Where are the magical cities?

I lived in Austin, Texas in the 1990s. It was a shadow of itself compared to the incredible time of the 1970s and 80s, a time lovingly showcased in the Country Music PBS documentary, a time I heard about over and over from people who were there. But when old-timers would say, “Oh, you have NO idea, it used to be AMAZING, it’s nothing like that now,” I would think, well, I know it’s not near like it used to be, but I sure am having a great time!

When I lived in Austin, there were still half a dozen live music shows to choose from almost every night. There were a dozen bands and performers who played regularly and that I loved to see whenever I could, I went to shows by myself if no one wanted to go with me, and I saw amazing performances in packed dance halls and empty clubs and everything in between – and it was magical. Rent was affordable. Cheap, fun restaurants were everywhere. The east side of I 35 was its own Austin. I could park within a few blocks of wherever I was going – for free. I knew all sorts of places off-the-beaten path, and when friends from out of town would come visit, they were astounded at what might be behind this door in this non-descript building, or around this corner in this seemingly-seedy neighborhood (okay, actually, some of them were seedy). It all felt so special and accessible and welcoming. There weren’t hipsters – there were just people, in all shapes and sizes, digging good music, good food and good times.

But even then, I could see the population rising vastly and rapidly, and all my favorite music venues threatened with closure because landlords and land lease owners could make so much more money selling out to high-tech and chain restaurants. Plus, I couldn’t take the heat anymore – the summer and fall heat of Central Texas were overwhelming. I began looking to move elsewhere, before the magic of Austin was gone entirely, and I lucked out and got to move to Europe, per a very special job offer out of the blue.

I went back to Austin in 2019 and 2020 and, indeed, the magic is long gone: the traffic, the lack of available parking, the closed music venues, the apartment buildings staring down on the Broken Spoke – Austin is, sadly, over. At least for me. Except for the Broken Spoke.  

Times change. I accept that. No lifestyle and culture in a specific place is forever. But as I watch so many TV shows about past times when a particular place not only had affordable rent but an incredible artists-centric or outdoor-centric and very welcoming culture – Austin, Texas, Greenwich Village in New York City, various neighborhoods in San Francisco and Los Angeles – I wonder: do places like those exist anymore in other cities? Where is the affordable neighborhood in a big city or on a beach where musicians and other artists and craftspeople are enjoying what they make, and each other, and if you aren’t a musician or artist or craftsperson, you get to tag along and enjoy it, because everyone is welcomed? That place where artists work in traditional jobs during the day and make are at night and on the weekends? That place for the outsiders, not the hipsters?

I knew as soon as I came to Austin, Texas the first time that I wanted to move there. Every time we go on a trip now, I’m looking around small cities and neighborhoods in larger cities, hoping for that feeling again. The next, magical place.

It ain’t Portland, FYI.