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SXSW review: Surfer Blood
Back in November, Palm Beach popsters Surfer Blood played a dazzling (and likely booked far in advance) show at Beerland that just about everyone in attendance knew would be the last time they’d get to see the buzzed-about band in such a small setting. True to form, Saturday’s SXSW show at Mohawk was the fivesome’s 10th (at least) show of the festival, where the band’s name appeared on bills backed by hipster pillars like NPR, Urban Outfitters, Village Voice and Pitchfork.
So yes, Surfer Blood have arrived, looking fresh out of high school (drummer Tyler Schwarz had the only beer in sight) and either shockingly confident or completely unaware of the big stakes being placed on them. That’s for the better, since if anything infringes on this band and its ability to craft stunning power pop that sounds like it’s being projected high speed through a wind tunnel, man… that’d be a shame.
Live, the foursome (touring with an extra keyboard/percussionist) stretch out drum-tight tunes like show opener “Floating Vibes” and “Fast Jabroni,” with guitarist Tom Fekete stomping on a row of effects pedals and piling on feedback when John Paul Pitts (vocals/guitars) wasn’t dropping startlingly developed couplets on the packed crowd.
As is the case of any band touring behind its first album (Kanine Records’ “Astro Coast”) the set list was pretty easy to predict, ending with the knock-me-over perfection of the band’s career-making (to this point) single “Swim,” Pitts’ vocals soaring above the din with such enthusiasm and spirit you’d never guess he’s been singing it several times a day for a week.
There’s a fine but important difference between “happy to be there” and “happy where you are”; the first leading to go-for-broke carelessness and the second embodied by careful precision and professionalism to make sure there are still lots of better days ahead. Right now at this moment, Surfer Blood are in the latter camp, and that’s something we should all be thankful for.
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SXSW review: Death
For all the feel-good backstory of the Hackney brothers’ long-delayed success, there’s still the problem of their name - Death - since there aren’t many bands playing right now that are more full of life and joy. That feeling was unmistakable and contagious Saturday during the trio’s show at The Mohawk, playing the proto hard rock/punk they wrote (with deceased brother/guitarist David Hackney) almost 40 years ago and was rediscovered by the masses last year.
Smiles honestly never left the faces of Dannis Hackney (drums), Bobby Hackney and guitarist Bobby Duncan as the band powered through its short discography, most of it written before punk had even been given a name and the ink on the pages of rock’s rule book was still drying. That’s what’s most fascinating about Death, the trapped-in-amber feel of it all. “Keep On Knocking” merges boogie rock feel-good with the scrappy grit Rocket From the Tombs was crafting in Ohio right around the time Death was banging around the garages of Detroit, and “Politicians In My Eyes” was/is a brainy middle finger to the Vietnam-era (now Afghanistan) strife chafing at the populace.
One of the great questions lingering since Death was scraped from history’s dustbin was “What’s next?” since the songs the band trots out every night are approaching middle age and you can only go so long on nostalgia. Bobby Hackney addressed that issue (while also paying respect to his departed brother on what would have been his birthday), saying a new Death record made of rewritten demos from its early days is on its way soon.
While that’s still not technically new stuff (what will new-millenium Death sound like… hmmm?) it’s gratifying to know there are still more days ahead for the band, and that we’ll all get more chances to see the brothers +1 spreading their infectious love of music and life for a while more to come.
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SXSW video: Anita Tijoux
Chilean hip-hop musician Anita Tijoux talked to Austin360.com’s Deborah Sengupta Stith between South by Southwest gigs.
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SXSW scene report: Mohawk’s supporting cast
Since Saturday’s buzzy as hell lineup topped by Death and Surfer Blood carried the possibility of a long line even for badgeholders, yours truly embarked nice and early for The Mohawk and engaged in a SXSW rarity, seeing an entire bill from top to bottom. Reviews of Death and Surfer Blood are on their way, but until then here’s some thoughts on what was, thankfully, a pretty interesting and eclectic (if awfully chilly) night.
Show openers Fruit Bats said they were playing their 14th show of the four-day SXSW stretch, but who’s to say if that’s for real or just a bit of tomfoolery? By the last night of the fest bands are punch drunk and loopy. Either way, they kicked out a danceable brand of indie rock that was like Death Cab For Cutie with a drum machine underneath. I know that Postal Service should be the descriptor of choice for such a sound but unlike the gold-certified Gibbard/Tamborello pair up, Fruit Bats actually had a few ounces of testosterone going on. There, I finally said it. Postal Service are the eunuchs of indie rock. I feel better now.
Turbo Fruits get my discovery of the night honor, a one-time side project (and now main endeavor) of punk band Be Your Own Pet that’s a refreshing loose type of punk rock suggestive of what might have happened if Blink-182 spent their formative years listening to Ween and The Kinks instead of The Descendents. Singer Jonas Klein started out the set by shedding his jacket and asking the crowd, “Is everyone else as hot as I am?” in a preview of the wise guy sensibility he brought to freewheeling tunes like “Mama’s Mad Cos I Fried My Brain,” “Volcano” and “Colt 45.” Ending the night by scaling The Mohawk’s stage scaffolding and hanging upside down while abusing his guitar, Klein made sure his band’s last (and 16th?) show of the week was one to remember.
San Francisco’s Thee Oh Sees certainly have a distinct brand of garage rock going on, with male/female vocals that suggest The Kills with more chug and bottom end. Good and worth another look for sure, but not a lot memorable to share.
Funkateer Dam-Funk is like a throwback and a futurist in one. Atop a drum set and laptop/keyboard combo, the Los Angeleno alternated between regular vocals and the thickest Vocoder effect these ears have ever heard, urging the crowd to “keep… on… dan-cing!” for 40 minutes of butt-moving joy. Oh, and a keytar. Can’t ever forget the keytar.
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SXSW review: The Smith Westerns
Just when you thought the bands playing SXSW couldn’t get any younger than buzzy Surfer Blood, along comes Chicago-based garage pop outfit The Smith Westerns, who seem like they wouldn’t have been allowed inside the Scoot Inn Saturday night if they weren’t part of Pitchfork’s closing night showcase. Frontman Cullen Omori looked a bit like Wiley Wiggens in “Dazed and Confused,” with straight black hair covering his face as he sang. He was quite the comedian on stage, too, asking for more warmth in the monitor and saying things like, “we’re from Chicago, or (expletive)-cago, but don’t quote me on that. Ha!”
There was a smallish crowd on hand, which was better than nothing, considering a majority of the people were either inside or huddled around the fire pit in the corner (yes, there was a fire going at a SXSW showcase to keep people warm). The band was understandably a little loose when they started, but things picked up as the set progressed, with the Omori’s glammy vocals complementing Max Kakecek’s catchy guitar hooks. Part of the Smith Westerns’ appeal is their ability to walk a fine line between a sweeter pop sound and edgier material, and it felt like they really found their groove on “Be My Girl,” which unfortunately was also the end of the set.
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SXSW scene report: Saturday notes
- The Whip In scratched the outdoor portion of its SouthBySuds event Saturday because of the horrible weather, but inside, the store was a lovely refuge from the chill wind and the SXSW madness elsewhere.
Around dinnertime, Naga Valli was singing and playing the harmonium, accompanied on percussion by Oliver Rajamani. Her beautiful voice was wonderfully lulling on traditional Indian material, and she gave an original composition in English an interesting melodic twist by using Indian melismatic technique.
Patrons relaxed in the booths of the Parlour Cafe, milled around the front counter deciding what to order or sat at the bar chatting quietly. The barista made me a fabulous chai, foaming the soy milk so expertly that somebody at the next table asked “Is that a Guinness?”
At the Continental Club, by contrast, it was sheer madness. Since so many outdoor events had been canceled, or people just didn’t want to attend them, it seemed half the Friday population of South Congress was jammed into the Continental or trying to get in the back door well before the evening showcases.
Discretion being the better part of valor, I darted back out and went across the street to South by San Jose, where David Garza was undeterred by the wretched return of winter. He entertained a hardy group of bundled-up fans with high-energy material, including a country tune that schnookered people into line dancing, just so that he could throw a devilish Tejano number at them.
A couple of hotel workers walked through the edge of the crowd carrying firewood, a peculiar and sorry sight on the first day of spring.
Garza mocked a band that had canceled, saying “I think they had to blog or something. But we’re here to rock!” He proclaimed that he was going to do a Herman’s Hermits tune, no, it was by Kajagoogoo, but they’re too shy-shy.”
The trouble with having a hit is, you have to do it, and he gleefully careened into his own “Disco Ball World,” which prompted singer Amy Cook to jump on stage and wail in harmony.
- I am not sure how theologians will analyze this, but during SXSW, there was a schism between two downtown Austin denominations. I found this out in the restroom at the Omni Hotel, where I had repaired between sets at Central Presbyterian Church Saturday because concert-goers were not allowed to use whatever facilities the church surely has, but were instead supposed to use the port-a-potties on the sidewalk around the corner. Seriously. With a wind chill in the 30s. Seriously.
Of course this outrage was a topic of conversation in the restroom of refuge, and after I lamented the extreme hardness of the Presbyterian pews as well, the badge-wearer I was talking to said with a note of relief that she wasn’t going back. “We’re going to St. David’s now
for something else. My friend calls them the Good Church and the Bad Church.”
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SXSW review: Big Star-Alex Chilton tribute at Antone’s
Alex Chilton was everywhere at SXSW 2010, the fact that he died suddenly Wednesday notwithstanding: His passing was Topic A on the street, there was a panel about him and his peerless band, Big Star, Saturday at the Austin Convention Center and showcase bands made a point of playing Big Star out of venue PAs before they came on stage.
And he was most definitely at Antone’s Saturday night, in the form of every one of the musicians who turned out to pay tribute to him in a 12:30 a.m. slot that was supposed to be a Big Star showcase with the man himself. A few of those musicians went on to greater fame than Chilton would ever have in life, but there was no question — if ever there was — that those three albums the greatest power pop band ever produced in the early ’70s have been a well of inspiration for generations of players. Like the Velvet Underground, Big Star never sold a lot of albums, but that music radically redirected the course of countless lives.
And if Saturday night proved anything, it was that legacy and impact matter a lot more than money.
Original drummer Jody Stephens and Posies Jon Auer and Ken Stringfellow — both enthusiastic members of a reconstituted Big Star beginning in 1993 — anchored the affair, which was vastly more celebratory than weepy and much better organized than similar affairs — especially those planned in haste — which tend to be long on the best of intentions and short on precision. Somebody was definitely keeping the trains running on time backstage as, in the space of just short of 90 minutes, everybody from bassist Mike Mills to Chris Stamey, M. Ward, John Doe, Sondre Lerche, Chuck Prophet, Evan Dando and more came out to witness to the life-changing power of “#1 Record,” “Radio City,” “Third/Sister Lovers.” (Chilton’s later solo work, while admirable, never quite climbed as high.)
If you were wondering which pop bands of the ’80s Big Star influenced, there’s a short answer: All of them. Here’s a very truncated list: Without Big Star, you wouldn’t have the dB’s (Chilton and Stamey were actually in a band after Chilton was in Big Star and before Stamey was in the dB’s), no REM, no Teenage Fan Club, no Replacements, no college radio and, subsequently, no alt-rock explosion of the ’90s. People always say Big Star was, or should have been, the American Beatles but it’s high time to invert the equation: The Beatles should have been the British Big Star.
For instance, “Back of a Car,” which Stephens and his two whipper-snapper bandmates opened with Saturday. It’s all there: more hooks than a bait shop, a melody Lennon and McCartney would have cheerfully swiped, harmonies that scrape the sky and a crunchy guitar that gives the tune just enough dirt under its nails to not come off as precious. And if must be said that Stephens, Stringfellow and Auer completely nailed it right off the blocks and under difficult circumstances; it was apparent that being in Big Star was an honor and a labor of love for the two Posies, not some weekend warrior project. Auer seemed as shaken as anybody there, but the three of them are pros. They put their heads down and got through the gig.
Curt Kirkwood came out to play a Fender Strat on “Don’t Lie to Me” and “In the Steet” and there you have another side of the band’s personality. The former tune demonstrates the catharsis of raging at someone who has betrayed you, the latter about the joy of simply hanging out.
The most surprisingly choice on the set list was “I Am the Cosmos,” which Chris Bell released as a solo single in 1978, the same year he died in a car wreck. Stamey sang that one, serving up an appropriately ethereal guitar solo, then followed up with “When My Baby’s Beside Me” just to make sure things didn’t get too mystical.
The biggest surprise appearance was not the rumored Paul Westerberg — who admired Chilton so much he wrote a song about him — but original bassist Andy Hummel, who flew in from Luthuania (!) for the gig. Hummel joined the band for a few tunes throughout the set, including Way Out West,” which Stephens sang.
Mike Mills’ contribution was “Jesus Christ” from “Sister Lovers,” and it must be said he looked like he was having such a good time he forgot he was at a wake.
John Doe offered a reverential take on “I’m in Love with a Girl.” That song and “13,” which was also offered up Saturday night, are some of the purest expressions of longing ever written in the pop form. If you’ve ever longed for someone so badly you thought your heart might explode, there’s no way you can’t relate to those songs.
The Watson Twins, Susan Cowsill and Hummel came out for the expected closer, “September Gurls,” which features a guitar sound that launched a thousand bands. A few people were yelling for one more, but there’s nothing, nothing that can follow that.
There was precious little speechifying — no time for that — although a statement by Chilton’s widow, Laura, was read, and Stephens made brief statements at the beginning and end. “You’ve wrapped your arms around us,” he said at the end, “and we appreciate it.”
In Westerberg’s “Alex Chilton,” he tries to improve on reality, suggesting that in an alternate universe Chilton is such a big deal children by the millions are screaming for their icon. It should have been so, and on Saturday it felt like that still might come to pass.
Other bands on the bill Saturday had the unenviable task of being overshadowed by a Big Star in absentia. Dwight Twilley offered vintage (and kind of dated) heartland roots rock, exuberant pop trio Junior the Ghost buzzed through a busy set that recalled Ben Folds and They Might Be Giants — leading my boss to suggest the band might well be called “They Might Be Ben Folds” — and St. Deluxe shook the walls with a sound that made you forget about My Bloody Valentine.
But Saturday night was all about the man who wasn’t there, a cult hero, a myth and now a ghost. Long may he reign.
Don’t forget Andy Hummel came in from Lithuania for the gig.
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SXSW review: Susan Cowsill, Watson Twins, Matt Morris, Ian McLagan
- Singer-songwriter Susan Cowsill drew the precarious 8 p.m. slot Saturday at one of the harder-to-find venues, Creekside at Hilton Garden Inn, but she still just about filled the room, and the crowd was quieter and more attentive than at any other show I saw during SXSW.
With her incandescent voice and dark but irrepressible sense of humor, the longtime New Orleanian is always a captivating performer, and she now, finally, has a new album to preview.
“Lighthouse” is the former Continental Drifter’s first release since her solo debut, “Just Believe It,” which came out in the U.S. in 2005, right after Hurricane Katrina.
“Katrina got more press,” Cowsill noted dryly. She explained that it had then taken a good while to get the writing and performing parts of her life together again. “We were having a hard time just forming full sentences for a couple years there.”
“Lighthouse” is haunted by loss, which manifests itself in different ways. The summery, floating chorus of her new song “Dragon Flys” disguised its underlying melancholy. “River of Love” was written by Cowsill’s older brother Barry, who died mysteriously in the wake of Katrina, and although its theme of separation and longed-for reunion now seems sadly prescient, her band’s driving delivery and the beautiful four-part vocal harmonies emphasized the song’s hopeful chorus.
In the ballad “Lighthouse,” on the other hand, Cowsill sang of hope, but her melody was suffused with an acknowledgment of profound sorrow, underlined by the simple, plaintive piano-violin arrangement. Apparently more than one person in the audience started
tearing up, because afterward Cowsill shook her head, laughed reassuringly and said “Everything’s OK now! I’m going to prove it with the next song.” Which was “The Rain, the Park and Other Things,” and its innocent chorus of “happy, happy, happy!” sounded just as effervescent as when it was a hit for her family pop band, the Cowsills, in the 1960s.
Maybe it was the resilience in “Lighthouse,” even more than the sadness, that made people cry.
After Cowsill’s casually cathartic performance, the Watson Twins’ 9 p.m. show at Central Presbyterian Church seemed rather callow and inconsequential. Their sister harmonies were very pretty, and they had a good band, especially the keyboardist, who added some muscle to the R&B leanings they explore on their second full-length album, “Talking To You Talking To Me.”
Chandra and Leigh Watson started out as backing vocalists for Rilo Kiley and others, and they still somehow don’t seem to exist entirely in the foreground, although they were comfortable enough with the audience. They joked about the implications of the stained-glass
window they were facing as they introduced the new song “Devil in You,” which was the cleverest of their numbers, and yet seemed more like a genre exercise than an actual song.
- Matt Morris, in the 10 p.m. slot at the church, sounded utterly at home in the setting, reveling in the way his powerful, reedy tenor soared around in the space. He opened with an a cappella incantation that seemed spontaneous, singing “We are here on holy ground, as all
ground is holy ground. Let us open our hearts and let the music in.”
An industry veteran, Morris has co-written hits with Christina Aguilera, his former Mickey Mouse Club castmate, and his new “When Everything Breaks Open” was produced by another MMC alumnus, Justin Timberlake, along with Austinite Charlie Sexton. The songs displayed
a lot of craftsmanship, and Morris’ emotive R&B vocals invested them with oodles of melodrama, on top of what was already there in his lyrics, and what was supplied by his extremely polished and proficient five-piece rock band.
“Bloodline” lamented the plight of an abandoned teen mother, and in the last verse the narrator was revealed as none other than the sinner who caused her plight. “Don’t You Dare” had some interesting twists in the melody and the lyrics, and Morris cleverly worked a little of the Beatles’ “Can’t Buy Me Love” into his reggae-light number “Love.” “Eternity” seemed to last nearly that long, with so many biblical references that I got lost somewhere around Corinthians, or maybe it was Timothy.
I suppose it is fairly daring to put so much popcraft in the service of a long spiritual discourse, although I can’t remember what the message was. I think something about love. At any rate, the audience showed Morris plenty of love with a standing ovation at the end of his set. He’s likely to be a big success, with such strong vocal technique and enough hitmaking savvy to get an audience to sit still, on hard pews, yet, for a song that practically required a concordance.
- Singer-songwriter-consummate keyboardist Ian McLagan is definitely more at home in a pub than a church, and he found the acoustics at Central Presbyterian frustrating, as they swallowed most of Scrappy Jud Newcomb’s guitar parts and badly muddied the bass and drums.
Fortunately, McLagan’s vocals came through reasonably well, and although there was no Hammond B-3 on hand, his electric piano was pretty clear, and his playing was especially crisp and energetic.
Despite severe sound challenges, he and his Bump Band carried the day with sheer exuberance on “Little Troublemaker,” “Little Girl,” “Glad and Sorry” and Little Walter’s “Temperature.”
The ballad “Never Say Never,” off his last album, sounded so pretty, I started thinking afterward how many artists would have covered it by now, if it had been released on a Small Faces album back in the day. (I could definitely hear Isaac Hayes, Irma Thomas, Boz
Scaggs …) Although it really deserved a more suitable sonic setting, McLagan’s running litany of complaints was so funny, it was worth enduring the auditory defects. He chafed at the written directive he’d received not to swear, which he said was the hardest thing ever #8212; “That, and no drinks!” At one point, he sighed over the pitcher of margaritas waiting for him at home, and he told his fans “I hope you’ve all had a drink.”
Fortunately, there had been no prohibition on laughter, because a lot of us outright guffawed when McLagan suddenly pointed at the baptismal font and said “Don’t forget the tip jar.”
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SXSW review: Carrie Rodriguez
It never fails. Every year, like clockwork, some highly-regarded songwriter draws a late-night set on the last night of the SXSW music festival in an unsuitable venue and finds himself or herself contending with a few chowderheads who think Prohibition is coming back on the next train.
This year, one of the winners of that unhappy lottery was former homegirl Carrie Rodriguez, who was back in town to tout her new album of lovingly chosen cover songs, “Love and Circumstance,” with a midnight showcase on Saturday at the Amsterdam Cafe.
Make no mistake, I’m certain the Amsterdam Cafe is a fine establishment the other 51 weeks of the year. But someone rigged the temporary stage only about a foot off the ground, which meant that almost no one could see the petite Rodriguez and positioned the speakers at head height, which ensured that the sound broke up before it traveled more than a few feet.
Ah, well. If Rodriguez was frustrated at the production limitations or the folks who were throwing down cocktails with one hand and texting with the other while carrying on shouted conversations, she gave no indication.
And besides, she had volume on her side. She kicked off her set with a bristling, almost martial Celtic-flavored take on Buddy and Julie Miller’s “Wide River To Cross,” from the new album. A siren-like slide guitar punctuated “50’s French Movie” from her first solo album of a couple of years back and her own quicksilver fiddle lit the spark under “Never Gonna Be Your Bride,” one of those breakneck breakdowns when everyone seemingly hits everything they can put their hands on.
Ben Kyle, of the Minneapolis band Romantica, joined her onstage for a duet of Merle Haggard’s “Today I Started Loving You Again” (a role essayed by Buddy Miller on the album version). “I Made A Lover’s Prayer,” a Gillian Welch cover, featured a rubbery guitar line and an ear-grabbing groove.
Wisely, given the circumstances, she didn’t essay the quieter material on the new album, like her take on Townes Van Zandt’s “Rex’s Blues.” More’s the pity, but lucky for us locals, Rodriguez returns to her old hometown on a regular basis. Go see her at the Cactus Cafe and then go have an after-show nightcap at the Amsterdam. Everyone goes home happy.
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SXSW review: She and Him
Before one says anything about She and Him’s performance at Auditorium Shores Saturday night, one must say this: M. Ward, Zooey Deschanel and their bandmates all deserve a medal for the grand accomplishment of even showing up.
Plagued by sound problems that would persist throughout the show, Deschanel and Ward didn’t even take to the stage until 9 p.m., 20 minutes after their scheduled start time. The crowd was appreciably large but far smaller than you’d expect for the headliners at the traditionally popular Auditorium Shores stage — which might have had a thing to do with the biting, blistering cold and substantial gusting winds that buffeted the audience. Many were clad in blankets and Snuggies and couples huddled together out of necessity and not just affection.
Those circumstances are less than desirable, and it would have been hard to blame Deschanel and Ward for simply walking away or canceling. And although their forty-five minute performance wasn’t exactly one for the books, it went off about as well it could.
Sound difficulties started early, with Deschanel unable to get reverb on her vocals for a somewhat faltering, disengaged take on “Black Hole,” a problem that continued on a slightly more passionate version of “That Won’t Stop Me Crying.” Deschanel and Ward and their backing band loosened up and grew stronger as the set went on — save for an undercooked take on “Volume Two” single “In The Sun.”
Ultimately, the problem wasn’t with She and Him — given the temperature and wind, so blasting you could hear it through the microphones, it’s a miracle Ward could play the guitar at all. Weather and technical issues conspired to drag down the show, but regardless of who or what natural phenomenon was responsible, you’d be hard-pressed to argue that braving the elements was worth it — even for a chance to hear a peppy version of “Why Do You Let Me Stay Here?” live.
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SXSW review: Kings Go Forth at Galaxy Room Backyard
Remember when Indiana Jones was descending into the forbidden tomb and sees the floor crawling? “Snakes,” he moans. “Why did it have to be snakes?”
I knew just how he felt as I prepared to hoof it across downtown to see the Kings Go Forth at the tent-covered Galaxy Room Backyard: “An outdoor venue…why did it have to be an outdoor venue?”
Fortunately, the adult-strength dose of hot-buttered soul, R&B and funk that the 10-piece band from Milwaukee served up was an ideal remedy for the blue norther that dropped temperatures 40 degrees overnight. To the Wisconsin band members, it probably seemed like a day at the beach.
The band, which featured horns, keyboards, congas and three vocalists, including frontman Black Wolf, went from zero to 60 faster than a runaway Toyota. If they had any ballads, they kept them to themselves, instead serving up a handful of tracks drawn largely from their forthcoming album, “The Outsiders Are Back.”
The instrumental fanfare that brought the vocalists on morphed into the funk-flavored “Get A Feeling.” Shades of Motown, Stax-Volt Memphis-simmered soul, New Orleans horn and percussion grooves and gritty Southern R&B informed tunes like “Paradise Lost,” “You’re the One” and “One Day.” Another track, “I Don’t Love You No More,” sounded like it was lifted from the James Brown playbook, with its fuzz-laden guitars and tight groove.
Black Wolf’s playful falsetto, with its echoes of Curtis Mayfield and Aaron Neville, made an arresting counterpoint to the tongue-in-groove lockstep arrangements and crisp musicianship. Fellow vocalist Don Fernandez also had a couple of impressive solo turns and bassist/band leader Andy Noble kept the bottom locked down.
With a healthy neo-soul scene having arisen in Austin in the past year or two, it’s easy to see how Kings Go Forth could easily become valued additions to the local scene. Now if they’ll just play indoors next time …
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SXSW scene report: Austin Music Awards/Texas Sheiks
The Texas Sheiks play a tribute to Stephen Bruton.
Photos: Scenes from the Austin Music Awards
Austin Music Hall
7:55 p.m. Saturday
The annual Austin Music Awards (aka, the Bob Schneider Canonization Ceremony — he’s up for archbishop this year, I think) kicked off on a new night, but at the same don’t-be-late 7:55 p.m. start time.
The first act, the all-star acoustic music ensemble known as Texas Sheiks, had a special poignance for the local music fans in attendance. The Sheiks represented one of the final projects (the other was the soundtrack to the film “Crazy Heart”) to bear the imprint of singer/songwriter/guitarist/producer Stephen Bruton, who died after a long siege of cancer last year.
The Sheiks, helmed by acoustic music veteran Geoff Muldaur, and starring local luminaries like pianist Johnny Nicholas, steel player Cindy Cashdollar, bassist Bruce Hughes, Muldaur’s mentor Jim Kweskin and others, was conceived of as a way for Bruton to stay in touch with his musical lifeline and to distract him from the rigors of radiation and chemo. Sadly, Bruton died before either the Sheiks’ record or the “Crazy Heart” soundtrack saw the light of day.
“What started being a diversion ended up being a tribute,” said emcee Andy Langer.
“We didn’t know we were making a record,” recalled Muldaur from the stage. “We were just getting together to have some fun.”
And so they did on Saturday, launching into a jazzy vintage lament, “The World Is Going Crazy,” with Muldaur on vocals and featuring a hot dobro solo from Cindy Cashdollar. A rousing jump-blues take on “All By Myself,” featuring Johnny Nicholas on vocals and guest pianist Floyd Domino followed.
By way of introducing jug band music godfather Jim Kweskin (who also guested on the album), Muldaur said, “When he was 19 years old, Stephen and a friend left Fort Worth and drove to the Newport Folk Festival just to see this guy.” Kweskin is getting on up there, but his nimble guitar playing and easy vocals belie his years, as he demonstrated on the playfully ribald Bob Wills song, “Fan It.”
After bassist Bruce Hughes essayed one number (whose title I didn’t catch), the group wrapped up their brief set with a swinging blues/gospel-flavored Bruton original, one which the Sheiks did not feature on their record. “Walk By Faith” probably came as close to being Bruton’s personal mantra as anything else he ever read or sang: “You got to walk by faith and not by sight.”
Wherever he’s walking now, Bruton is taking note of the accolades for “Crazy Heart” and the outpouring of affection from fans, friends and peers and he is, make no mistake about it, eating it up with a spoon.
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SXSW scene report: The line at Antone’s for Big Star Tribute already down the block
At 7:05 p.m., the line was already down the block (Lavaca) at Antone’s, presumably people lining up for the Big Star - Alex Chilton tribute, scheduled to being at 12:30 a.m. The show is badges only.
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SXSW video: Rachael Ray’s Feedback Party
Austin American-Statesman writer Addie Broyles spoke to Rachael Ray at her Feedback Party, where Bob Schneider, Andrew WK, She & Him and others performed on Saturday.
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Leon Russell canceled tonight
Due to the weather, Leon Russell’s show at Threadgill’s tonight has been scratched. Promoters are looking for a new date to reschedule.
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SXSW panel: ‘I Never Travel Far Without a Little Big Star’
12:30 p.m. Saturday
Panelists: Jody Stephens, Big Star/Ardent Music LLC; Andy Hummel, Big Star; Ken Stringellow, Big Star (mach 2); John Auer, Big Star (mach 2); Chris Stamey, Modern Recording; Tommy Keene; moderator Bob Mehr, Memphis Commercial-Appeal; John Fry, Ardent Studios.
Originally intended to discuss the legacy of Big Star, in light of the 2009 box set Keep Your Eye On The Sky, the panel was nearly cancelled in the wake of frontman Alex Chilton’s death on Wednesday, as was Saturday night’s scheduled Big Star concert. However, drummer Jody Stephens decided to forge ahead in tribute to his late bandmate, and the panel carried on with the addition of Ardent Studios founder
John Fry, participating via Skype.
Chilton was never scheduled to appear at the panel, looking back on past glories not being anything he ever willingly indulged in. He was, however, well aware of the long, strange trajectory by which Big Star went from being a music-business casualty to an indie rock icon.
At a latterday Big Star show, after Chilton and Stephens teamed with the Posies’ Ken Stringfellow and Jon Auer to reconstitute the band, Fry recalled that Chilton told the crowd that they were about to play some new songs: “If you don’t like ‘em now, don’t worry. You’ll love ‘em in 30 years.”
The 90-minute session was filled with such Alex anecdotes, along with some discussion of his upbringing in a musical and artistic household and a rough outline of his eccentric career path. Fry shared his memory of first meeting a teenage Chilton when he was sitting around waiting to lay vocals on top of Box Tops rhythm tracks. He recalled Chilton’s growing frustration with recording other people’s material in that band as his own songwriting talents developed, while Stephens and original Big Star bassist Andy Hummel reminisced about when they and Chris Bell enlisted Chilton in their group, Ice Water, which mostly played covers at frat parties and department-store openings.
With Fry, they talked about the recording of Big Star’s first album, when everyone was working together enthusiastically toward a common objective and Bell and Chilton were at the peak of their creative collaboration.
“They were both alpha guys, and their talents were along similar lines, but they worked together very seamlessly,” Hummel said.
Fry explained how the downward spiral of Stax Records and the Memphis music scene affected the band, while Chris Stamey made what he called a “revisionist” plea for more careful consideration of the superb musical choices and performances on the third and final Big Star album, recorded after Bell had left the group. He recalled how his dBs bandmate Peter Holsapple used to make Big Star a litmus test for
girlfriends, and once ordered a young lady from his house for showing an utter lack of appreciation. Especially fascinating was Stamey’s account of how Chilton came up to New York to play a Valentine’s Day show in 1977, slept over on a cot in the tiny room Stamey rented with his girlfriend — “and just stayed,” becoming a mentor for Stamey and for a while participating in the fertile scene at CBGBs and Max’s
Kansas City.
The panel spent a fair amount of time elaborating on Chilton’s image as mercurial and curmudgeonly. Fry said over all the years of their friendship, he always enjoyed a cordial relationship with Chilton. Stringfellow recalled: “He let you figure him out. He sort of kept his cool, he didn’t explain himself, but he was very consistent.”
Stamey said Chilton just really didn’t have it in him to maintain the fictions that govern many social relationships, but you could always count on him to be honest — although he did have a smalll set of favorite sentences to salve the feelings of bandmates after a performance didn’t go well, two of them being “It couldn’t have been better” and “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
In his sorrow this past week, Stamey said, he’d been trying to think of funny things, and one was perhaps the best and most telling anecdote of the panel. He and Chilton had had a falling out for a while, and then Stamey finally spoke to him by phone in New Orleans, where Chilton lived for the last decades of his life. Chilton had a
job at the time washing dishes, and told Stamey how he had been explaining his theory of the world to a co-worker, who told him “Yeah, Alex. You’re right and the whole world is wrong.”
“You know, Chris,” Chilton said. “I really think he was onto something.”
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SXSW video: Saturday afternoon scene report
Matthew Odam with Austin360.com details South by Southwest happenings on Saturday, while Sydney Wayser of Brooklyn, N.Y., plays Dominican Joe’s.
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In good: Company rides down to SXSW with Band of Horses
One day you’re asking one of your musical heroes if he wants cream with his coffee; six months later you’re asking him if he’s seen your wah pedal lying around. That’s the shorthand version of the story of Brian Hannon, frontman for the band Company, and how he ended up playing at the Central Presbyterian Church with Band of Horses on the Friday night of SXSW.
Following one Company’s shows at a club in Charleston, South Carolina, Hannon, wearing a Band of Horses t-shirt, was approached by David Bridwell, father of Band of Horses frontman Ben Bridwell. Hannon happily gave a Company CD to the father of the bearded rock star who had become a regular at the restaurant where Hannon worked as a waiter.
Soon after his introduction to the elder Bridwell, the baby-faced (despite the eager beard) singer approached his musical hero at the restaurant and finally worked up the nerve to introduce himself. Bridwell remembered hearing Company from his father and shortly thereafter asked Co. to play a local gig with Band of Horses in December.
“I was just a guy at a restaurant, but he’s still nice enough to talk to me like a normal person,” Hannon said of Bridwell’s kindness and generosity.
The show in December led the big brother Band of Horses to invite Company (whose psych-tinged rock should bring the youngsters some more attention as their playing matures) out West to play two shows in Denver before coming down to Austin for SXSW.
While extremely grateful for the opportunity his young band has been afforded by one of the country’s most critically acclaimed bands, Hannon admits that he hopes the whirlwind of the past six months is only the beginning for him and his friends in Company.
“It’s great. I hope it continues,” Hannon said.
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Todd P’s MtyMx festival kicks off in Monterrey, Mexico today
The morning after the South by Southwest Music Festival concluded last year, famed New York-based concert promoter Todd Patrick — who had just thrown his fourth series of free outdoor shows at East Side venue Ms. Bea’s — packed up his bags and ventured with some friends down to Monterrey, Mexico. There, they ate tacos, relaxed and savored the city’s low-key charm. That day, Patrick, concerned that his increasingly high-profile SXSW shindig may come under fire from fest organizers, had the idea to pack up his party and move it south of the border.
That idea — and several long months of working logistics in his New York apartment — culminates today, as Patrick’s MtyMx kicks off in Monterrey. More than 50 bands — including both SXSW bands making the trip south and Mexican bands — will play across two stages from today to Monday, March 22 at an abandoned drive-in carved into a hillside. The site boasts camping and a visual arts display.
Despite the overlap of dates and artists — SXSW artists including Health, DD/MM/YYYY, Liars, Neon Indian, Andrew WK and many others are playing the festival — Patrick insists his festival isn’t intended to be adversarial to SXSW.
“Ideally they wouldn’t overlap at all — but there are people who live there who wouldn’t be happy with it starting on Sunday and running until midweek, and you have to respect that. It’s never been about trying to steal South by Southwest’s thunder,” said Patrick a few days out from MtyMx. “I don’t care about that. It’s about taking advantage of a situation, about taking advantage of what’s in front of you.”
“What’s in front” of Patrick is a wealth of touring bands congregated hours from Austin who face the difficult prospect of booking post-SXSW dates in nearby cities against a horde of competitors. MtyMx offers bands leaving Austin the chance to play better-attended shows against less competition than they might face in other cities in Texas, Oklahoma or New Mexico. That’s how he pitched it to more than 400 bands, with over 200 expressing interest. Patrick said the festival was also an attempt to correct misconceptions about the safety of Mexico and to present the world with images of Mexico’s burgeoning indie rock scene. He said the festival is being thrown largely for Mexican indie fans, who often have to cross the border to see shows — a difficult prospect.
“We have this vision that Mexico has no government and is riddled with crime and has no public health system, and all of these things are either offensive caricature or just out of control sensationalism in the media,” said Patrick. “I’m hoping that a lot of photos get taken, videos get shot, and in doing that we paint the picture of a country that’s not the stereotype. You look at the photos and you’ll see a thousand hip, well-dressed, well-educated brown faces. And that will paint a different, more accurate picture of Mexico.”
One among Mexico’s indie rock community is promoter Pablo Martinez , who threw a similar festival that also poached SXSW talent, Festival NRML, Saturday March 13 in Monterrey. He started the festival to give Mexican indie rock fans the chance to see bands that are often out of reach.
“We grew up seeing MTV and all these American bands, and usually they don’t come play to Monterrey, we have to go see them in San Antonio or Houston or Austin,” said Martinez. “So one of the objectives of the festival was to open this root of touring bands south of the border.”
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SXSW scene report: Yard Dog party
It’s everybody’s favorite old-school SXSW event: Randy opens up his Yard Dog Gallery on S. Congress Ave., bands play in the lot out back and people wander down the alley in search of a cold beer and some free music.
The crowd seemed to be smaller than normal Saturday afternoon, no doubt because of the weather, which didn’t keep one joker (surely a local) from coming out in short shorts and sandals.
“It’s good to be back in Anchorage for North By Northwest,” Coal Porters vocalist-mandolinist told the crowd that was trying to outsmart a chilly wind that went through you no matter where you stood. “I told the band to pack shorts — it’s hot in Texas.”
A genuinely funny (guitarist Neil Robert Herd is actually a comedian of some renown in the U.K.) and irreverent bluegrass band, the Coal Porters got serious long enough to do the weepy “A Soft Place to Fall,” written by Allison Moorer, also known as Shelby Lynne’s little sister. By set’s end the crowd seemed in an agreeable mood, and the $2 pints of Dogfish Head beer no doubt helped.
Franklin said the weather hadn’t caused him any problems except “it’s making me cold. But everything’s on schedule. And we haven’t had bad weather for this in years. But we’ve been doing this 15 years and I don’t ever remember it being this cold.”
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Where to go tonight after last call, y’all
Vice Magazine is taking over the vacant Starr Building at Sixth and Colorado Streets tonight at midnight for a party that should run until 5 a.m. Free cocktails and music from:
Les Savy Fey
Cheeseburger
Happy Birthday
Davilla 666
DJ sets from Mr. Jonathan Toubin
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Parry - really great synopsis of the panel! Thanks for the write up!
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Awww, please… I did the run out to the Port-O-Lets last year, I do not blame the Church… I wouldn’t want ANYONE who looks like they might even think about going to Emo’s to use my sparkly white bathroom!
Parry… Are
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