Benefit Concerts or Corporate Circle Jerks? Austin’s Flood Relief Shows, Ranked by How Much They’ll Make You Cringe

Oh, joy. Another round of benefit concerts where the rich and famous get to pat themselves on the back for "helping" while the rest of us peasants scrape together our last $10 to see some washed-up tribute bands. Nothing says "community solidarity" like Miranda Lambert and Matthew McConaughey crooning about heartbreak while actual flood victims are still sleeping in their cars. But hey, at least we get to choose between overpriced stadium beer or Kick Butt Coffee’s lukewarm sludge—all in the name of charity, of course.

Let’s break it down, shall we? First up, we’ve got "A Night of Beauty for the Heart of Texas," which sounds like a corporate retreat masquerading as a benefit. Poetry? Art? Light snacks? Wow, nothing says "urgent disaster relief" like a lukewarm charcuterie board and some guy named Dan Radin strumming acoustic covers of "Wonderwall." But don’t worry, folks—Still Austin will be there to drown your sorrows in overpriced whiskey, because nothing heals trauma like capitalism in a fancy bottle.

Then there’s the "CenTex Strong" show, featuring—wait for it—a Foo Fighters tribute band. Because when you’re homeless and your life’s in shambles, what you really need is Dave Grohl’s ghost belting out "Everlong" from the grave of your dignity. And if that’s not enough, you can "add an extra donation" to your ticket, because Ticketmaster’s fees weren’t already gouging you enough.

But my personal favorite? The Mohawk’s lineup, which includes a band called "Sexpop"—because nothing says "helping flood victims" like a band name that sounds like a rejected STD. And let’s not forget Kick Butt Coffee’s punk show, where you can mosh to "Brass Knuckle Monkey" while pretending the $10 door charge isn’t just going to cover the venue’s flood insurance deductible.

And then, the pièce de résistance: Miranda Lambert and Kelly Clarkson at the Moody Center, where you’ll pay $200 to watch celebrities perform their greatest hits while pretending they’ve ever set foot in a flooded basement. But hey, at least Dennis Quaid will be there to remind us all that even Hollywood has a heart—assuming it doesn’t conflict with their next Netflix deal.

So grab your boots, your flannel, and your credit card, Austin. Because nothing solves systemic disaster neglect like a bunch of concerts where the real victims are your eardrums and your bank account. Stay strong, y’all—or at least stay drunk enough to forget who’s actually profiting here.

P.S. If you’re reading this, Lyle Lovett, I’ll trade you a zine for a backstage pass. Just saying.