My first Convergence (C IV) was last year. This event was something of a trial run for me. Although I have maintained a fringe interest in gothic music going all the way back to Bauhaus' In the Flat Field circa 1978, punk and 80s new wave are my mainstays. In addition I harbored considerable skepticism with regard to the gothic community as a whole. From my punk rock upbringing I felt that gothics took themselves way too seriously for me to take them seriously. Nevertheless, I remained always tempted by the decadence of the movement. (Nothing feels and looks as good as gothic attire-and I mean nothing!)

Decadence is something to take seriously. Black silk skirts, no underwear, women in corsets. Why say no?

My interest in gothic music began to resurface while living in Bristol England. Movies like Near Dark aside, Texas is considerably less conducive to gothic culture than foggy, brooding old Blighty. I met a number of delightful persons in London's Vampire Society, and was utterly blown away by the high energy pagan sound of Inkubus Sukkubus whom I was much privileged to see at the Marquee in London.

Convergence in New Orleans was an enjoyable event for me, enough to want to go again. This year's Convergence was held in Seattle, which although lacking the natural ambiance of N.O.L.A. (it just doesn't get any gother than New Orleans) was considerably cooler, and much more conducive to capes, skirts, corsets, and the like. Distance limited the number of Austin area folks who made the trek this year, however our fair city was still represented by about a dozen of us.

I arrived late Wednesday evening, just in time to head down to the Vogue where there was some frightening karaoke and then Nocturne. My more electronica-oriented comrades were less impressed with the fairly crunchy sound of this four piece. My satanic little ears perked up at the churning thump their bassist was producing. A word to the redneck goth-bashers out there. If you want to pick on somebody I'd stay the hell away from this guy. He definitely shattered the scrawny gothboy stereotype. I watched in admiration-the girls just drooled. I was however, too exhausted to fully appreciate Nocturne's music or their bassist's abs. This was sad because their somewhat Genitortureresque sound was very much to my taste. Still there was the rest of the weekend.

Saturday night our group split up. Some had booked tickets for a cruise aboard the good ship Spirit of Seattle while the rest of us headed to the Mercury club. The Mercury is roughly the size of our own Atomic Café, with less emphasis on pool-though they do have one table. No one was there to play pool however, not when a DJ the likes of Hana Solo was spinning. I now know what it must had been like to be a fourteen-year-old girl at the Hollywood Bowl in the presence of John and Sir Paul. Her selection of music ranged from Covenant to Sister's of Mercy and was universally danceable. Cop International Records new compilation was the showcase feature, including the likes of Diva X Machina 3. The crossovers were seamless and continuous. I made it a point to dance next to the DJ booth in the vain hope that lightning would strike and she would notice me out of the crowd. I haven't felt that young and giddy since, well, I was young and & umm & giddy.

Unfortunately the scene at the Mercury suffered sharply after midnight. This was due partly to the fact that minors were allowed reentry after licensing hour (02:00 in Washington) and even more because the cruise participants returned. No one's fault in particular; it just got too crowded. I left at approximately 03:00 having danced my skinny ass right down to the bone (which isn't far) and made loads of connections with some wonderful people (you know who you are).

Sunday night was the grand finale. The evening began with a lovely dinner at Dahila Lounge. I was somewhat worried that our appearance in full-goth mode (I was wearing a flowing black skirt with an antique purple kimono) would cause problems, but we were seated promptly and graciously. The atmosphere was relatively quiet and utterly conducive to conversation, unlike some Austin establishments-Mars for all its menu delights comes to mind & The star attraction of the evening was the Copper River Salmon. For those who are unfamiliar with this little gem (I was not) it is the crème of the leather-riding crop. This particular salmon only runs for three weeks out of the year through a rough river that makes for a mighty fish. We were lucky enough to peg this in its extraordinarily small window of opportunity. Cooked medium rare, its flesh was marbled in the sort of perfect way you'd expect from a steak at Dan McKluskey's. The Chinook 95 Cabernet was equal to the task and please don't grump about my choice of wine because that salmon could kick ass on a Spanish Rioja and keep right on spawning, yo. When I asked not to be poured the bottom of the bottle, the sommelier, rather than sniffing at me for being a pretentious wanker, which I probably was being, acted as though it were the best idea she'd ever heard.

Our party split company after experiencing the delights of Dahlia. Two of us proceeded to the Showbox to get in early. On the bill were the talented and surpassingly hilarious Voltaire (anyone with that sense of sarcasm simply must have been punk in another life: "No you can't be a vampire and work at Wal-Mart & ") as well as storming performances by Attrition, and DJs Frost and Scary Lady Sarah.

Nothing however impressed the been-there-done-that crowd like the surprise appearance by Peter Murphy. At age thirty-three I grow more and more devoted to the likes of Iggy Pop as obvious role models to my desperate attempt not to grow up-or at least go out like a bat out of hell. Peter Murphy's acoustic set was simply charming and commanded the sort of "I Have Nothing Left To Prove" chutzpah that can only come from being a thirty year veteran of professional pop music. It goes without saying that Sir Peter is considerably better preserved than Iggy-though that isn't difficult.

Great food (did I mention the sushi at Nikko's is equal to Musashino and that's sayin' sumpin'), greater music, still greater music, and most of all great people. Austin needs its turn! Any takers?