly matter: New York and L.A. Everywhere else is bullshit. Austin is cool and fun and artistic and- most importantly, easy– but that doesn’t mean this is a great city. The things that make a town a city- rapid transit, a great art museum, Chinatown, pro sports- Austin is without. We’ve got L.A.’s traffic, but no one who can greenlight a project bigger than a Chili’s commercial.

It’s so unchallenging here that “living dangerously” means going to the HEB on E. 7th instead of Hancock Center.

The only Austinites who have the right to feel smug are those who made their money in California and came here to raise kids and dodge earthquakes. Everyone else should shut their Mighty Cone-holes. Don’t blow your own horn after you’ve been blowing your nose all morning due to cedar fever.

To paraphrase the blue-eyed singer of “New York, New York,”  if you can make it there, you can make it anywhere, and if you can’t there’s always Austin. We got chicken shit bingo, too!

This is a burg populated by those unsatisfied by their hometowns- and Seattle didn’t work out either. Some came from Houston and Dallas to attend the University of Texas, or from Lubbock to tend to the women, and never left. Or they came during SXSW and realized, dude, this is much cooler than St. Louis. Dreams and reality share an apartment off Stassney Lane.

We’re not here to knock mediocrity, but embrace it. It’s something to strive for… Capital Metro. This college and legislative town was built on being just good enough to advance. Mediocrity means that you know exactly how your day is going to go, so the only messy surprise might be that migas don’t travel. A movie about the Austin mindset was called Slacker because Lazy and Full of Shit was too hard to market.

The most notable book about this town was called The Gay Place (1961). Billy Lee Brammer had no idea how right he’d be in 2012. Meanwhile, the limits of Austin as a city are right there in the name of its famous TV show. Nothing that happens here seems to have an impact elsewhere.

Let’s lose that “Live Music Capital of the World” slogan like an itchy scarf. Most live music is unlistenable- or, at best, unremarkable- and yet we still have all these entitled musicians who want affordable housing and other benefits. Stop feeding the pigeons and, you know what, Lockhart has a pigeon problem. Not against musicians- the talented ones truly enhance the quality of life. But you never hear them complaining.

Obviously, if you’ve read this far, I’m not exactly Joan Didion. You want to know who ‘nated in my cornflakes? My own mediocrity did.

But it’s cool. Pressure’s off. I’m just going to live an Austin life like I should’ve been doing all those years I tried to set the world on fire. I think I’ve got a new slogan we can all say proudly, and without refute:

Photo by Jay Janner Austin American-Statesman.

Heard in Mediocre, Texas

“It’s boring as shit, but the kids love it. And it’s free.”

“Top five Richard Linklater films? Just five? Wow, that’s a tough one.”

“Is it true this used to be a black neighborhood?”

“We’ve got Andy Langer to emcee!”

“The place is small, without any charm, but what do you want for $1500 a month? And we can walk to Torchy’s.”

“I’ll go with you to Merle Haggard, but only if Dale Watson is opening.”

“We don’t need to know the lineup to pay $200 for three-day passes. It’s gonna be awesome.”

“Why move to Brooklyn when Brooklyn’s coming to the Eastside?”

“Lambert’s used to be called Liberty Lunch.”

“This is going to be a totally unique, one-of-a-kind club. Michael Hsu is the architect and Joel Mozersky is the interior designer. Hit up Giant Noise for more deets.”

“Allright, I’m moving to Austin. Who wants to come with?”

READ MORE: Mediocre, Texas goes out to the ol’ ball g-a-m-e.