Meanwhile, back in Austin, the South by Southwest film festival has given way to music, and Lou Reed is in town to give the keynote speech. We agree to play two of his songs at an afternoon tribute show six years ago today. All we need to do is show up with guitars, pedals and drumsticks, everything else is provided. No soundcheck, of course; the goal is to follow the previous band as quickly as possible. Known far and wide as team players, Georgia is willing to stand up front with a minimal drum set, even though this evocation of Maureen Tucker risks putting a little too much tribute into the tribute. The stage manager says no–all drummers are sharing the kit in its traditional upstage position. We clarify that Georgia’s left-handed, and the time it takes to reset the drums for her, and then re-reset them for the next right-handed drummer, will mess up their schedule. Georgia’s up front. We’ve decided to play “She’s My Best Friend” and “I Heard Her Call My Name.” Word circulates that Lou is in fact at the event somewhere, but I’m not looking for him. Seems like a lose-lose proposition: for obvious reasons, if he’s snubbing us; but if he’s watching, that’s only going to make me self-conscious. We sing our songs, pack up and head for our car–we’re opening for My Morning Jacket later that night. Up walks Lou Reed! He compliments me on the “energy” of my guitar solo, and I ask him questions I’ve always had about Metal Machine Music and the Surfsiders and . . . No, not even close. I say thanks, James says thanks. Georgia missed the whole thing.
