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Friday, March 14, 2008
Scene: King Britt and Cool Kids
I was heading to Emo’s to check out the Cool Kids when I decided to pop by King Britt’s party Friday night at the Beauty Bar. Britt himself was working the wheels in the front room, throwing down a chunky mix of ’90s hip-hop, ’70s funk and assorted soulful dance gems.
The dance floor was less than packed but the vibe was nice and there was a crazy white cat doing what looked awfully like a new school version of the Charleston to a “Flashlight” remix. I got distracted. By the time I made it to Emo’s (at 11 p.m. sharp for the Cool Kids’ set) long lines stretched out the door with a 15-minute wait even for badgeholders.
Apparently the Cool Kids, who allegedly killed a set at a side party earlier in the day, are cool indeed. Also, there’s a lot of hype behind Chicago MC Kid Sister who was also on the bill. I retreated back to the Beauty Bar where the dance floor was starting to fill out and the Philly soul was bumping hard.
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Video: DJ Rekha
DJ Rekha from NYC dropped Bhangra, hip-hop and dance music at Club 115 last night.
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Review: Los Amigos Invisibles
Sometimes the best SXSW shows are the ones you’re not looking for. Last-minute adds and side shows crop up and sometimes trump your scheduled plans. Consequently when I found out that Los Amigos Invisibles, a disco funk outfit from Caracas, Venuzuela was playing the free border media sessions party Friday at the Mexican American Cultural Arts Center (and nowhere on the official SXSW roster), I hightailed it over.
First off, iIve been wanting to see the ensemble ever since my little garage band did a clunky cover of their international dance hit “Mas Sexy” back in ‘98. Secondly, the center is very possibly my new favorite party venue in the city. For a little context, this site used to be a warehouse and now it’s a beautiful architectural achievement containing multiple gallery spaces, classrooms and both an indoor auditorium and a white plaza overlooking Lady Bird Lake.
The band was set up outside and, as they threw down a ridiculous mix of rhythmic funk, ’70s grooves and assorted Latin sounds, colorful starburst projections pinwheeled across the gracefully arched building ,occasionally accented by bursts of strobe. Meanwhile, the sizable crowd gave themselves over completely to the irresistible rhythms and danced and danced. I was fully taken.
Am I gushing? Perhaps. This was by far the highlight of my SXSW experience thus far.
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Scene: John Croslin back at the Parish
Remember back in the day (circa 1998 and earlier) when you could walk up to a SXSW venue and pay $10 to $20 for admission? It was often the best plan of attack if you only wanted to see one - and only one - band during the entire conference.
Instead of trying you with a laundry list about why Austin feels like Eden after “The Fall,” here’s just one story from the city Friday night that can be filed under: “Isn’t there any justice in the world?”
The Reivers, Austin’s best indie rock band during the 1980s, have no showcase at this year’s SXSW. Yet they sold out the Parish two nights last month for a reunion. Back at the Parish on Friday for a Merge Records showcase, Reivers frontman John Croslin was unable to pay a cover, like in the old days, to get his wife into the club.
If you split Austin’s cultural timeline into P.C. (pre-highrise condos) and A.C. (after highrise condos), Croslin’s door jam-up would fall into the latter.
(Did we mention that we miss many aspects from when SXSW was a growing adolescent? Including inexpensive cover charges for all people.)
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Review - Harvey Milk
Harvey Milk (the band not the man) formed in Athens, Ga., in the early 1990s, when Michael Stipe was buying property to keep it from being torn down and the gentle, super-stoned Elephant 6 collective was putting on shows around there. According to myth, almost nobody liked them.
In the last 10 or so years, everything the Harvey Milk does well (noise rock and ZZ Top riffs slowed to a crawl, more or less) has become very popular with a certain brand of music dork. Hence, a spate of reissues over the past two years and the dork-heavy attendance at their admittedly outstanding set Friday night at Spiro’s as part of the WFMU showcase.
It’s amazingly hard to make very, very slow-moving heavy metal catchy. Most really slow metal bands don’t bother. Harvey Milk does bother and the results are utterly head smashing. Long a capella passages give way to elephantine riffs, the sound of brontosauri moving through tar as a planet-busting comet soars ever closer to Earth. Tempos occasionally break into a gallop as classical-music samples flicker in and out of the music and guitarists trade solos. Absurdly powerful stuff; no wonder every T-shirt size below XL sold out.
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Scenes west and east — Torche rules
Boy howdy, it’s hot out. But you knew that.
Hit the Fader Fort for the first time around 1 p.m Friday. That whole place would be much funnier if everyone in line was there to buy pants. But Andy Warhol-branded jeans were going for more than $100, as were vintage jackets.
Some atrocity from Denmark called the Fashion was playing. This is why kids listen to hip-hop. Oy, I have no idea how all these hipsters are gonna survive in tight jeans and hoodies. It was 95 degrees, people. These are clothes that say, “I’m going to pass out and end up at Brackenridge hospital.”
Biked east over to the Longbranch Inn afterward. Felt fortunate to be alive and weirdly proud of myself — maybe I’m not quite as hideously out of shape as I thought.
Monotonix were blowing minds over at the Kenny Dorham’s Backyard area. Three Israeli gents who looked to be in their mid-40s — guitar, voice , drums — pounding out dangerously asymmetrical noise rock. The singer was stripped to the waist and soaked in sweat, long curly black hair and the week’s most non-ironic mustache made him a hypnotic figure, a totem, if you will, of middle-aged Israeli rock power. He rolled in the dirt, moved each individual drum 10 feet up the hill and looked vaguely like a caged animal the entire time. The thickness of his accent (and mustache) was life affirming.
The SXSW award for best band I heard but could not see goes to Torche. Even standing on a bench, they were tough to make out, such was the lowness of the Longbranch stage and the size of the crowd squished in there.
Torche’s pile-driving, monolithic metal sounded less like a band than a large turbine warming up. The band was the bulldozer; we were merely the mice who realize the end is really, really nigh. Giant chord changes stretched over four and five minutes, the guitar surreal and thick. When the drummer hits so hard that he propels himself out of the chair now and then like a meerkat popping up on his hind legs, all is right with the world. (Also, a Torche soundtrack to “Meerkat Manor” would totally rule.)
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SXSW scene: Want to get into Vampire Weekend showcase?
You better have a wristband or a badge. At 7:20 p.m., the line at Antone’s, where the buzz band is scheduled to play at 11 p.m., was about a third of the way down Lavaca Street.
And they’re already saying “badges and wristbands only.” If you get in, don’t leave.
Bear in Heaven, Basia Bulat and Foreign Born are scheduled to play before VW. DeVotchKa and the Constantines follow.
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SXSW Review: Bloodshot Records and New Bohemia parties
Bloodshot Records’ Yard Dog party, now a hallowed SXSW tradition, sometimes offered people-watching more compelling than the bands in the middle of Friday afternoon. While the Deadstring Brothers played familiar Stones-y rock distinguished mostly by a particularly good drummer and a shrill female vocalist, and ex-Screaming Trees drummer Mark Pickerel and His Praying Hands left no particular impression, the beer line snaking way down the alley was a great source of entertainment.
A middle-aged guy with short, sturdy legs (definitely not our lean-limbed Leslie) sported a Harley tank top and a short, flippy skirt with a loud starfish print and a raggedy hem that fluttered in the breeze. People with half-full cups of Lone Star beer got right back in line, so as never to run out. One guy who didn’t exactly look like a fashion maven announced with great authority to his female companion “No big fishnet tights before 7 p.m.” After spotting a woman wearing footless black fishnets with red gym shorts, I had to agree with him.
I wandered out to Congress Avenue and down the block trying to find a quieter spot to make a phone call, and heard some propulsive, keyboard-accented rock emanating from behind the vintage store New Bohemia. Forgetting the phone call, I drifted over just in time to see three guys banging melodically on the drum kit while the lead singer urgently crooned “oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, no.” I had managed to catch the very end of a set by Los Angeles-based the Deadly Syndrome. When I asked the band’s Jesse Hoy where else they were playing, he checked a PDA and gave me a number of options, including the Vinyl magazine party and a party at, of all places, the Elks’ Club. The best thing, he said, was that they get to be honorary Elks for three days, and he pulled the membership card out of his wallet to show me.
There was hardly anyone at New Bohemia’s backyard party, which was a little sad, but on the other hand, there were some good bargains on the sale racks — and the portapotties were pristine. I headed back over a bit later, and ended up beguiled by an ethereal yet driving instrumental keyboard-drums-electronica duo, which turned out to be Austin’s Lymbyc Systym. There were still only a few people around, but keyboardist Jared Bell invited everyone to come stand in the shade in the tent behind the band, which made it seem like a command performance instead of an underattended one. By the end of the set, quite a few more curious people had been lured into the yard.
I made sure to get back to Yard Dog in time for Justin Townes Earle’s 4:15 p.m. set. One of Steve’s kids, his debut, “The Good Life,” is due March 25. He and his fine band — keyboard, mandolin, fiddle and bass — played old-school honky-tonk country, and looked the part in their dark suits and western shirts. Earle himself could have been a casting director’s dream of a ‘50s country & western singer — tall and lanky, with penetrating blue eyes looking out from under the brim of his straw cowboy hat.
“Are there enough pearl snaps up here for everybody?” Earle joked, after generating smiles throughout the crowd with the lively, tuneful “What Do You Do When You’re Lonesome.”
“It sure is hot — but I wouldn’t let them get out of wearing the suits,” Earle said of his band, before launching into the title track of the new album. There was only time for a few songs, and none for his folkier material, but Earle made a strong impression with his warm baritone and terrific rhythm guitar playing that drove the band as a drummer would.
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SXSW Review: Duffy
When 23-year-old Welsh singer Duffy took the stage at the Parish on Friday afternoon, she had the number one album in the U.K., but is virtually unknown in the States. That will change, my friends. Like Lulu and Dusty Springfield, she’s got a smoky quality to her voice, but the dimpled Duffy can air it out better than those two, as she proved on “Warwick Avenue,” one of those timeless soul numbers that is both 1968 and 2008. Let’s put it this way: if Duffy was a contestant on “American Idol,” David Archuletta would slink back to the Urban Outfitters that spawned him. She’s got the vibrations in her voice without being showy.
Sorry Shelby Lynne, but your career will be history when Duffy’s “Rockferry” is released in the U.S. in May.
The six-song set, as part of the Mercury Records party, ended with “Mercy,” with it’s “Stand By Me” bassline and “Sisters Are Doing It For Themselves” defiant streak. The band was so tight and Duffy so loose. The best act I’ve ever seen at SXSW was the BellRays in 2001. Don’t think I’ve got it in me to see a better set. The SXSW act I’m most certain will be a superstar is Duffy. Catch her Saturday at 8 p.m. at Stubb’s and I think you’ll agree.
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SXSW Scene: Human Giant
Despite what schedules say, you just never know what you are going to see when you hit up a day party at SXSW. Maybe an unscheduled musician sitting in with some friends. Maybe a special host doing some announcing. And sometimes it’s much more odd. Such was the case Friday afternoon at Emo’s. As the Seattle-based Fleet Foxes took the stage and prepared to play for fans at the Pitchfork Party outside at Emo’s, two-thirds of comedy troupe Human Giant, Azi Ansari and Rob Huebel, rushed the stage with t-shirt cannons and began firing off balled up shirts into the audience. Maybe the host of the afternoon were just warming up for their show later at the Velveeta Room, or maybe it was just clever marketing wrapped in some physical comedy.
The Foxes took the move in stride, though they were obviously surprised. Bearded and seated lead singer Robin Pecknold was actually rather amused at the demonstration, saying it was just a few weeks ago that he was downloading Human Giant off of iTunes. “What a crazy world,” he said a couple of times before the band finally broke into song.
Video: Pitchfork party with Human Giant and Fleet Foxes
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Party review: Fleet Foxes
The Pitchfork Media day party at Emo’s outside was reasonably accessible, perhaps due to the Spin party that was happening at the same time at Stubbs that included performances by Vampire Weekend, among others. The Seattle band Fleet Foxes took the stage around 3 p.m. after a strong set by Bon Iver. The Foxes started off with a gospel-style tune that was heavy on harmony at first and evolved into upbeat country rock. The set continued on in the same fashion, with songs that seems rooted in ’70s easy rock, except with more teeth. This band might draw some comparisons to My Morning Jacket, but the vocal work pushes past such comparisons, giving them their own unique, enjoyable sound.
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SXSW Review: The Hard Lessons
Vampire who? While that might be overstating the case — though as one Spin party VIP attendee said in reference to turbo-hyped band Vampire Weekend, “It isn’t exactly Beatlemania down there” — the New York combo had a lot to contend in Stubb’s basement Friday afternoon. That was where Detroit indie/soul/rock trio The Hard Lessons were brought in for two blistering sets by Spin honchos apparently looking to add some muscle to the B-team lineup inside.
They made the right choice. Tables overlooking the concert pit became de facto front-row balcony seats as soner guitarist Augie Visocchi, keyboardist/singer Korin Cox and drummer Christophe Jajac-Denek plowed through everything from indie-pop (“Milk and Sugar,” “See and Be Scene”), to Cox’s soul-fueled shouts like “Carey Says” and “Don’t Shake My Tree.”
There weren’t many occupied forks in the place by the end of either set, proof that a trip to the stage outside in years to come wouldn’t be a stretch for these folks.
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SXSW Scene: One last Spin
The annual jockey for laminates was back on Friday as, even more than usual, it seemed everyone was trying to get in to the always popular Spin magazine party to see Vampire Weekend, a band whose buzz has grown exponentially over the past few weeks, reaching a maddening din in Austin. Despite the alleged and rumored onslaught for entrance, the crowd was very manageable, as was getting in and out.
I caught some of the Danish New Yorkers the Raveonettes, maybe the most overexposed bands of this SXSW, shredding their surf-inspired punk that rides on huge waves of fuzzed out guitar before heading over to Emo’s and then back again for Vampire Weekend.
Despite the heat, the crowd had quite a bit of anxious buzz working for a day show. The young Ivy Leaguers took the stage after being introduced by indie rock kingmaker Nic Harcourt of KCRW and burst into their signature Afro-pop tinged sound that seems completely genuine and unpretentious despite the pedigree of the clean-cut preps from New York.
The band enthusiastically tore through much of their debut album at their first outdoor show in Austin, playing tunes such as “Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa,” “M79,” “Bryn,” “I Stand Corrected,” and the call-and-response infused “One (Blake’s Got a New Face),” which proved that even the hip crowd in the sweltering heat was not too hot (or cool) to do a little dancing.
Despite the fact that the band switched up their Afro-pop with some California surf sounds, a little bit of ’50s rock and some Rusted Root-inspired groove tunes, the set still seemed a little monotonous at times, but the mood may have been partially influenced by the nature of the venue.
Video: Raveonettes and Vampire Weekend at SPIN party
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SXSW Scene: Spin party
The scene at Stubb’s for the SPIN party Friday wasn’t much to talk about. At least not from the VIP section, where there were plenty of P’s, none of whom were terribly V or I.
As buzzy bands The Whigs, The Raveonettes (on a mission to repeatedly play virtually the exact same set this entire week) and Vampire Weekend coped with the heat to keep the sweaty masses entertained, upstairs there was a lot of schmoozing and people-watching, ocasionally broken up by bopping along to the music. But not too much; don’t wanna muss the hair any more than it already is. The most notable appearance was a tall drink of water with slicked back black hair and a priest’s robe and collar. Talk on the platform was it might have been Gary Oldman, but your reporter didn’t see a resemblance.
Final verdict: Fun? Sure. Worth the Rumplestiltskin-like bartering it took some folks to snag a coveted laminate? No way.
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SXSW Scene: The heat
With the temperature soaring into the 90s, the buzz words today are shade and water. After a long night of partying, there is quite the Night of the Living Dead feel among party hipsters whose fair night-club enhanced complexions have taken a beating these past 24 hours. But this is definitely no teetotaling crowd, as can be attested to by the steady lines for free booze at day parties along Sixth Street and Red River.
A note to our partying brethren: Don’t wait, hydrate. Maybe the hot temps will discourage some of the hundreds from New York who may have been considering relocating to Austin. Though if we really want to discourage that trend, maybe we should hold SXSW in July.
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SXSW Interview: Mick Jones and Tony James
An award of some sort should be given to the SXSW staffer who decided to have Mojo Magazine editor-in-chief Phil Alexander interview British punk legends Mick Jones (The Clash, Big Audio Dynamite) and Tony James (Generation X, Sigue Sigue Sputnik) Friday afternoon. Jones and James, who have started a new band, Carbon/Silicon, were ridiculously entertaining, creating the same spontaneous, anything-goes aura that the Beatles used to disarm interviewers during press conferences.
“(SXSW) reminds me of Cannes, but instead of films you go around and see bands,” Jones said when asked what he thought of his first SXSW experience.
Multiple times Alexander tried to get Jones and James to comment on what the counterculture used to be and what it means to be a part of the counterculture now.
“In the ’70s, if you had long hair it was very clear (you were a part of the counterculture),” James said.
Jones touched his balding head and joked, “that’s not an issue anymore.”
Stealing sips from a Corona that Alexander seemed to have brought out for himself, Jones displayed a quick wit and a knack for the off-topic segue that revealed him to be remarkably well-read and intelligent. At one point he analyzed Cormac McCarthy’s work; later, he offered an oral history of the Texas war for independence against Mexico.
“Lenny Kayes’ ‘Nuggets’ was really important,” Jones said of the classic compilation of ’60s garage rock when asked about his influences. He explained that he was lucky as a youth because “my mom was already in the States and she got me a subscription to Creem and sent it back to me.”
Jones also spoke about his early days with the Clash.
“We were always lucky ‘cause we (just) did it for the right reasons,” he explained. “We were in the right place at the right time. We weren’t totally fake.”
James mostly played the straight man to Jones’ cut-up. James made it clear that the two of them started Carbon/Silicon not only because they’ve been friends since 1975, but also because they had such a great time creating a song together about five years ago. Carbon/Silicon is a full-on band now, James said. “We’ve recorded three records and more in three years, and we’ve given them all away for free (on the internet).”
“The only problem with mp3s is that you can’t roll a joint on them,” Jones quipped.
During the audience Q&A session, one attendee pointed out that the punk rock ethos that birthed The Clash seemed in direct opposition Jaguar’s recent use of “London Calling” in a commercial aimed at punk rockers who have grown into middle age.
“I know about that,” Jones said smiling. “Life is full of contradictions.”
In response to another audience question, Jones noted that he identified with the 1980s American hardcore punk movement, but that he thought the real spirit of American punk was rap. “Music of the streets,” he said. “Rap was the equivalent.”
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Urban Music Festival lineup announced
And now for something completely different….
Yes, we’re deep in the throes of the perennial March music madness that is SXSW, but we’re also less than a month away from the Urban Music Festival, which will take place on Saturday, April 5, at Auditorium Shores. The lineup, which was announced today, features R&B artist Trey Songz, old school soul act After 7 and headlining act Jeffrey Osborne. For one day, tomorrow, 10 a.m. to 7 p.m., $15 tickets will be available at Mr. Catfish, Under One Roof and Mitchie’s Fine Black Art. Tickets will also be available online. After Saturday, the ticket price goes up to $25 in advance and $30 at the gate. For more details check out urbanmusicfest.com.
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SXSW Scene: Daniel Lanois
“I’m keeping my answers short because I’m losing my voice and I have to play at 8 tonight,” superproducer and musician Daniel Lanois said during a brief chat at the Austin Convention Center Friday afternoon.
Wearing a zipped up black leather jacket to ward off the 90-degree chill, the midwife to albums by everyone from U2 to Willie Nelson and Bob Dylan joked he was “just trying to get some rest” while in town this week to promote his album and film, “Her is What Is,” a documentary that he says celebrates the “beauty of creation” and offers a window into the creative process.
Long celebrated — and sometimes mocked — for creating works exuding mood and atmosphere, Lanois laughed at the idea of his lighting incense and burning candles in the studio to create a vibe. His secret is much simpler, he said: “I just associate myself with people who deliver.”
Being on the same wavelength with artists is a result of having “four philosophical discussions” with bands before the process starts, he said, and he’s begun to have those conversations with U2, with whom he’ll work again soon.
“They’re looking for an innovative, hand-played electro record with soaring melodies,” Lanois said. “And Bono’s got them.”
While some artists who are comfortable onstage cringe at seeing themselves on a film screen, Lanois said he didn’t have that problem.
“Vanity comes into play a little bit, which is a problem,” he said. “But I might have a career. I just got an agent.”
Asked who he would choose if he could work with anyone living or dead, Lanois didn’t have to think long before naming his choice: Jimi Hendrix.
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Another SXSW gastronomical update
Spotted: Rachael Ray in Cissi’s market this morning. She had one of their Sausage Biscuits (both biscuits and sausage are made in house). She’s hosting a day party beginning at noon Saturday at Beauty Bar, 617 E. Seventh St. The lineup includes the Cringe, the Raveonettes and the Stills.
Ray’s husband, John Cusimano, leads the Cringe.
Lunch — a menu created by Ray — will be served from 1 to 3 p.m.
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SXSW in the WSJ; equal opportunity sound enforcement
South by Southwest director Roland Swenson (or a small, well-rendered drawing thereof) appeared on the front page of the Wall Street Journal Friday morning. The piece, written by Ethan Smith, discussed what Statesman readers have long known: That SXSW, “once rebels,” according to WSJ, is considered “The Man” by many for aiding APD in shutting down parties.
The most striking quote comes from Tara Ryan, JetBlue’s manager of national promotions (the airline is sponsoring a number of parties this week, including Mess With Texas 2 on Saturday at Waterloo Park):
“Attendees don’t know the difference between official and unofficial events. This mix gives us the broadest possible exposure.”
This attitude is exactly what SXSW is afraid of, exactly why the company is so concerned with unofficial events. If people think they can be entertained without a badge or wristband, then they won’t buy them. If they don’t do that, then the festival dies. This comment provides a justification for every tactic Smith attributes to SXSW. Swenson owes Ms. Ryan some flowers.
In non-WSJ related news, Fire Marshall Don Smith said Thursday that he had a list — which he characterized as “very short” — of approximately nine parties that the Public Assembly Code Enforcement (PACE) Team was planning to investigate. Smith said some came from SXSW, some were noise complaints. He declined to name the parties in question.
“We’re not trying to drop a dime on anyone, we’re not rolling over anyone,” Swenson said Friday. “Our point is if you’re (the police) are gonna enforce code at our clubs, you gotta enforce it everywhere.”
And enforce it they did. The Arclight showcase on the roof of the Light Bar (408 Congress Ave.) was shut down due to excessive loudness. Swenson also said there was a brief question of loudness at the Cedar Door, but that was quickly resolved.
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SXSW scene: Day parties with our intern
As a member of the general public, my first day on the SXSW party scene was like hitting green light after green light. I had heard of the free bands, the free food, the booze, and could not believe these rumors were true.
Good planning is required for day party adventures. By way of Austin360.com’s own side party guide, the ideal partier must rank three categories by degree of importance: location, performers and freebies. Favored events should then be organized by time with backup parties listed as appropriate. RSVP when necessary in advance for any one you might attend.
Since I was to be on the go, I elected to take my car. Trying to find a meter downtown was time consuming, so a cab might be well worth the investment (especially since you’re not going to be paying for anything). After finally parking near the Capitol, I had to walk 20 minutes to get to the early afternoon party at Red Eyed Fly.
Once inside, a common theme began to emerge from the partiers I spoke with: There are enough quality, free side shows to keep any average Joe happy throughout the festival. “I can always get in everywhere I want, even without a badge,” said Ash Gray, who had been getting the most out of these events since the fun commenced on Wednesday.
Although I would recommend planning on any given band starting their set around 15 minutes after their scheduled time, Danish rock act the Raveonettes were surprisingly prompt. Their poppy, surf-inspired sound eventually drew a large crowd; when I left the show early for the next party, a huge line had formed where there had been no wait upon my arrival.
I jetted over to Bird’s Barbershop (2110 S. Congress) to catch London emcee Dizzee Rascal. Parking was tight but available in the surrounding residential area. Dewar’s and Lone Star provided free drinks. A bad PA system threatened to ruin the show, provoking Rascal to call the sound guy out. However, the rapper kept the crowd involved and made what he could of the performance.
As far as having the most complete package, the Sensa Playground party at 700 Dawson Road was a bigger steal than the Enron scandal. They actually had free food (hot dogs). A variety of free drinks were provided. They had on-site parking. There was even free shuttle service to downtown. If you come, be sure to take a turn playing John Travolta on the mechanical bull.
The only side party I didn’t get into was at the Fader Fort, where N.E.R.D. was scheduled to go on. Ironic, considering that I was actually on the list.
Between 8 and 9 p.m., most day parties start to wind down. I would suggest making your last stop downtown if you plan on attending a showcase that night.
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SXSW Review: Geno Delafose
Each year before SXSW, we ink-stained wretches are charged with coming up with a covey of “critics’ picks,” touting the cream of the crop. Each of the picks calls for a short description, and you’d be surprised at how hard it is to boil down a life’s work into about a dozen and a half words.
In the case of zydeco maestro Geno Delafose, however, the task is simplicity itself; just cite the name of his band—“French Rockin’ Boogie.”
Delafose played as part of a world music showcase at Momo’s, and the context was entirely appropriate; Zydeco and Cajun music are distillations of the world as filtered through the prism of south Louisiana. Together they incorporate influences from the British Isles, Africa, the Caribbean, France, Latin America and even — these days —domestic infusions of hip-hop and techno.
Delafose, when he is so inclined, can split the difference between the peppery, blues-based melodies of zydeco and the waltz-time “chanky-chank” rhythms of Cajun music. He grew up in both traditions, learning from his father, John Delafose, and playing in the old man’s band, the Eunice Playboys.
Today, Geno is apt to apply a zydeco spin to the Everly Brothers (“When Will I Be Loved”) or Sam Cooke (“Bring It On Home To Me”) as sing a classic like Clifton Chenier’s “Done Got Over” or some of the snappy old French waltzes.
But, hey, whatever fills the dance floor. As they say in Louisiana, “C’est bon, c’est tout.” In other words, it’s all good.
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SXSW Review: Raveonettes
New Yorker’s-via-Denmark’s The Raveonettes lived up to the hype surrounding their distortion-drenched new release, “Lust, Lust, Lust” during their 12:30 a.m. performance at Vice.
One of the best parts of the performance was that the club was just big enough so that anyone with a wristband, a badge, or $20 to slip the doorman was able to gain safe passage into the club. There was plenty of room to dance, chairs to stand on, and by the end of their set there was even enough room to see as many folks had departed in order to catch a 1 a.m. set at a different venue.
Much has been written about The Raveonettes’ heavy Jesus and Mary Chain influence on the songs from “Lust, Lust, Lust,” and it’s all true. The Raveonettes definitely usurp the influential band’s formula of fuzzed-out guitars crunching over four-on-the-floor drums and traditional pop song structure. But it should be noted that The Raveonettes name doesn’t bear a close resemblance to The Ronnettes by accident. Core members Sune Rose Wagner and Sharin Foo also incorporate Phil Spector’s wall of sound from the ’60s into their pastiche of influences, as well as American West Coast surf music and elements from Italian psychedelic pop.
Remember how during SXSW 2007, the Swedish band Peter Bjorn and John played almost 20 shows over four days, which either made the band more endearing considering their hard work or it made you never want to hear their hit single, “Young Folks” ever, ever again? The Raveonettes are on a campaign to rival Peter Bjorn and John - they’re playing nine shows in four days - but luckily The Raveonettes don’t have that one lone pop song at risk of over-saturation. Catch them while you can at one of their free day shows, because it’s likely their Saturday night 10 p.m. show at Emo’s will be nearly impossible to get in to see.
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SXSW Review: Trombone Shorty
OK, here’s the set-up: A horn player from the inner-city wards in New Orleans walks into a faux-Irish bar deep in the heart of Texas… The punchline? A smokin’-hot set by Troy “Trombone Shorty” Andrews and his band, Orleans Avenue.
Any metaphors about blowing like a hurricane would be heavy-handed in referring to any musician from the Crescent City. Suffice it to say, however, that Shorty is living proof that the musical spirit of the city remains unbroken and unbowed, despite the travails of its citizens.
The scion of a musical family (his older brother, James, is a mainstay of the Treme Brass Band) and the product of a musically rich downtown neighborhood, Shorty alternates between trombone and trumpet and layers his Second Line beats with funk, rock, Latin accents, hip-hop and soul. Beyond his New Orleans tutelage, tours with Lenny Kravitz have clearly helped open his musical horizons.
Playing off, and in tandem with, saxophonist James Martin (who kills in his own right) and the rest of his ensemble, Shorty exhorted the crowd in the tiny venue as though he were playing for a sold-out Jazzfest crowd. Blowing clean, hard, precise lines over a stew of funky grooves, he romped through his own “Like Mike,” Rebirth Brass Band’s “Feel Like Funkin’ It Up” and a jazzy version of “St. James Infirmary,” among other tunes. Sometimes, he jumped up and down in tandem with the crowd, or just put down his horn and surfed the band’s musical wave. His enthusiasm was, to say the least, contagious.
He proved himself a sly and canny showman, too. Prior to a Herculean effort at pulling the highest notes humanly possible out of his trumpet, he pulled a tube of lip balm out of his pocket, dabbed some on and cautioned, “Kids, don’t try this at home…”
Here’s another bit of advice: Run, don’t walk, to catch this guy next time he comes to town.
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SXSW Review: Syd Straw
Syd Straw deserves her own television show. It would probably have to run very, very, very late at night, but she made me laugh so hard at Bourbon Rocks Thursday that I had to wipe tears from my eyes.
Straw, of course, is a singer, not a comedian. Fans of the Golden Palominos will remember her stellar contributions to that illustrious band, which also featured some guys named Michael Stipe and Matthew Sweet. She has also sung with a long list of greats, including Rickie Lee Jones, Van Dyke Parks, Leo Kottke, Marc Ribot and Dave Alvin. Her voice is uncommonly bracing, like the first northerly wind that tells you autumn is at last around the corner. However, Straw has only managed to release two albums of her own, both cult favorites, the most recent some dozen years ago.
But although Straw’s long-anticipated third album, “Pink Velour,” is apparently still waiting in the wings for a label or backers of some kind, she showed no particular inclination to promote it, other than to joke it was her first “in 200 years,” and proffer a fine new song that, she said, was “like a new-born baby, and should be treated tenderly, and probably changed.”
Straw brought a terrific guitar-mandolin army that included Austinites Gurf Morlix (on electric) and Rich Brotherton (on mandolin), both of whom seemed to be having a capital time. But when a fan called out “Great band!” she replied “I don’t deserve them! One day I will grow into them.”
The bizarre clamor of Sixth Street and the unsuitability of a venue that let so much of that leak in led Straw to spend as much time hilariously marveling at the madness as actually singing. It probably didn’t help that she had been introduced with wild enthusiasm by none other than Beatle Bob, which prompted her to muse “I think we should do nine or ten really slow ballads now” as a response.
Straw riffed on the silly name “Bourbon Rocks,” and ruminated that “Sound checks are highly overrated,” and really, rehearsals are overrated, too. She proclaimed that the band was only doing songs they hadn’t rehearsed, “Because as Dad used to say, ‘It’s good enough for who it’s for.” Somewhat flummoxed, nonetheless, she expressed a desire that someone bring her a fancy, expensive cocktail, and when not one, but two, materialized, she exclaimed “They’re stacked up like planes on the runway! This might not be so bad….”
Straw introduced one feisty song as having “the parenthetical title ‘Don’t date arrogant European avant-garde jazz record producers.’“ She played a fan request for her old song “CBGB’s,” but only after a lengthy comedic detour, and only with some prompting on the chords from guitarist Francis X. She also sang a ballad by Austin’s Jo Carol Pierce, holding a spiral notebook to remind herself of the lyrics. She later produced another, smaller notebook in search of something or other, only to announce “Juan invites you to the hairy-tongued horror of a kiss,” which she explained was the best graffiti she’d ever seen, inscribed on a bridge over the Cuyahoga River in Ohio.
It was probably one of the most disjointed SXSW sets ever, but most of the crowd seemed to richly enjoy the rare spectacle of an artist simply reacting to the SXSW experience, which Straw summarized as “All about rubbing elbows in hell.”
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SXSW Review: Sex/Vid
As was suggested in these pages earlier in the week, Beerland has pulled off their non-SXSW showcases with aplomb. I regret that I have not had more time to spend there, but man alive, the time spent in that little bunker was just killer, thanks mostly to Sex/Vid.
Sex/Vid are sort of the Vampire Weekend of hardcore punk. Many doubt the accompanying hype and cannot believe the praise that is heaped upon their heads. Such doubters would be silenced (or at least certainly should be, by force if necessary) after witnessing the band’s devastating set at Beerland at midnight Thursday.
Sex/Vid hail from the very proud and shamefully underutilized tradition of ur-hardcore act Void - lots of guitar feedback linking songs that seem to go everywhere at once.
Such chaos is tempered by a genuinely sophisticated sense of melody (or at least riff-logic), a smart sense of how to put parts together and a singer whose voice will probably be completely gone this time tomorrow. Riffs ascended and descended like a serial killer transversing the stairs, knife in hand. Everything swung harder than most Stones tribute bands. The gulf between what these puds do and what nearly everyone else in their genre is vast. Sex/Vid, in all their sweaty, balding glory, reminds you just how emotionally inept and formally rigid the vast majority of hardcore punk really is.
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SXSW Review: Body of War
The premise behind “Body of War” — the documentary that premiered at the SXSW Film Festival, the compilation CD soundtrack and the all-star concert at Stubb’s on Thursday night — is simple and powerful: No one has a greater moral authority to protest an unjust war than the soldiers who fight in it.
The soldier in this case is Tomas Young, who was crippled in an attack after less than a week in-country in Iraq.
Young, in a wheelchair, watched the musical proceedings from the side of the Stubbs’ stage. The myriad performers in the two-hour event rendered what was referred to as his “soundtrack” — the artists he turned to to help him cope with the wrenching dislocations of paralysis and trauma.
For all the emotion attached to the event, however, it was, early on, a musically pallid affair for the most part. Musicians, including Brendan James, Mason Jennings, American Bang, the Rx Bandits and Brett Dennen performed one or two numbers in an acoustic format. They sang from a variety of perspectives — as soldiers, appalled citizens, Iraqi civilians, or from a spiritual plane — but an acoustic guitar only reaches so far across the crowded Stubbs amphitheater.
Things started to heat up with the rich baritone and quirky musical signatures of Serj Tankian (of System of A Down), who sang, “Wouldn’t it be great to heal the world with a song?” No, it’s a lot more complicated than that, riposted Billy Bragg, who followed Tankian. “We can’t change the world with a song,” said Bragg, who is as much a political activist as a musician. “But we have a platform and it’s how we use that platform that matters.”
Ben Harper, the crowd-pleaser of the evening, followed Bragg onstage for a pair of songs, but it was left to Tom Morello of Rage Against the Machine to really rouse the rabble, as it were.
Performing a furious mini-set that included some mordant anti-war material including “Gather Round the Stone,” “Flesh Shapes the Day” and “Battle Hymns,” Morello exhorted the crowd with cheerful, R-rated monologues before leading the cast of performers and a pogo-ing audience in a punked-out rendition of Woody Guthrie’s “alternative national anthem” (as Morello put it), “This Land Is Your Land.”
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SXSW Review: Mike Rep
Rock bands with a mix of the young and the older in lineups are fraught with the potential for hackery of the first order. Referents, worldviews, a theory of the music’s place in the world - all of these things are different and often competing. Or the younger members remain deferent to their elders, which does nobody any good at all.
Consider, for example, the generations of helpless locals who would back up Chuck Berry, who, according to myth, simply expected the locals to know his material forwards and backwards.
Sometimes, however, bands with an older leader and a backup band young enough to be said leader’s children works out just great. Mike “Rep” Hummel’s set at the Soho Lounge Thursday night was just such an occasion.
Mike Rep was a proto-punk, which means that in those strange and confusing days after, say, Woodstock and before the Ramones, this Ohio native was cranking out primitive, anti-fidelity rock music with a one man against the world quality that was almost pyschedelic in its intensity. Why is he not famous? Well, that’s how life works sometimes.
Thursday, he was using buzzy indie rock band Times New Viking as his backing back and it’s hard to think of a more sympathetic set of students. Rep cranked through his blasts of Rust Belt pound with joy and verve, TNV matching his every step. Thirty-year old songs were followed by newer material, and of course they didn’t sound all that different. The band also cranked through what music be the most demented (read: fantastic) cover of the Archies’ “Sugar, Sugar” the assembled had ever heard. A very special night indeed. They are welcome back to Austin any time. How about a tour, guys?
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SXSW Review: The Heavy
Seeing UK funk rock band The Heavy play Thursday, it was hard to not feel like someone was selling a false bill of goods. That’s at least partially a compliment since the fivesome from Noid, England, sound like the sexiest, funkiest group on this or any shore on their great debut, “Great Vengeance and Furious Fire,” which finally gets a U.S. release next month.
Full of sweaty Curtis Mayfield-mimicking vocals from singer Swaby, the record has a Stax-like muscle to its horns and rhythm section, which is almost a must to do that kind of music well.
So the problem with the band’s hotly anticipated set at Elysium? No horns, just four-beat prerecorded horn figures played from a sample box hooked up to a keyboard that stood in ably for the real thing at first, but soon became constricting. This was the case because soul and funk bands, particularly horns, bass and drums, work best when there’s an elastic push and pull to the rhythm that allows for improvisation at the drop of a hat.
Lacking that moving pocket, you had an able band and a vocalist who’s clearly a star in the making reigned in almost as bad as a rap artist rhyming live over recordings, giving them no room for spontaneity. The lesson in all of this? Next time, guys, drop the cash to bring on some real brass that’ll let you shine even better than on the record.
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SXSW Review: Samulnori drummers
Foot traffic along Sixth Street at Trinity and later Neches around 9:30 p.m. slowed to a crawl or stopped altogether Thursday as crowds whipped out their cellphone cameras and watched as a group of Samulnori percussion musicians showed their stuff.
Playing four different instruments — from large side-saddle drums to small frying pan-like cymbals — the group of 15 Asian-American students, most of them University of Texas students, played the Korean-based music in round, marching formations while wearing red, white, blue and yellow robe-like uniforms.
The shows were brief at around 10 minutes each, but were an out-of-nowhere surprise for the crowds milling about and heading to their ultimate destinations for the night.
Definitely one of those anything-can-happen South By Southwest moments that keep people at home and from far away talking after the music has stopped.
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SXSW Review: Evangelicals, Bon Iver, Jens Lekman
While I’m not overly familiar with the Austin-based Evangelicals, who originally hail from Norman, Okla., their set last November at the Fun Fun Fun Festival was enough to persuade me to put them on my list of bands to see at this year’s SXSW at the Mohawk Patio. Drawing comparisons to the Flaming Lips for songs that are at once dark and airy, lead vocalist Josh Jones’ vocals do sometimes seem to float off into the atmosphere while he simultaneously deals with weighty subject matter. The band attended to sound problems before they could start, but got going soon after, and played a solid set that included plenty of onstage theatrics as well a guitar solo or two thrown in for good measure.
Next up was Justin Vernon, aka Bon Iver. As a Yankee transplant who dearly misses the autumns and winters of New England (although I have heard that it has snowed in Austin in the not-too-distant past), the idea of a musician like Eau Claire, Wisc.’s Bon Iver appeals to me greatly (according to his SXSW bio his name is a play on the French bohn eevair, meaning “good winter”). Vernon’s self-released debut album, “For Emma, Forever Ago,” was conceived during a four-month solo recording session in a cabin during one of Wisconsin’s long, snowy winters. Vernon was accompanied on stage by a drummer and a second guitarist, who complemented Vernon well as he made his with through a set that alternated between emotional ballads with vocals that border on wailing and more upbeat folk-rock style songs. At one point he asked the crowd to sing along; he was clearly having a good time on stage.
What was perhaps the biggest crowd of the night squeezed in for Swedish musician Jens Lekman. I had previously heard that Lekman was a solo act the last time he appeared in Austin, and was pleasantly surprised this evening when he appeared on stage with a full band, including a violin, cello and a laptop/DJ. On his most recent record, “Night Falls Over Kortedala,” Lekman relates feelings of romantic pain and loneliness over upbeat violin swirls that are evocative of disco and lounge-act pop from the 1960s. His set tonight included a selection of songs from that record, which the band made their way through with great energy. The set was not without some entertaining gimmickry, including the DJ mixing “Give Me Just A Little More Time” in the middle of “The Opposite of Hallelujah” as well as another point where the entire band put down their instruments to dance with arms extended.
Peter Mongillo
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SXSW Review: Liam Finn
Liam Finn undoubtedly has one of the hardest-rocking bands at SXSW — and it’s just him and backing vocalist-percussionist-autoharpist E.J. Barnes. At the crammed-solid Ale House Thursday, Finn mostly played electric guitar, but sometimes set electronic loops of guitar going and pounced on a drum kit to up the ante. That might sound gimmicky, but he has such a natural feel for dynamics and subtle grasp of drama that every moment of the music felt completely organic.
It’s hard to say whether Finn is a better guitarist or drummer, because he played both instruments with equal intelligence, finesse and ferocity. He’s perhaps not quite as phenomenal a vocalist as his father, Crowded House frontman Neil Finn, but has a very good falsetto, delivered songs with exceptional conviction, and blended brilliantly with Barnes’ high harmonies and even her first-rate rock ‘n’ roll scream.
Finn recently released his solo debut, “I’ll Be Lightning,” to critical acclaim and considerable buzz. The album has those layered, finely textured, Beatle-esque arrangements that seem to be part of the Finn DNA. Liam Finn not only conjured the same richness live, but was an absolutely captivating performer. (Judging by the number of Aussie and New Zealand accents heard just in the front rows, the word has already gotten around Down Under). He was not hindered even by the initial lack of lights on the stage, which merely prompted him to joke about how good the audience looked, and suggest maybe all the people in front with cameras flashing should take lots of pictures.
After a while, a few people with powerful flashlights came down front to provide some illumination, and one larger stage light shone half-heartedly from up above. The dimness didn’t impede the enthralled crowd’s appreciation of powerful numbers such as the tightly coiled “Energy Spent” and fierce “I’ll Be Lightning,” although it was pretty awe-inspiring if you happened to be standing close enough to watch Finn play drums, as the kit seemed about to fly apart and his sticks were a psychedelic blur in the strobing of camera flashes. Finn and and Barnes really went above and beyond on “Lead Balloon,” which elevated into a vocal harmony freak-out that brought the White Album to mind.
Certainly it might have taken Finn a little longer to get noticed without the famous last name, and there’s a definite genealogical connection between his music and that of both his father and uncle Tim Finn. His songs particularly recall the more thorny, less-appreciated (at least stateside) Finn Brothers collaborations. However, Liam Finn is such an amazing musician and brilliant performer that he’s in no danger of standing in anyone’s shadow.
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SXSW Review: Islands
The Pecan Street courtyard seemed like it was almost at capacity for Islands’ 8 p.m. performance.
Born from the now defunct Unicorns, Islands, a six member band from Montreal, took the stage with their lead singer in white mime-style face makeup. The band immediately kicked into high gear and stayed there for their entire set of operatic pop rock.
The sound was eclectic and the variety of instruments being played on stage, including a violin, allowed the band to shift between country, rock and even a bit of hip-hop when former collaborator Busdriver appeared on stage, camera in hand, and rapped with the band.
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SXSW Review: Emmy the Great
Emmy the Great, aka Emma-Lee Moss, is the kind of artist who really should be seen in a great listening room like the Cactus Cafe. But although conditions at Latitude 30 Thursday night were less than ideal, with indifferent acoustics, an uneven mix and a configuration that guaranteed the maximum commotion and jostling in the audience, she still proved a very winning performer.
Moss has a quietly stunning voice, with the springwater clarity of the late British folksinger Sandy Denny. Moss’ songs have charming, unassuming but very memorable melodies, and lyrics that can make you catch your breath. She told alarming stories with the starkest understatement, and displayed a real gift for creating impact with first lines. “We Almost Had a Baby” started with the matter-of-fact declaration “You didn’t stop when I told you to stop,” and goes on to detail a welter of conflicting emotions, beginning with anger: “I would have liked to have something above you, to have something to hold, and know I could choose to let it grow, and I would have told you, and I’d have said hey, I’m in control, I’ll let you know if you have to come and choose a name.”
“MIA” recreated the confusion and disconnection that followed a car accident, with shards of detail emerging around a recollection of the song (by hip-hop artist MIA) that was playing on the radio when the crash occurred.
London-based Moss, who has self-released one EP, accompanied herself on acoustic and had spare backing from fiddle, acoustic guitar and Euan Robinson (Stars of Sunday League) on subtle backing vocals. Although the songs were intense, she was low-key and self-deprecating, joking after she had to ask for more guitar in her monitor: “We’re very high-maintenance for such a small band.” With such a voice, and such a gift for songwriting, Emmy the Great really shouldn’t be a “small band” for very long.
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Spotted: Michael Stipe at Raveonettes
Apparently R.E.M. frontman Michael Stipe is a Raveonettes (or Jesus and Mary Chain) fan. Stipe was spotted watching The Raveonettes’ 12:30 a.m. set at Vice, sipping on some suds and singing all the words.
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SXSW scene: Zizek crasher
While it’s far from a full house at the Zizek Urban Beats Club, the mix is a hot blend of musica urbana and the dance floor is hopping. One random passerby was so inspired by the sounds that he hopped the fence on the patio to get in, taking out a couple of bar stools, a table and a cocktail or two in the process. He lasted less than a minute before the bouncers found him.
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SXSW scene: Vampire Weekend sighting
Members of the buzziest of buzz bands were spotted at Jens Lekman’s show at the Mohawk. Also in the crowd: Neko Case of New Pornographers.
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SXSW scene: Sound problems
Every year there is at least one SXSW sound ordinance horror story that leaves a bitter taste in the mouth of musicians and music fans.
This year’s battle commenced promptly at 9 p.m. Thursday during the Arclight Records showcase at the Light Bar.
Austin instrumental punk rock band Tia Carrera made it through their blistering set by ignoring the venue’s soundman’s request for sonic temperance.
At 10 p.m., Brooklyn, N.Y. band Freshkills made it about halfway through their set before the venue’s soundman pulled their plugs.
Club employees attested that City of Austin police arrived at the club with a decibel reader.
“They told us the police said the music was too loud,” Arclight Records founder Mauro Arrambide said.
“We knew we were going to get shut down before we even played our first note,” Magnet School vocalist/guitarist Mark Ford said, laughing through his frustration.
An enormous PA was in place, but there was no evidence of sufficient sound dampening devices in the venue.
“They’ve got three of Austin’s loudest bands playing in a venue that is totally inappropriate,” said Tia Carrera drummer Erik Conn. Most of the musicians that were supposed to play that evening said that evening that the rooftop venue was not appropriate for the Arclight Record’s hard rock showcase. Austin’s ever-changing skyline — where open condo windows litter the landscape — is going to make this an issue that needs to be addressed.
(For instance, what is going to happen to Club de Ville and The Mohawk when the condominiums across the street from them on Red River open for residents?)
Despite the fact that his entire showcase was a wash, Arrambide eked out a smile while apologizing to his bands, two of which had traveled from New York.
“Hey, maybe we can hit four for five and get almost all of our bands shut down,” Arrambide quipped as the New York City band Phonograph hesitantly began to set up their gear.
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SXSW scene: Austin Music Hall
OK, so the idea was tonight I’d see two very popular bands I felt a little guilty for not knowing a little better, Yo La Tengo and My Morning Jacket. Love the guitar and the husband-and-wife thing (and cool covers) going on with the former, love the guitar sound (if not so much Jim James vocals).
But I just have to talk about something else. Friends, I saw you rocking, but you saw two good bands in a terrible-sounding room. The ongoingly remodeled Austin Music Hall needs much, much better sound for a venue so titled. It was brittle all over and too bass-heavy in places, depending on the song.
The best thing? My Morning Jacket had a pretty fantastic light show. Sympathies to any sound person who has to do the job there. I’m sure they’re quite capable, but that place is unforgiving.
And forgive me, MMJ, but I left before you finished.
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SXSW scene: Playboy party line
The line for the Playboy party in the old Whitley building at Third and Brazos stretches down the corner and around the block. There’s also a big crowd hovering around the Third Street entrance and crowding the street trying to VIP their way in. No doubt the projections of vintage topless pin-ups visible from the street is doing no small part to help build the hype.
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