14 minute read
Adrian Grenier
staring at my computer screen, watching a denim shirt-clad man in dappled light tell me about his life.
“I spent about a year living in a small, tiny camper,” says Adrian Grenier, aka Vincent Chase, aka “Baby Bro” from “Entourage.” He’s narrating the first episode of “Earth Speed,” his new docu-series on environmental innovators — but first, back to the camper.
“I bought it from a guy on Craigslist, I drove it back to Austin and I parked it in a tiny patch of land. I began what many call the dark night of the soul,” he murmurs. “It was where I started to unravel my ego identity, and started to find greater purpose. Upon reemerging, I found myself here. In nature. With a much more grounded, rooted sense of self.”
It’s all very romantic, in a Thoreau-like sense of the word (“I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately … ”). But here’s the thing: I believe Adrian.
I believe he craved purpose, because I met him years ago, when he was still searching for it.
Jog your memory back to the early-to-mid 2000s, when prestige TV was still getting its sea legs. We had “The Sopranos,” we had “The Wire”; in short we had HBO, with AMC as the dark horse no one saw coming (“Mad Men,” “Breaking Bad”). And then we had “Entourage”: HBO’s cis male echo of “Sex & The City,” a frothy fantasy of cars, babes and movie contracts. Adrian played the lead character, loosely based on Mark Wahlberg, though unfortunately (for us all), we never did get a flashback to the making of “Good Vibrations.”
Back then, Adrian’s real life seemed to mirror his character’s, which is to say he was famous and good-looking. The world was, as they say, his oyster.
I covered Adrian at the height of his “Entourage” fame, for a lifestyle piece on Churchkey — a now-retired beer company he created with his best friend. And chatting with him, I got the sense he was … bored.
“Actors are infantilized,” said Cameron Diaz in a 2020 interview with ‘goop.’ “We’re put in a position where everything is taken care of for us.” I’ve thought about this quote a lot since I came across it, struck as much by its blunt truth-telling as I was by the weird way we treat famous people in this culture (maybe every culture). Actors are in the business of imitating life, but how are they to do that, when the Famous Person Industrial
Complex™ scrubs away all of life’s serendipity? It’s continual need for problem-solving, its inconveniences and hardships?
Adrian wasn’t bored with Churchkey, but he was clearly looking for something beyond Hollywood. It was around this time he started doing more environmental advocacy, a calling rife with hardship — and hope.
That brings me back to “Earth Speed” (available now on Instagram and YouTube, produced by Bia Carminati), which follows Adrian as he talks to various environmental figures, some based right here in Austin. That includes Jamie Wheal, author of the very phonetic “Recapture the Rapture: Rethinking God, Sex, and Death in a World That’s Lost Its Mind” (Harper Wave, 2021), and, btw, a mountaineer.
“For sure, that was a crisis in life and meaning, in relationship to self and others, in the middle of your life,” says Jamie, talking to and about Adrian in Episode One, summing up his dark night of the soul.
“It sounded like, at least as you’ve described it to me, that you intuitively sought out the things you felt had the greatest deficits in your life and world. So getting humble and numinous, rooting yourself in the soil and growing things, being creative in the real world and 3-D, not in simulation.”
It’s this philosophical quality that characterizes “Earth Speed,” whose overarching message is: if we want to heal Earth, we also have to heal ourselves. But what does that healing look like?
“When people connect, they care,” Adrian says, drawing on his organization Lonely Whale, which doesn’t seek to save whales — but rather, foster personal connections between individuals and the ocean.
“Empowering the individual is what we need right now,” says Adrian. “With permaculture for example, if you look at the most resilient systems, it’s not about mono-crops, it’s not one-sizefits-all, it’s about diversity of thought, of inclusion, a diversity of thinking across whole populations. If we can all level up on an individual level, it’s easier to show up and participate.”
In layman’s terms: if people are inspired to have a relationship with the Earth, they’re more invested in the Earth; when they treat it better, they’re healed in the process. But the “leveling up” step is slightly more mysterious, so every episode “Earth Speed” opens with a call to action of sorts – one that asks viewers to look within. “Each episode of “Earth Speed” has practical applications on personal development, self-sufficiency, sovereignty, a nature-based lifestyle and the businesses that are helping to scale those concepts out in the larger society,” Adrian tells me — and here’s where we get down to brass tacks, healing-wise. I think for Adrian, and arguably for most of us, modern life moves so incredibly fast that we simply lack the time to create an intimate relationship with the dirty, muddy ground. We’re working. We’re paying our bills. We’re trying not to drive and text. We’re swatting away a million phone notifications. So when we see someone like Adrian, who achieved the type of career success that millions strive for — and still felt empty — he seems, bizarrely, like the most reliable messenger of a nature-based lifestyle. First red carpets, now grassy fields. “If you’re trying to change the world externally, that requires that you go tell other people what to do,” Adrian tells me. “It requires that you exert a certain amount of control on the world outside yourself, and no one person can have ultimate purview over the entire complexity of all society and all of nature, that we can dictate the right answer. But we can make a personal choice, and dictate what’s right for us, from our own ethical lens, from our own spiritual perspective.”
Adrian was (and still is) a UN goodwill ambassador for the environment; he’s an investor, he is by any measure a serial entrepreneur. But clearly, he’s happiest on his farm just outside of Austin, where things are quieter. Slower. Where this relationship can flourish, where he can dictate what’s right for his land, by directly observing what it needs to thrive. And then turn around, and show us what he’s learning, from the environmental innovators he talks to.
I ask Adrian how he’d describe “Earth Speed” in a single sentence — and what he tells me seems to describe his current life ethos as well.
“A lifestyle in the cadence of nature,” he smiles. instagram.com/earthspeed
Lifelong Love for Movies
FONS PR ENHANCES AUSTIN FILM SCENE
By Britni Rachal Photos by Brian Fitzsimmons
THIS YEAR’S SXSW FESTIVAL WILL INCLUDE A LOT OF NEW BEGINNINGS — A screening and premiere of Roku’s first-ever streaming TV series, an outdoor Disney film series at the Long Center for Performing Arts — among dozens of other surprises as the festival’s live events return after a two-year hiatus. Behind the creative lens of much of the publicity is mastermind husband and wife team, Brandy and Ryan Fons, who own a small boutique agency that specializes in promoting movies and film.
Excitement is evident as SXSW returns, after being one of the first major events to be abruptly canceled, just six days ahead of its planned 2020 opening date. Representing Fons PR and sitting on the advisory board of the festival, Brandy is also a publicity mentor to SXSW organizers each year.
One of the events most notable is the opening night of the film, “Everything Everywhere All At Once.” After a tumultuous two years, the movie may be relatable for fans. Directed by a duo known as “the Daniels” — Daniel Kwan and Daniel Scheinert — the plot is centered around a woman named Evelyn who is having the worst day of her life, first learning her taxes are being audited and then entering a cosmic battle that will decide the fate of everyone, everywhere. Michelle Yeoh, James Hong and Jamie Lee Curtis star in the movie.
“The film is hilarious and exciting. It’s the perfect SXSW film,” says Ryan, who has had a lifelong knack for spotting the best films.
“Meeting people who knew Ryan in middle school, they would tell me that instead of signing ‘have a great year’ in their yearbook, he’d write, ‘Go see Batman Returns or you’ll regret it,’” says Brandy. “He was promoting movies before he became a publicist for movies.”
Little did Ryan know, much of his life would center around movies. A press party for 2001 movie Pearl Harbor brought him and Brandy together for the first time. The two had been working together at different Disney locations and talking on the phone for a year. With social media not yet invented, they didn’t know what one another looked like. That is — until Director Michael Bay brought his entire crew to Honolulu ahead of the film’s opening.
Fast forward to Brandy transferring to Los Angeles where Ryan already lived, a once “secret” relationship found out by a co-worker and then a proposal at the “Lord of the Rings: Return of the King” premiere and the two have now been together for over 20 years and have a 14-year-old daughter.
The couple moved to Austin in 2006 — a decision made easy after Ryan spent a weekend working at Alamo Drafthouse’s Fantastic Fest event.
“Literally within three hours of touching down and only having spent my time at Alamo Drafthouse, I called Brandy up and I said yes, let’s move,” said Ryan. “I thought if this is representative of what Austin is, then this is where I want to be. Everybody seemed to know each other, and everybody was in love with movies. I had never experienced a theatre with such a sense of community.”
Now 16 years later, and eight commemorative Fantastic Fest tattoos shared between Brandy and Alamo Drafthouse founder Tim League, a genuine and trusting business relationship only seems to grow stronger.
“It’s interesting that our paths would cross with this amazing couple — Tim and Carrie — and that we’ve been able to work in film and grow with Alamo over the last 13 years. I think that a lot of our success is from this union,” says Brandy.
A long, entrepreneurial route — some of the Fons’ team’s best memories include a PR event that allowed four people to watch Ryan Reynold’s movie “Buried” while buried inside coffins with TV screens, a moment also featured in the New York Times. Other memorable events include a Blair Witch takeover on South Congress that caught the attention of Entertainment Weekly.
“A lot of the things that we do have the goal of trying to gain coverage outside of Austin,” says Ryan.
“We enjoy being so creative that we can spread our love for film in Austin, so others can see what’s going on here,” says Brandy.
Growing with the city, the firm currently has eight employees and was able to keep the entire team — to weather the pandemic together.
“All of our employees have been here for four or more years. We know that all of our successes are because of our team as well.” fonspr.com
Africa Night at Sahara Lounge
YOUR SATURDAY NIGHT JUST GOT FUNKIER
By Tolly Moseley Photos by Brian Fitzsimmons
EVERY SATURDAY NIGHT IN AUSTIN, TEXAS, A GROOVE SETtles into place on Webberville Road. A master musician takes the stage, hailing from Niger, Guinea, Ghana or Cote d’Ivoire — and one by one, the modest dance floor fills. A sea of arms, hips and smiles starts to swell, as guests drop their inhibitions, gyrate to funk-filled music, and give way to the kind of sonic pleasure we’ve been desperately craving, lo these many Covid years. Ladies and gentlemen: welcome to Africa Night at Sahara Lounge.
“Africa Night isn’t our invention, but we wanted to have one at Sahara Lounge right from the start,” says Eileen Bristol, owner of Sahara Lounge since 2011. She and then-husband, Ibrahim Aminou, and Eileen’s son Topaz McGarrigle (front man for Golden Dawn Arkestra) created Sahara in the immediate wake of TC’s, a decades-old blues institution on 1413 Webberville Road. When TC’s owner Thomas Perkins was ready to move on, Eileen and
her family offered to buy the property — a low-ceiling, billiards-abundant affair, complete with twinkle lights and dirt parking lot.
“It was a little bit crazy,” says Eileen, who plays electric bass for Ibrahim’s band, Zoumountchi — one of the many afrobeat bands you can see every Saturday. Born in Houston, she moved to Austin in 1969, and helped found Austin Waldorf School in 1980. But it wasn’t until a journey north to Ann Arbor, Michigan, that she met Ibrahim — who had a dream, the sleeping kind, that they were going to move to Austin and open a restaurant club.
When they heard TC’s was for sale, that dream became a reality.
Now before we go any further, reader, there are two things you should know about Africa Night: global superstars play there, superstars whose names you may or may not know, given Austin’s overwhelmingly rock/country ecosystem. But the second thing you should know is this: there’s always food, and it’s always free.
“Ibrahim grew up in Africa, but worked in France and Switzerland, so he was used to Africa Nights there, and they always had food. So did TC’s, so there was that connection,” says Eileen. “One time, Ibrahim and I went to visit Topaz while he was in New York City, and all went down to an Africa Night on St. Nicholas. And it was so wonderful; different people would come and sit in, and there was the free food … so when we talked about opening Sahara Lounge, we knew we’d have an Africa Night, and we grabbed Saturday night for it. The best slot.”
Let’s talk then about who you can expect to see at Sahara, any given Saturday.
Zoumountchi is Ibrahim’s outfit, full of ’70s-style funk and a prominent horn section. (That’s another thing you can expect every Saturday — horn sections.) There’s Aboubacar (“Abou”) Sylla, who grew up in Guinea, West Africa, where he learned balafon, djembe, krin, doundoun and bote — all the percussion tools he’d use for master musicianship, and just a sample of the instruments he hauls out on-stage. If you want a field test for vision, look no further than Abou, whose hands fly across his accouterments faster than your eyes can reasonably register. A Master Folk Artist for Texas Folklife’s Folk Arts Apprenticeship Program, he travels the world performing — but you can see him for $10 each weekend.
Next, we’ve got Gidi Agbeko, who learned to play the music of his Ghanaian village before he was old enough for school. By 14, he was playing in Ghana’s capital city (Accra); by early adulthood, he was touring Africa and Europe. He’s now at Sahara several Saturdays, singing, playing flute and high-energy percussion, pausing intermittently to leap into the audience. Jean-Claude Lessou fronts System Positif, an afro-rock reggae band with chillaxed vibes and soulful energy, emanating from his Cote d’Ivoire roots. When she’s in town, Guinea’s Aicha Wambaya — “an absolutely incredible singer and performer,” says Eileen — plays Sahara, as does her husband Alseny Sylla, co-founder of Lannaya: a nonprofit that preserves African Diaspora Arts through performances and hands-on workshops.
It all adds up to the kind of musical atmosphere that, in theory, Austin is famous for: vivacious talent packed into an unassuming bar, Sharpie messages scrawled on bathroom doors, cheap beer in people’s hands. It’s just that Austin isn’t famous for African music, and for all our town’s best-kept “secrets,” Africa Night really does feel like one. The building of Sahara Lounge has housed different venues for over 50 years, and being inside, you feel it — the floorboards creaking under your feet, the rugs on the stage, the backyard that feels like a house party. But the secret’s getting out: last year, Sahara Lounge was voted Best Dive Bar by Austin Chronicle readers. It survived Covid, buoyed by government grants and passionate lounge-goers, desperate to keep it alive. Desperate to keep Africa Night alive.
“And we’re still here,” says Eileen. “As long as we’re standing, so will Africa Night.” saharalounge.com
