One thing Austin music is often at a loss for is a sense of humor, especially about itself. This town is convinced it has the greatest music scene on the face of the earth. We may well be right, but our prominence has arisen at the expense of our humility. One bright and shining exception to this trend were Joe "King" Carrasco & The Crowns, a band of merry pranksters who helped keep Austin's collective feet firmly planted on the ground - while making us dance like crazy. In the early days of the Austin punk scene, the Crowns took the traditions of indigenous Tex-Mex music and married it to frenetic new wave goofiness (e.g. B-52's, Devo). Their early records feature light, persistent beats, simple, irresistible hooks, bleating Farfisa organ (courtesy of cute Kris Cummings), and profoundly silly lyrics.

Joe "King" Carrasco was born Joe Teusch, a goofy Texas kid enamored with both Mexican culture and rock music. These obsessions - along with Carrasco's uniquely skewed perspective - were profoundly felt on his debut, Tex-Mex Rock-Roll (Lisa Records, 1978), recorded with El Molina, a rag-tag band of local semi-legends like bassist Speedy Sparks and Farfisa virtuoso Augie Meyers (from the Sir Douglas Quintet). Tex-Mex Rock-Roll, however, sounded rather traditional (lyrics notwithstanding), particularly compared to the edgy music (let's call it "Nuevo Wavo") Carrasco would start making after forming the Crowns. (See ROIR's Tales From The Crypt, a 1979 live recording first released on cassette in 1984, then reissued on compact disc in 2000.)

Joe and the Crowns released their self-titled debut (Hannibal, 1980) to much acclaim in 1980. Ira Robbins (of Trouser Press) later explained that despite their many influences (rockabilly, polka, Tejano), the Crowns' forte was "playing '96 Tears' under a variety of guises, all of them delightful." An EP, Party Safari (Hannibal, 1981), and more notoriety followed before the band signed to a major label, MCA. The records they produced there - an LP, Synapse Gap (1982), and an EP, Party Weekend (1983) - were fine, though the '96 Tears' routine began to wear a bit thin. All the same, the band failed to earn a hit despite a vocal cameo by Michael Jackson (no, really), and some MTV airplay for the anthemic title track from Party Weekend.

So, it was back to the minors for Señor José y Las Coronas. More than anything, though, it was the Crowns' James Brown-meets-Pee Wee Herman stage show that had endeared them to hipsters and frat boys alike. Even as Carrasco subsequently flirted with world beats and political messages (c.f. Bordertown, 1984), the band's fiesta-friendly stance never flagged, and they (or Carrasco, at least) have become fixtures on the south Texas party circuit. Follow his progress at www.joeking.com.

Sadly, however, virtually everything the Crowns ever released is out-of-print, and their critically acclaimed Hannibal catalog has never been reissued on CD. So, watch for their LP's and CD's around town or online. Of particular note are One Way Records' Anthology (1995), which contains their complete MCA output; Tornado Records' CD reissue of Tex-Mex Rock-Roll (often listed as a self-titled release); and Last Call's 3-for-1 CD package, which corrals Carrasco's entire late 80's catalog on New Rose and Rounder Records.