Allen Stone played the Empire Control Room & Garage on the 7th, and Ms. J Moffa, of Austin, TX, was excited to see him. “I discovered him in 2018 when he played with Andrew McMahon at Scoot Inn,” she says. His set blew her mind. “I nearly shit my pants when I saw he was coming on a solo tour.”
But the concert that kicked off her 2020 live music season didn’t go as she’d hoped. Instead of the smooth experience she normally has at a show, she ran into many issues. This was mainly due to a lack of communication on the venue’s part–and some rude out-of-towners.
It wasn’t until the night before the show, when Ms. Moffa looked at her tickets, that the issues began.
“Empire Control Room & Garage didn’t indicate what time doors were at. It just said, ‘8 p.m.’ and that was it.” She didn’t know if 8 p.m. was Doors or Show; it made a big difference on what time she needed to be downtown. If Doors were at 8, she could go home and change before fighting Friday rush-hour traffic on Mopac. If Show was at 8, she would need to head straight downtown from the office or risk not getting a good spot. She forgot her socks for her boots, so the decision was made and she went home first.
Worried that Show was at 8, she hurried as fast as she could through the throng of Austin traffic, and made it downtown in record time. “I managed to find a parking spot and got to the venue at about 5:45, which is crazy, since I went home first.” The Austin traffic problem, well known by every resident, has gotten gradually worse. There was a time where a driver could get anywhere in Austin in 15 minutes. Now it takes closer to 45. She made it in 30.
There was already a line of people when Ms. Moffa arrived at the venue. But that was okay. “There were only about forty people in front of me. At Stubb’s, that’s like, not even enough to fill the barrier.”
Ten minutes later, Ms. Moffa was informed she was standing in the wrong line. “This line is for the VIPs,” said the chick with the Allen Stone tote bags. “General Admission is over there.” She then pointed Ms. Moffa toward another line with four people in it.
It turned out that the VIPs got to go in at 6:30. “Doors,” Ms. Moffa said in dismay, “were at 8 or maybe 9, according to the girl in front of me, who’d asked the bouncer. 8 or 9! I could have gotten dinner first!”
The surprises continued.
“At about 7, I had to go use the bathroom. Of course, there’s nowhere to go on 7th , it’s all venues and homeless people, so I walked back up Red River to Stubb’s. I knew I’d be able to use the rest room there, and I could order some BBQ to go while I used the facilities.”
Returning back to the line with a brisket sandwich, she discovered the set times had been put up. “There were two openers,” she said, waving her hands, “NOWHERE on any email I received from the venue was there any indication there would be two openers. Allen wasn’t even due to go on until 10:45!”
At other venues, the openers are listed on the tickets, or in an email sent before the show. But this venue didn’t provide any of that information. And that particular night, Ms. Moffa was dead tired; she’d been hoping to make it home by 11:30 in order to have time to relax before going to bed. That was not going to happen with the headliner not going on until 10:45. While she had been expecting Samm Henshaw–the second opener, who was listed on her ticket–the added first opener was going to detract from her much-needed beauty sleep. She still doesn’t know the name of the first opener; she didn’t write it down, because she figured she would be able to find it on the internet. Even now, after the event, the first opener is listed nowhere.
“Then I found out that the show was going to be outside.” Empire Control Room has three stages—one inside, one outside, and one on the patio. There was no indication on her ticket which stage Allen Stone was appearing on. It wasn’t until after the event that she figured out that the word “Garage” on her ticket indicated it would be outside. If it had been inside, it would have said “Room.” Ms. Moffa claims that is too vague. “It would be better to say ‘indoors’ or ‘outdoors’ like they do at Stubb’s.”
The weather on Friday during the day was nice: upward of 70 degrees and sunny. “I grabbed a jean jacket just in case, but otherwise I just had my scarf and a t-shirt, because I didn’t want to carry them. Thank god I had the jacket.” The temperature soon dropped down into the 40s. “By the end of the show, I was so cold I was shivering.” If she had known it was going to be out of doors, she would have brought a warmer jacket. Perhaps the venue could be clearer ahead of time so its customers could prepare.
Doors were open at 8 o’clock, after more than two hours of waiting in line. But the night’s disappointments weren’t over.The outdoor venue—the Garage—is literally an old garage. Half the venue is inside, with a small stage and walls, and half is outside of it. “Didn’t make for good visibility. And the ground wasn’t raked.”
On top of that, there were the VIPs. “The stage was so small that only about 20 people could fit flush across the barrier. And there were so many people who shelled out for VIP that even though I was the fourth person through the doors, I couldn’t get closer than four rows back.” Ms. Moffa always gets to the venue early so she can be up against the barrier, since she is short and gets claustrophobic when there are tall people in front of her. She was annoyed that she couldn’t get closer than fourth row. “That’s worse than a Hanson concert. And there’s nothing worse than a Hanson concert.”
Plus, everyone was inebriated.
“The VIPs had an hour and a half before Doors to drink. By the time the normal people were let in, they were all smashed.” She was jostled constantly, and nobody would talk to her. “I’ve been to a lot of shows,” she added, “literally hundreds of them. And I’ve never been in a crowd that wouldn’t at least try and hold your spot while you peed, as long as it was before the show started.” She said that people wouldn’t even make eye contact with her, let alone talk to her long enough to ask. “They were all having conversations that sounded like yelling matches. It was so loud I couldn’t concentrate on the book I was trying to finish.”
It also wasn’t lit. “I could barely see right in front of me. There were lights on the stage, but they were facing away from the crowd, and the lights from the outside portion of the venue didn’t quite make it into the slew of drunk VIPs.” According to Ms. Moffa, one of them sat down on the ground, and people kept running into her. “I mean it was dumb to sit down in the pitch black,” she adds, “But the people around me were more focused on the beers in their hands than where they were walking.”
After about 20 minutes, she gave up. “There were too many tall people in front of me, and at some point, I was going to have to use the restroom. There was no way they’d hold my spot for me.”
She ended up behind the sound booth, a tried and true viewing area for short people. “It was totally fine through the two openers. I could see, at least, although not very well because the sound guys were right in front of me. I was willing to deal with that, though, because they were moving a lot, and there was space between us.”
The first opener was OK and only played a half an hour. But the second opener, Samm Henshaw, did a fair amount of rapping, which Ms. Moffa can’t stand. She tried the best she could to suffer through it, but eventually had to pull the Kindle back out again. “I felt bad, he seemed like a cool guy, but it’s not my style of music.”
Finally, Allen Stone came onstage. “And then,” she added, her voice level rising, “Some asshole who knew the sound guys and who was like six foot two decided to come into the booth, stand right in front of me, and stepped up onto the damn platform.” She adds that this was very bad form. “He was taller than everyone. He could have seen fine without standing on the platform. And he could have stood to the side of me. I was staring right at his back. I couldn’t move because there was a trash can beside me. He could’ve stood in front of the trash can, and wouldn’t have been blocking anyone. Jerk.”
She started to wonder if anyone in the entire crowd had ever been to a concert before. “It was like every single one of them forgot how to behave in public. Or maybe it was just there weren’t a lot of locals.” Everyone she heard talking was from out of town, or newly moved to the city. “I miss the old days, when Austinites were chill at concerts.”
After three songs, she had to move yet again. “Dred Guy was still standing right in front of me, and I’d about had it.”
She wiggled her way to the very back of the venue, intent on leaving. “I was so excited to see Allen. He’s such a talented performer, and I love his new album. But what was the point if I couldn’t see him? I could’ve stayed home and listened to the LP and been warm.”
Two steps from the door, she changed her mind. She saw a clear spot near the merch table. “I went over there, and I could see! There was a rack of t-shirts behind me, and it was stopping the wind, so it was warmer.”
But it wasn’t to be. “Apparently, I was in the way. I tried to be accommodating and move when someone walked up to look at the shirts, but that wasn’t enough. Instead of asking me to leave, the merch guy rammed me in the shoulder with the t-shirt rack.”
The first time, she thought it was an accident. Then it happened three more times. “I mean, how many times can you ram someone with a t-shirt rack accidentally? It had to be on purpose. Rude. Just ask me to move, I would’ve been fine. There’s no precedent for whacking someone with a rack of clothes. After a while I was just standing there to spite them.”
Eventually, though, she had enough, and moved. “He had some cool shirts, and maybe if I hadn’t gotten rammed by them, I would have bought one. Their loss.”
After half the set, people started leaving, and she was able to get closer. “I still wasn’t close enough to get any good pictures, but at least I could see.” She stayed for the rest of the show. “It could have been awesome. Really. He sounded amazing and played all my favorite songs. In fact, I think Allen sounds better live than he does in the studio, and that’s an impressive feat.”
But his talent didn’t make up for the rude fans or the bad venue. “The worst part was most of the drunk people who had been around me when I was in the front were out of it by the end of the show. I would have gotten closer if I’d stayed. My bladder would’ve suffered, though.” And there was no guarantee the people around her would have been polite. “My guess is that they got worse as the show went on.”
When asked if she would try to see Allen Stone again, she shrugged. “Depends on the venue. Stubb’s would be a good place for him.”
Would she ever go back to the Empire Garage?
“Only if John Bonham rose from the dead and Led Zeppelin did a reunion show.”
