Bob Schneider

Bob Schneider

In the heavy Texas summer heat, Bob Schneider stands in his garage, splattered in paint. Thick leaves pulled from fine art books soak in water baths as he prepares layers for a new collage. Intestines swirl on faces, haunted eyes peer out, and paintbrushes coat layers upon layers of glue as images transform one atop the other until Bob steps back, done.

The collage will find itself as the cover of Bob's latest album, a curated collection of three thematically-linked five song EPs, collectively titled King Kong. The album hearkens back to his earliest releases, Lonelyland (2001), I'm Good Now (2004), albums that brought the essence of Bob—good songs, all genres, fun and harrowing, sharp and insightful. Songs to dance to, to laugh with, to mourn through.

Fans who buy the physical album are treated to an artistic masterpiece, a collector's dream, with prints of Bob's art wrapping the music.

Bob Schneider is the best artist you've never heard of. But this year alone, he's headlining every premiere venue in Austin—the Paramount, the Bass Concert Hall, Dell Hall at the Long Center, and ACL Live/Moody Theater. Sure, he's struggled to break out of the Texas bubble, but this doesn't stop him. "If I were to listen to the gatekeepers—the critics, the charts—I'd never have done anything." And though the media barely grants him sidelong glances, the audiences keep coming.

Bob packs houses, he croons, he makes everybody swoon.
Bob Schneider is tenacious, constantly churning out new work. He's thinking ahead, two albums down the line. "When I'm recording a record, when I'm mixing a record, I'm still writing songs. I'm always writing songs." He's known for his prolific catalogue, more songs than most other bands on the charts have…combined. He brims with projects and ideas: a demo bible—a collection of 1000 original demos with lyrics—is long in the works, a way for his longterm fans to access all of his songs and all of their lyrics, from the deeply poetic to the tangled and twisted to the flat-out profane. He's also hard at work developing The Across The World Symphony.
Bob doesn't sleep. At least, it seems like he doesn't sleep. He's working on an arrangement at four a.m. He stays up all night filming and editing videos to accompany the songs on King Kong, releasing new videos weekly.

Offered a new project—a cameo appearance in a film, the chance to judge the Literary Death Match, and Bob's all in: "That sounds terrifying. I'll totally do it." He thrives on the challenge, happier to tackle projects that teeter on the edge of failure than return to the mundane sure successes.

Tell Bob that he can't do a project, and he'll just stop talking to you about it. "I have a complete inability to take no for an answer," he laughs. If he's got his mind set on it, he's going to make it happen. Ideas, projects, art pours out of him.

One spring afternoon, he arrives at a friend's yard to haul off a six-foot-tall tree trunk that blew down in a storm. Coming straight from a photo shoot, he's dressed to the nines, but quickly gets covered in mulch and bark as he lugs the giant logs around, investigating which one he wants to bring home. He'll work it on his back patio, sanding and sawing and sanding until he's got another in a series of haunting wooden sculptures, phallic, monk-like, a wooden choir of silent song and prayer. Trees fall, Bob crafts, sawdust in his hair.

Then he crashes into bed, catches just enough downtime to revive him, and wakes again, moving at top speed. He showers, drinks a pot of coffee, and races off to a gig. He arrives onstage, fully present and ready to play.

Audiences around the world can now peek into the sacred heart of the Austin live music scene, as Bob has begun livestreaming his Monday night residency at the Saxon Pub. Here each week for over fifteen years, he's gathered up his band Lonelyland, and taken over this Austin institution. Bob presents his newest songs, plays with fresh arrangements, and charms the pants off of everyone in the room.

Bob Schneider is always pushing himself. And he's pushing his audience. His songs are alive, fierce, hilarious, raw, crass. And then soulful, haunting, sweet, good.

He'll leave you breathless. He must leave you breathless. He pushes himself to breathlessness, howling into the mic, playing his fingers raw, the room awash in thick waves of sound.

Then he's jaunty, silly, laughing at his own jokes and tossing around a flyaway tune. Listen closely, and the lyrics speak of loss, betrayal, sorrow. But he'll sing it to you with a smile and a twinkle in his eye.

Del Castillo

Del Castillo is a Latin rock band based in Austin, Texas. The band's name comes from the last name of two brothers, Rick and Mark del Castillo, who founded the group

Rod Melancon

Like the soundtrack to a movie that doesn’t yet exist, Rod Melancon’s Pinkville whips up a world filled with shellshocked war veterans, gun-wielding rock & rollers, and other down-on-their-luck characters, mixing cinematic details and electric guitars into its own version of greasy, gothic Americana.

Pulling everything together is Melancon himself: a southern songwriter and storyteller rooted in the oral tradition of Cormac McCarthy and Larry Brown. His songs are dark and detailed, and his voice — which veers between a spoken-word delivery, a croon, and a rough-edged howl — is every bit as diverse as the material it delivers. Pinkville, his fourth release, makes plenty of room for that diversity. There are psychedelic soul songs, Rolling Stones-inspired rockers, tributes to icons like Freddy Fender and Tom Petty, and a cover of Bruce Springsteen’s “57 Channels (And Nothin’ On),” all captured in analog sound by co-producers Adrian Quesada and Will Walden.

More biographical than the three albums before it, Pinkville begins in the swampy backcountry of Louisiana. It was there, deep inside Vermilion Parrish, that Melancon grew up making trips to his family’s crayfish pond. During those drives, he’d regularly pass by a dazed, older man shuffling back and forth in his own front yard, dressed in long johns and combat boots. That man — an Army vet who’d fought in Vietnam and returned home in a warped state, his mind permanently haunted by the horrors of the My Lai Massacre — left a mark on Melancon, who kicks off his new album with a spoken-word title track about the man and his wartime demons. That leadoff song introduces one of Pinkville‘s central themes: the hard truths that either make or break a person.

Western Youth

Hailing from Austin, TX Western Youth staggers between beer-drenched rock n' roll, folk and alt. country to create a sound that's all their own.

$20.00 - $100.00

Tickets

LIVE AT THE NUTT REUNION SHOW: Bring the whole family and your lawn chairs and enjoy the immersive sound of this tour de force of Austin musicians, Bob Schneider, Del Castillo, Rod Melancon and Western Youth. 

 

VIP tables can accomodate up to four people and are the only guaranteed seating option. VIP tableholders will enjoy cocktailing and menu service from their server for the evening.

 

No outside food, drinks or containers are allowed. We have walkup food service and a full bar onsite.

 

Please see our FAQ and Venue Policies for more info.

Who’s Going

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Nutty Brown Amphitheatre