XL Weekend Reviews

Devin the Dude, Jane Bond, Small Stars

Thursday, December 22, 2005

Hip-Hop

BACK ROOM OPENS ITS DOORS TO HIP-HOP

The Backroom is a great place to see hip-hop shows for the same reason it's a great place to see heavy metal shows. The building radiates the sort of attitude both genres relish. Check out the the iron pipes sectioning off a rubberized floor, the bar upon which shots of Jaegermeister are occasionally lined up as if it still were 1989, the smoky game room that's bigger than the actual club.

Perfect.

So it was nice to see fans turn out for Friday night's show by Devin the Dude, which featured a plethora of local openers who speak to an Austin hip-hop scene that's more vibrant than it's usually given credit for. Put together by J. Dean Productions, it was, as many multi-act hip-hop shows are, a somewhat rambling gig, with acts who blended into one another, thanks mostly to the sheer number of people on stage with each crew.

And the beats, canned for the most part and played back by CD, were largely undistinguished, the sort of Dirty South thump that seems a little by-the-numbers when taken over a four-hour show.

But here's the weird thing about Southern hip-hop: The majority of it is best considered in lumps rather than individual tracks, in a mood of a mix tape bumping out of a car rather than song-for-song. So MCs have to distinguish themselves with the tiniest of charismatic gestures. Kool Whip, a white guy covered in tattoos, bounced with raucous energy. Dok Holiday and his Set 4 Life clique radiated cool authority (and put on an even better set two nights later at the Chingo Bling show at Antone's). Dat Boy Mikee and Basswood Lane could be Austin's next big thing (with luck, 2006 will be the year Austin responds to Houston's challenge and steps its game up in general). And Drunken Flow might be my favorite crew name in quite some time. I look forward to exploring all of these artists' CDs, to sussing out moments that put them ahead of the pack. But it's mighty tough to hear that detail live.

Devin owned the night with his everyday-stoner vibe and laid-back flow. This is the difference between journeymen MCs and a guy who could be on the level of a Lil Flip, if not a Paul Wall or a Slim Thug, any day now. Devin's persona shines through every line — his stage presence is a tangible thing. "I'm so high I haven't landed yet," were the first words he rapped, and that tells you nearly everything you need to know about the guy. He's not just repping for Houston or Texas, he's repping for a point of view.

— Joe Gross

Lounge music

SMALL STARS SHINE AT CONTINENTAL

Can a lounge act be seriously hip?

Can Billy Crystal say "You look mah-velous!"?

Even if you're pouring on thick-as-syrup Vegas shtick and schmaltzing up the room with titles that sound awfully close to "Volare," if you're in the Small Stars, you're definitely in the hippest, cleverest "lounge" act to hit the Austin area in, oh, possibly ever. This shamefully talented collective of characters, fronted by vocalist/guitarist Guy Fantasy (Fastball's Miles Zuniga), had a Continental Club audience more or less rolling in the aisles and rocking on the dance floor during a Friday night set that spanned everything from the Doug Sahm Tex-Mex ditty "Nitty-Gritty" to a brilliant ska rave-up of "The Boys Are Back in Town." There were no small doses of originals, either, including the Kinks-meet-"Rocky Horror" rock-opera-ish confessional "True Hollywood Story" ("It's sad but true, daddy loved you mo-wo-wo-wo-re than me"); the tune that hit No. 1 in Corpus Christi, "Otra Vez"; a gently funky-reggae tune with a disco break that became "You Spin Me 'Round (Like a Record)" with Fantasy rolling each "r" till it spun out of control.

Saxophonist/vocalist Buddy Llamas (Fastball's Jeff Groves), who managed to look both ridiculous and cool with his pencil mustache and mariachi suit, delivered priceless expressions and gestures as "manager"/singer/carnival barker Vic Odin (get it?) belted out the vaudevillian "I Turn Music into Money." Fantasy spouted running commentaries of nihilistic sarcasm that segued perfectly into his equally sarcastic songs (many co-written with Groves). The only thing serious about the Small Stars is their musical chops, contributed by keyboard/trombone player Max Dolby (Matt Hubbard, a Willie Nelson sideman); drummer Brick Masterson (New Bohemians' John Bush); bassist Godfrey McCambridge (Lil Cap'n Travis' Jeff Johnston); guitarist Richard Steele (Landis Armstrong of McLemore Avenue and the El Orbits); and Odin (aka Nakia).

They may be Small Stars now, but with all that talent, maybe one day they'll hit . . . Vegas?

— Lynne Margolis

Singer-songwriter

LYRICS LOST IN THE TWO-STEP

The beautiful, but hard to understand Jane Bond performed last week at the Continental Club to an audience that grew quickly during her set. By the time she wrapped up the performance, her unpretentious old-timey music had everyone — from old cowboys to young hipsters who couldn't keep up with the two-stepping cowgirls — jamming and dancing.

The eclectic crowd reflected Bond's music. Although some people have called her derivative, that's just because other Texan female singer-songwriters have made it big playing blues, jazz or country. Bond does it all, adapts it and improves it. At the Continental, she sounded at times like a brawnier Bonnie Raitt or a Norah Jones with more personality.

Since her last album came out way back in 2004, fans were happy to hear mostly new material, ranging from a rocking cover of Nancy Sinatra's "Sorry 'Bout That," to Bob Dylan and her own music penned by herself and a short series of songs written with Nathan Hamilton, who produced her first album.

When her guitar suffered from technical difficulties, her band was ready to fill in with rollicking surf and rockabilly swats without really losing too much depth form the sound. Bond just turned on her charisma on for the audience. Unfortunately, the sweet and silly wordplay that shines on her albums was hard to make out, either because of equipment difficulties or just non-enunciation.

Speak up, Jane. We all want to hear what you have to say.

— Joey Seiler