Daily Loaf

Routes Music is a documentary film acting as a roving music census, taking in the true musical passions (and disgusts) of the American people. We’re traveling all across the country, stopping along the way to interview local bands, take footage of live performances and chat with anyone and everyone. Learn more about the documentary here; check out all previous entries here.

The first thing we noticed on Austin’s infamous Sixth Street was the preponderance of clubs. Not the live music that Austin is known for, but booming bass beckoning babes in short skirts (and the dudes chasing them). Roads blocked off … police bored and leering … drunk college kids swaying from one sidewalk to another … a street musician, here or there, drowned out by the latest pop hits.

To find some music that wasn’t prerecorded, the Routes Music crew had to drive across town to locally-owned and operated Violins Etc., a full service string shop.

Inside, we were greeted by hundreds of violins – some brand new and ready for sale, others in various states of disrepair – as well as the employees who fixed them.
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Routes Music is a documentary film acting as a roving music census, taking in the true musical passions (and disgusts) of the American people. We’re traveling all across the country, stopping along the way to interview local bands, take footage of live performances and chat with anyone and everyone. Learn more about the documentary here; check out all previous entries here.

It’s 8 p.m. and Phil is driving through a torrential rainstorm in an abandoned part of New Orleans’ West End. He’s running his hand through his hair, bent over the steering wheel, trying to find Magellan Road. The GPS isn’t working and every street seems to lead back to the interstate we just exited. A tiny brown Chihuahua looks lost, too, as it darts across the road and between two houses.

It’s enough rain to make a New Orleans native nervous.

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An unexpected but enthralling update from Phil Bardi of Routes Music:

Austin is a city with a long tradition of many things, from mass murders to good music. So, it’s no surprise that many claim the state capital of Texas is haunted.

On Saturday, while coming down Brazos Drive in downtown Austin, I snapped some photos of Driskill Hotel.

While looking through my pictures tonight, I came upon these two similar photos:

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Stryker Vawn, the XXX fetish tag-team from Austin, Texas, will perform for an intimate crowd at the VIP Dungeon Show, Saturday Sept. 26. The leather clad Stryker and perpetually topless Vawn, took a break from whipping and prodding each other on stage to bare it all to CL.

-How would you describe a Stryker Vawn performance?

2 parts burlesque, finely chopped

1 part Vaudeville, peeled and pressed

6 parts perversion, stewed in sex butter

3 parts fantasy, drizzled with honey

1 part fury, ground coarsely

Mix contents vigorously in your mind until creamy thick.

-Do relatives know about your alter egos?

YES. When we first started, there was always a family member in the audience. They think we are weird but accept us for doing what we enjoy.

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“Dude, she pissed my bed. Twice!”

These were the first words I heard this morning. Travis, my oldest friend, was calling me in a rage after dropping off the bedwetter at her dad’s place. It seems with each year I return to Austin for Christmas, such calls have become more frequent. It’s hard to say exactly what changed. Our sexual escapades used to start out so innocent—“Dude, that smoking hot girl at the bar just brushed her ass against me. She totally wants me.” Now, the tales of our sexual adventures usually begin something like the story of Travis’s bedwetter: “When I first met her, I thought she was a prostitute…”

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