The Lost Well: Austin Punk’s Last Stand

We all know Austin is changing at a pace that’s perverse. Every token corner of sanity we can hold onto is like a tattered blankie – so much of what we love can be taken from us via a new lease, gentrification, or building owners wanting to cash out. Many of the bars and venues of the past are now alive thanks to a savvy marketer coupling with new construction Svengalis, giving the names of their suites like the “Armadillo World Headquarters” or “the Trudy’s Room,” offering a gross impression of what was in a place steeped in so much cultural history. Yet some places remain – like The Lost Well. 

If there’s one place that gives pause, it’s the Lost Well. By design, it’s not meant for everyone. It’s dark, the music is aggressive, and it generally looks like a place you might die. Harleys are parked in front; everyone is in black, and what comes pumping out the door is raucous and loud. But that’s only on the surface. Instead, the Lost Well is Austin’s last stand for rock and roll, punk rock, and heavy metal that’s not co-opted by some hip chef or where someone’s trying to push a mixologist-inspired drink menu. The drinks are strong, and the Lonestar’s are cold. And people are always willing to welcome newcomers, and the bartenders never try to chase you out for being a poser but happy you’re sitting down for a long neck during happy hour. While the world can feel insane out there, this is one of the safe havens for people who want to have a few to Black Sabbath or the Misfits. Motorhead is always on tap, and there is much Jameson to shoot. 

When asked about how the bar kicked off, owners Marcello Murphy, Murphy’s wife, Tasha, and head bartender Andy Porter  just wanted a place where they felt at home. “Lovejoys had just closed. (a then iconic Austin punk hang) We all came from that bar and wanted to keep the traditions of what that was, but I dunno, different.” Murphy said. “I was working here when it was Frontier Bar, and it was struggling. The three of us went to the owners and tried to do our rebrand, and they agreed. It’s our home. When times are tough, we have this place.” Said, Porter.

And for the last decade, the bar has thrived – even through COVID. “We’re coming up on our tenth-anniversary party this summer. We treat every year like it could be our last.” While that’s a true statement, given the Austin market for basically anything, the bar has become a home base for many people who don’t feel like they have a place elsewhere. The bar is the longest-standing on Webberville Road, with others like Gourmands closing recently.

During the pandemic, The Lost Well made merchandise, hosted live streams, had special records pressed, and one journalist even shot a whole spoken word special there (me). Still, people stood by whatever it took, refusing to let this place, this piece of their identity, die. Since then, the shows have increased, but they don’t book things just to be a venue. “We book shows we want to see. We book bands we like, not just to make money.” And that ethos has kept the legion of customers staying with the bar because it’s worth supporting on the cold nights and the hot ones, too. Finding that piece of sanity in Austin can be an amazing thing, and for many of the folks who want to go somewhere to hear power violence or old-timey country with a whisky twinge, the Lost Well is that place, spray paint, stickers, skulls, warts, and all. 

“We couldn’t find a bar we loved, so we opened the one we wanted to hang in. And so far, it’s working,” Murphy said, laughing. Go hit happy hour and see what the fuss is about. Bring your Bad Brains tape. They’ll probably play it.

Check The Lost Well website for upcoming show listings.

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