Arboretum Amy’s

Arboretum Amy’s

Stopped there the other afternoon, in Austin. Brought back memories. Arboretum Amy’s, and music. Some of this predates, well, I’m unsure of antecedents, not sure what this predates.

The specifics are blurred by time, and I lived in South Austin at the time. Think: trailer park.

The guy behind the counter was the usual Amy’s special brand of friendly. Cool. It’s an Austin thing.

Got my usual Mexican Vanilla, and hearing the heavily reggae beat made me recall, I can’t give a year as I’m unsure. I was traveling with Bubba at the time. Blonde woman, large chest? Gave him a dog? A puppy at the time, and that’s his story. He claims it was the dog, or her eyes, or something. I suspect legs, chest, something like that. She wanted to unload a puppy, and he wanted a dog. Not sure, might’ve been another time. There was a woman, and he had to see someone about a dog.

The music, playing that night in Arboretum Amy’s was covers of “Disco Hits from the 80s,” but the catch with the bands playing the music? Hard core punk.

Arboretum Amy's

Arboretum Amy’s

I was mesmerized by the soundtrack. “Golden Oldies” from 15 years or so before, but the covers were played with that angry energy of punk. Thrash metal, whatever. Just brilliant.

Several years later, maybe a decade later, I stumbled into a band called “Me First and the Gimme Gimmies.” Same idea. Similar material, but not quite the same delivery. Close, but not quite the same. Think this was before iTunes was a thing.

That CD, I should look for it some time, as the covers were bootleg-like, and otherwise, amazing music. The guy behind the counter, at that ice cream store, he just handed it over.

“You just search Napster for punk, cover songs,” he explained, at the time.

That singular experience was more than a dozen years ago. Arboretum Amy’s is still there. The other afternoon, is was slightly more mellow reggae beat. The spirit survives.

That’s Old Austin.

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About the author: Born and raised in a small town in East Texas, Kramer Wetzel spent years honing his craft in a trailer park in South Austin. He hates writing about himself in third person. More at KramerWetzel.com.

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