Albatros Jones
Albatros was born and raised in Austin, TX. After traveling the world and living all over, he has developed quite the eclectic taste for music. He lives for music, and enjoys a wide range of genre'. Along with being a writer, he is a musician as well. With a background in music, being a drummer and growing up in Austin, who better to get your music articles from? East Side Speakeasy
http://www.crunkbox.com/articles/articles/105/1/East-Side-Speakeasy/Page1.html
By Albatros Jones
Published on 03/5/2008
TC's Lounge on the east side is a cool blues bar where you can kick back and let your stress slip away.
Speak Easy...
Ever since I was old enough [well, looked old enough] to get into bars, I have been down with the dives. Even when I go to places like South Beach, I need a cabbie that can take me miles out of the way just to get me some local indie music lovin'. Dives attract that special crowd; you know the one: a little taste of everything. The local scene of an area is always a unique atmosphere, conducive to the underground. They don't call it a dive for nothin'. Monday night, I had the chance to dive down into the Austin underground: Let me tell you about the East Side's own TC's Lounge.
The place is pushed way back into an aging residential community, and even from the outside, with its uneven, half gravel - half asphalt parking lot you know this building has seen better days. In through the side door, and out through the front, the whole place is upside down, backwards and utterly underground. It's like stepping into an old-school speakeasy. The walls have been painted a few too many times; old rope lighting webbed across the four or five levels of ceiling is the only thing keeping this add-on after add-on of a shack from being completely dark. And the pieced together carpet, the plywood, and the concrete floors are all worn bare. This dive roars of a time that refuses to be forgotten.
In the back, I found Tom, or TC as he's better known, sitting on his barstool by the exit (front door proper) and we talked. He has owned the place for only the last 25 years, but it has been around much, much longer than that. From what he says and I can tell, he's done a helluva job keeping this place true to its roots. Within the hour, The Little Elmore Reed band, whose most appropriate motto is "Not Black, Not White, Just Blues," rocked the house with their west-coast-swing-slash-N'awlin's-roots-slash-Texas-soul blues. And the crowd grew thick.
From the urban hipster types to the suits, they drew the exact kind of dive-y eclectic mix I crave. Man, it's been a long time. Everyone started off just watching the Little Elmore Reed band, but after only a few songs we couldn't help it. With a hand signal, and the mic turned out, they had us singing right along with them, "Let the good times roll!" Before the end of the second set that makeshift six-by-six, at best, dance floor was packed and movin'. There is a lot to be said about a place that really makes you wanna shake it, whether you can shake it or not. Aside from my CrunkBox Cohort, Josh, I didn't know anyone there, but I will share this: Maybe it is because we are in Texas, maybe it is because of that chillaxed juke joint crowd, maybe even just that feel good funk emanating from the P.A. causes it. No, it has to be a sweet blend of all of the above. Monday nights at TC's everyone is friends. I don't mean cordial; I truly mean friends, hanging out together, enjoying some relaxation of the soul.
TC's in my new favorite spot for kicking back with a Shiner and grooving to the blues. You might just find me there every Monday night just funkin' jammin'.
The place is pushed way back into an aging residential community, and even from the outside, with its uneven, half gravel - half asphalt parking lot you know this building has seen better days. In through the side door, and out through the front, the whole place is upside down, backwards and utterly underground. It's like stepping into an old-school speakeasy. The walls have been painted a few too many times; old rope lighting webbed across the four or five levels of ceiling is the only thing keeping this add-on after add-on of a shack from being completely dark. And the pieced together carpet, the plywood, and the concrete floors are all worn bare. This dive roars of a time that refuses to be forgotten.
In the back, I found Tom, or TC as he's better known, sitting on his barstool by the exit (front door proper) and we talked. He has owned the place for only the last 25 years, but it has been around much, much longer than that. From what he says and I can tell, he's done a helluva job keeping this place true to its roots. Within the hour, The Little Elmore Reed band, whose most appropriate motto is "Not Black, Not White, Just Blues," rocked the house with their west-coast-swing-slash-N'awlin's-roots-slash-Texas-soul blues. And the crowd grew thick.
From the urban hipster types to the suits, they drew the exact kind of dive-y eclectic mix I crave. Man, it's been a long time. Everyone started off just watching the Little Elmore Reed band, but after only a few songs we couldn't help it. With a hand signal, and the mic turned out, they had us singing right along with them, "Let the good times roll!" Before the end of the second set that makeshift six-by-six, at best, dance floor was packed and movin'. There is a lot to be said about a place that really makes you wanna shake it, whether you can shake it or not. Aside from my CrunkBox Cohort, Josh, I didn't know anyone there, but I will share this: Maybe it is because we are in Texas, maybe it is because of that chillaxed juke joint crowd, maybe even just that feel good funk emanating from the P.A. causes it. No, it has to be a sweet blend of all of the above. Monday nights at TC's everyone is friends. I don't mean cordial; I truly mean friends, hanging out together, enjoying some relaxation of the soul.
TC's in my new favorite spot for kicking back with a Shiner and grooving to the blues. You might just find me there every Monday night just funkin' jammin'.