Bouncing From Club To Club To Club

With Thousands Of Bands At The Annual Indie Festival in Austin, TX, What Stood Out?

originally published March 21, 2007

Day 1: Wednesday, Mar. 14

I am at a Spin magazine dinner and I just met the owner of Spin whose name is Nimms, or Niles. Nickles. Nivvet? Napmphty? Nippy?? Something like that. We were invited via a lovely friend from Athens who once spent a morning drinking and throwing ninja stars into trees on the University of Georgia campus. Now she's an ad rep for one of the bigger music publications in the world. Part of me wants to go up to Nivvet and tell him he should hire me because I am hilarious, despite my lack of spelling skills and my inability to finish things on time.

On the other hand, I think the schmoozy-ness of the entire SXSW festival is probably the weirdest thing for anyone, especially Nickles, and he probably can't do the writer-hiring anyway even though he owns the damn thing. It brings up the old question: Can God make a corn dog so big that even God can't eat it?

It's a little shocking to start to understand that some of the biggest, most iconic magazines, or bands, or labels are just made up of a bunch of quirky kids and a nonchalant billionaire who all love music.

Nion. His name is Nion.

Here is where I am. It is time to see some shows. Kiiiiiii , let me run away with you. Two little Japanese woman are onstage wearing all manner of crazy neon apparel, playing what I think is "Oh Christmas Tree" on keytar and singing punchy punk melodies under each other's harmonies. They are fantastic. After the show, I ask one of them who they are, and I feel like a teenager in love. She answers me by saying "thank you" in Japanese (thanks to Rosetta Stone CDs and a Styx song, I understand!) and then the conversation gets extremely confusing because I am both professing my love for them and trying to get information. Out to another venue's patio…

The Comas ' songs are what would happen if shoegazing slow rock did a bunch of coke. The bassist looks like a 19-year-old Patti Smith. They're beard-core with a dramatic, harmonic girl. Apparently, they started out as a Chapel Hill joke band, but evolved into a pretty good alt-country band with little pieces of musical texture building up together dynamically.

Day 2: Thursday, Mar. 15

I'm drunk and I shouldn't have eaten all those shrimp nachos. I just returned to the Team Clermont party at the Flamingo Cantina after a huge lunch. I win a free pair of promotional Sucony sneakers because there is no one else there with a freakishly small size 5½ foot. Score!

The members of Dark Meat just came marching in off the street dressed like an acid-head high school band and took over the room. It's impossible to escape their exhilaration, their energy: it sucks you right in. All 65 of them are playing their hearts out and singing their lungs off. The Headlights are out of Champaign, IL, fronted by an adorable little bird girl with a really muscular back and a punchy, strong voice. She's on the keyboards and backed by couple of energetic boys playing daring, layered rock. Former Athenian Tristan Wraight's in the band, too. Nice to see post-Maserati gigs working out.

Sweden's The Pipettes are my dancing dreams come true. They're three choreographed darlings who sing conversational, '50s prom songs about dancing, men and generally being naughty. Their show is like watching mermaids or something - I hardly feel it is real because they are so wonderful.

I spend the rest of the afternoon dancing in my chair from the porch listening to Architecture in Helsinki.

After an hour-long line, I end up inside the Stax Record Showcase . So far, it is funky. Booker T & the MGs are playing songs like "Green Onions" that I've heard so much they are almost non-songs. I would be dancing, but my feet are murdering me and I have the only chair in the entire venue.

I manage to find kind of an odd place in a corner of the room that everyone has to pass to get in and out of the VIP area. Isaac Hayes shuffles by me like a giant statue dressed in red. He is surrounded by panicked managers shooting back and fourth, so unable to relax it almost destroys any image of the icons I've created. The sound is so clean and polished, agents are screaming into their Blackberries, and there is such an immediacy that it's difficult to imagine how this music was ever created out of anything raw or soulful. That's the tricky thing about this festival - on occasion, you get a glimpse of the emergency of rock and roll. It's the panicked managers who end up making events like this possible, but we try to only see the magic.

I am probably crazy, but I leave and miss William Bell , Eddie Floyd and Hayes collaborate on an Otis Redding Number. Lambchop with the Tosca String Quartet at the Habana Calle 6 patio: I am, once again, outside listening to the delicate and awkward bluesy methods of singer Kurt Wagner . NPR should be waiting in the wings to interview these guys and they should all be getting grant money. The string quartet is flawlessly trained, and furthermore, so good that the members are willing to experiment with their instruments for something more than art's sake. They go from sounding like a symphony to sounding like zippers in a hurricane. Paired with the beautiful clumsiness of Lambchop, they are perfect. Black Fiction is a six-piece man's-man band that consists of a deejay who drums, a bassist who looks like an out-of-shape Johnny Damon; a bells player and a guitar player with mustard on his shirt. They look like they would write heavy beer-brawl songs with sweet metal licks, but they're actually quite tender, and pretty fucking awesome. They swing from twinkly samples, mouth harmonicas and falsetto to gutsy rock and roll. They look like they'd hang out at an Auto Zone listening to Pantera in a bust-ass Dodge Charger, but God love 'em, because they write gorgeous songs.

If I were in high school, I totally would have been trying to hang out with them at that Auto Zone, by the way.

Day 3: Friday, Mar. 16

The Modern Skirts are playing at the Athens in Austin party and we're eating free barbecue and drinking good beer. The members are, as usual, pretty flawless. They're getting more comfortable with themselves as a band, and play naturally and unpretentiously. I hope they don't get too comfortable, though, and keep pushing the edges of their sound. The Empties are next, and they could be a wedding band in a '50s movie with their melodies. They're strong songwriters, but I don't get a sense of what drives them at all, or what calls them to express themselves musically. I want them to take risks. If there is nothing I could hate, there is nothing I can love.

But who am I? Time to head somewhere else. Ra Ra Riot are ra ra rad. When I walk up, I think I hear The Clash song "Lost In The Supermarket," but it's just a similar melody. This act is a little like a dancier, less tortured Arcade Fire without the enigmatic frontman. I think there are a million of them onstage. It might be a little derivative, but they're doing it well.

I have no idea who is playing at this Pirate! Promotions party, but I just got in a serious water gun fight in the middle of the day with the promotional team Pirate! I love that they aren't having an anxiety attack because no one is networking at their party, because they seem to be having a tremendous time. Keep that dream alive.

I am now at the Filter party listening to Badly Drawn Boy suck the joy out of the room with his whimsical acoustic set. There are too many acoustic songwriters who have done this better and more sincerely, but play on, player. I'm a cold woman after this many free Southern Comfort-based drinks.

I take a nap, eat, and I feel like a million dollars. I'm watching Canada's Rock Plaza Central , and this band has my heart and my attention forever. These guys look like a high-school faculty band with their ill-fitting jeans and unassuming dance moves, but they sound like Phosphorescent or Neutral Milk Hotel or something else that has stapled itself in my mind as sound full of genius. There is no hint of fantasy or sadness, though, and all of it is refreshing. Their drummer is a loose cannon - his high-hat broke and he is completely unfazed. He's like the crazy uncle who just does whatever he wants at the wedding, but really he's everyone's favorite. He yells from the drum kit, he plays until the song is long over, he stops the song to kiss his bandmates or just give a speech. There is a kind of sober, well-adjusted joy about the way they handle their instruments proficiently while laughing at each other's antics. They play dynamic, beautiful, textured songs. I want all of their albums.

More, more, more. Charalambides has packed the room. I can't see the woman, but her voice is like a fairy in a movie. The man is playing chuggy, delayed guitar solos and he looks like a cross between Jesus, and a face cut out of a tree. They're slow, ethereal and they make the room sound like glass. At times, the repetition of their lyrics gets a little indulgent (and Renn Fest-conjuring with the nature themes), but her voice is barely human, it's so clear.

Over to the Blender Bar Balcony, and The Ponytails are playing super-fast math rock while the drummer rides the cymbals. There is no proper vocalist, but a girl who moves and sounds like a five-year-old throwing a tantrum. It's youthful, annoying, cathartic and interesting. I want to watch her antics because she's just spazzing out so thoroughly, and the bandmembers are feeding off of each other's energy. Indian Jewelry follows, and when I first listen to it, my brain cannot process it. By the end of the set, it is one of my favorite shows. This band produces a throbbing gush of consuming sound. The blackness and the strobe light guard their resources, so I'm not sure how their components are working. The drumming is cymbal-free, driving and more melodic than any other part of the noise. This band doesn't feel like music, it seems an installation, or something built for more than just my eyes and ears.

Day 4: Saturday, Mar. 17

I'm outside in the Spring Break sun at a studio in front of a baseball diamond. I'm listening to the experimental violin escapades of Burning Starcore . An Asian kid is abusing a violin with effects pedals, and I feel like I should be sitting outside of X-Ray Café. This display is more art than music, and if I were on drugs, I would be crying. His violin doesn't sound anything like a tender string instrument - it sounds like listening to the screams of a medieval torture chamber.

Now he is shaking his face and cheeks into the microphone. He sounds like a 1920s recording of a cartoon dog attacking a cartoon baker while the recording equipment is being destroyed. I love it. Slaraffenland is playing, and I love the weather, but my selfish ears wish they were in a room this sound could take over. This band is amazing at breaking down melodic songs and massaging little experimental pieces of each melody until they're just so tense and intricate.

Heading downtown and back towards the action, De Novo Dahl is playing in the most hideous Elvis outfits. Theses guys are consummate performers, but this hot, empty parking lot doesn't give anything back to them from the audience. I'd usually be dancing to every note, but it's just so disgustingly hot.

By 7 p.m., Earl Greyhound IS BLOWING MY MIND. I'm sad I missed them at Tasty World a few weeks back. You should be, too. The woman in this band is dressed in a mini-dress, boots, has an afro with a feather in it, and is playing a gigantic bass. On her knees. While WAILING harmonies. The drummer looks like a linebacker in a dashiki and he is destroying the biggest drum set I've ever seen. The skinny, long haired guitarist is conjuring Robert Plant and George Harrison, and I can say that without feeling shy because he is ripping through his songs like I have never seen a human being from this day and age do. I feel like if I listen to their record backward I am going to hear satanic messages. I have never, never seen anyone rock so soulfully in real life. I am probably getting pregnant from just watching this show. I don't know why they aren't all millionaires with gold records and bad, bad drug problems.

I am exhausted and my ears are throbbing.

I end up seeing about 75 other bands I don't have space to write about here, and my packed notebook proves it. The streets are so littered with energy and bodies and pamphlets and CDs and smells and odd costumes that Austin looks like an apocalyptic, hedonistic nightmare. It's St. Patrick's Day and you can hardly move through the freak show. I have seen every kind of person imaginable, most of whom are costumed or barely dressed, uniformed, crazy, or drunk, and all melted from the heat of the day. I feel like Mad Max is going to motorcycle down the street, and honestly, no one would really even notice him.

We're capable of so much ugliness here, but that isn't all there is to it. If you can ignore the logistics, the panic and the filth and listen to all this creativity, it isn't ugly at all.

Bunny Mcintosh

Home Team Away!

How Athens Musicians Fared At SXSW 2007

originally published March 21, 2007

The big news coming out of Austin this year, at least in terms of Athens bands, was the lack of representation in the official conference showcases. The annual Texas independent music festival-slash-conference features hundreds, if not thousands, of bands performing over five days in almost 100 venues around Austin.

A large number of Athens-based acts did make it out to Texas and played day shows, parties and showcases, though only three Athens acts this year - one of which doesn't really count - made it past SXSW's acceptance committee. That wasn't just a problem for Athens, though, as there was much grumbling that this year's festival was too focused on big names and nostalgia acts, although there was much proof to the contrary. The Whigs were accepted to the conference/ festival, and that makes sense given their growing profile over the past year and a half. Summer Hymns were a late addition to the lineup, but that band's psychedelic country-folk has never been a stranger to Austin, and the band's label Misra is based there. Ruby Isle , the new project featuring former I Am The World Trade Center guy Dan Geller and two collaborators based out of Milwaukee performed its second and third shows ever at SXSW, and with two-thirds of its membership based out of town, it's hard to chalk one up for the home team.

And speaking of The Whigs, the band continues to ride its wave of acclaim and acceptance. Only weeks after Esquire heralded Whigs beatkeeper Julian Dorio as the Best Drummer (one assumes in… the country?), the trio rocked three shows in Austin with healthy crowds singing along. New multi-instrumentalist Sam Gunn (an occasional Flagpole contributing writer) is the temporary fill-in after the departure of longtime bassist Hank Sullivant, and Gunn's talent seems to have injected the band with a little more creative energy, and vocalist-guitarist Parker Gispert seemed particularly energized at Saturday night's show following Daniel Johnston. Fans of the band should keep an eye on Rhapsody.com; while out in Austin, The Whigs recorded live versions of four old tracks and one new one that should soon make their way onto the online music site.

The other strong success of the festival was Dark Meat , and that band didn't even receive an official slot in the conference! Wheeling into town after a late-night stint in Louisiana, the band played with a 12-person lineup at a Thursday party thrown by Athens-based promotion company Team Clermont . After parading down the street and into the venue, the band rocked through a psychedelic but brief set, opening up for Gruff Rhys, the Pipettes and other buzzed-about acts. Friday saw the band share the stage with Les Savy Fav and impress the crowd at a party hosted by comedian David Cross ; thanks to that performance, in fact, the band was invited to play a last-minute gig on Saturday night following former Primus bassist Les Claypool at an event sponsored by JamBase.com. About 20 percent of the jam-band fans in that crowd hated Dark Meat, 10 percent loved 'em and the other 70 percent just seemed confused, but the band certainly made a mark and, if it can keep it up, could do even bigger shows next year at national events like SXSW.

In bigger terms, though, what could've been a high point of our local bands at South by Southwest turned out instead to be only a pleasant diversion, though one that points to promise in the future. The Athens in Austin party was an afternoon of food, friends and six Athenian acts, but it was an event that came together at the last minute, even according to some of its organizers, and it felt like it.

The party took place out at the Green Mesquite barbecue joint, and it was moderately attended by people with personal connections to Athens - friends, bandmates, business types, writers. R.E.M. guitarist Peter Buck did stop by, which made for nice whispers in the crowd; he was in town to play with buddy Robyn Hitchcock at several performances. In fact, that combo pairing - one half of the Robyn Hitchcock & the Venus 3 quartet appearing on Wednesday, Mar. 21 at the 40 Watt - got a lot of attention in Austin, from lines out the door at venues like The Dirty Dog to fawning press coverage throughout the week (though it often focused as much on Buck and Hitchcock's colorful shirts as it did on their music).

Anyway, back to the "Athens in Austin" party. Opening act Ken Will Morton is an able songwriter, and his American folk sound has grown increasingly rustic and battle-scarred the longer he's been at it. He's definitely more handy doing the solo thing rather than fronting predictable rock bands, though, and had a moderate amount of success gaining the attention of a hungry crowd waiting for the free barbecue to appear. The Empties and The Pendletons took the stage next, plying agreeable, inoffensive pop rock that's endeared 'em to UGA crowds. It's nice to see rock bands that aren't afraid of putting vocal harmonies out front; perhaps if nothing else that can be the legacy of the Modern Skirts' popularity in this town. Both The Empties and The Pendletons are reminiscent of The Whigs circa 2003 or early 2004. (Sidenote: What's up with that Pendletons tune that sounds like a straight lift of Modest Mouse's "Float On"?)

Speaking of the Modern Skirts , that band turned in a tight and impressive set, with several Austin natives commenting on how refreshing the band's sound was. The Skirts are precisely the sort of talented, regionally popular and promising, rising band that should play at SXSW. Maybe a higher profile gig next year will come their way, though they did go on to play an unofficial show later the weekend; perhaps a few more of the right ears got turned their way.

Seeing Folklore on the bill was a pleasant nod to the indie-pop eclecticism that has been prominent in Athens, though the crowd wasn't really engaged, and Summer Hymns headlining the day party seemed a little predictable - they were the same band who played the last time a similar "Athens in Austin" party was thrown at the same space in 2004.

Overall, the Athens in Austin party came across as a good time (if admittedly hastily assembled), and the bands selected didn't represent the breadth of talent in our town, or even in the Athens musicians who were in Austin. And there were a lot of people out in Austin from Athens who hadn't even heard about the party, so there's also room for growth in getting the word out.

It's a promising first step in what will hopefully become a more robust annual tradition. Jared Bailey and the rest of the party's organizers deserve a good amount of acclaim for their work in bringing in some of the more "official" sponsors not regularly tied to the music scene - folks like the Chamber of Commerce, the ACC Development Foundation and the Mayor's Community Development Fund. (It should be noted that Flagpole was a financial sponsor of the party, though the music department wasn't involved.)

Other Athens bands made it through town - or at least near town. A late-night chat with members of Cinemechanica over tacos revealed that a show the band played was a little off the beaten path, though still, apparently, enjoyable. We Versus the Shark and Bomb the Music Industry also made a few peripheral SXSW appearances in the midst of their current tour, although nothing that was linked specifically to the festival. Even former Olivia Control Guy Bill Doss was in town; he's been playing in the current touring incarnation of Apples in Stereo, and though that band's new songs seem to be more straightforward lately, they're also drawing more attention than the band has had in years. And we'll also mention that Jason Isbell, not an Athens resident per se but familiar to us a member of the Drive-By Truckers, also performed a gig or two in Texas.

It was a moderate year for Athens bands, and one where a lot of talent remained under the radar, though acts like The Whigs and Dark Meat show that our home team can remain vital in a national setting. Hopefully higher-profile showcases for Athens bands next year, coupled with an increase in national attention on our town and its acts will show that 2007 was just a lull.

Chris Hassiotis

Get Out Your Glowsticks

Top Six Reasons Why South By Southwest Is Just A Big Rave

originally published March 21, 2007

1. Gear.

   People are dripping in laminated badges and wristbands and bags crammed with cameras, water, gum, tacos, cigarettes, free Sparks and presumably lots of drugs, judging from some of the more adventurous outfits. Naturally, thievery is rampant this time of year and you can't take your bag off, like, ever, so think about how many Sparks you really want to put in there before you dance.

2. Tents.

   When 1500 acts each perform four or five times for five days, there just aren't enough venues to accommodate them. Hence, bunches of tents crop up downtown to house all the music. Take your pick: Would you like to see The Black Lips? The Pipettes? VietNam? Dead Meadow? Well, just get in line, sister, and try to read some name from the door guy's clipboard, because you forgot to RSVP. Caution: There's no "chill-out" tent, only a puke-spattered curb on Red River to rest your weary head while some lady in a baseball hat hands you a promotional lo-carb Zone bar (which, oddly enough, really helps.)

3. DJs.

   You know, people in Austin don't typically line up to see DJs, but during SXSW folks will wait patiently to watch some boy play songs off his laptop. To wit: Girl Talk, The Rub, Flosstradamus, A-Trak, Simian Mobile Disco, Egyptian Lover, Diplo.

4. Neon.

   This year, neon t-shirts, foam neon baseball caps, neon Nikes, neon silly glasses, and glowing accessories (for serious) adorned a noticeable portion of the trendy youth gadding about. However, the baggy raver pants have been replaced by tiny tight jeans that look like leggings, seen even on dudes. Hell, especially on dudes. Boys, can we not find a happy medium for the cut of your pants? You're making us all uncomfortable.

5. The cops show up.

   All those supposedly "sick" afterparties sponsored by Dewar's and Vice and Mad Decent Records and IHeartComix? Totes got shut down, bro.

6. It does not end.

   Even on Sunday, there are still people milling around, looking confused and nursing four-day hangovers, with even more wristbands and free swag dragging from their exhausted, clammy bodies.

Mary Kimzey

The Who And The What

Flagpole Awards This Year's SXSW Artists

originally published March 21, 2007

Best Crowd Control

Dan Deacon

During Dan Deacon's unofficial set at Mrs. Bea's, he made the crowd form a circle ("NOT a semicircle! A real circle!"), hold hands, and chant the Lord's Prayer in unison (twice). Bossy, yes, but after two days of shuffling around trying to figure out what to do, it was kind of nice to be bossed, especially by a sweaty, hyper balding guy in glasses playing high-BPM thrash electro. He kept thanking the pogo-ing crowd for coming out to "the CMJ Music Marathon."

MVP Award

Yo Majesty

Hardcore Florida lesbionic electrocrunk outfit Yo Majesty was the name on everyone's lips from the get-go, and it was fun to go to all their shows during the week and watch the progressively more star-studded crowd bounce to bangers such as "Kryptonite Pussy" and "You Nasty, Girl."

Tallest Rat's Nest

Amy Winehouse

When she wasn't skulking around town looking hot and petulant, Amy Winehouse actually performed a few times. Despite rumors she had cancelled all of her shows due to "exhaustion," she played a triumphant show at the BBC night at La Zona Rosa. I could barely see her but I didn't care, because I was transfixed by her Sade-style male backup singers (in natty black suits and ties) smooth-bouncing like the Temptations.

Most Adorable Experimental Thrash Metal

Ponytail

Ponytail are from Baltimore, and tiny lead singer Molly Sigel looks like what 12-year-old girls used to look like before they all started wearing "69" T-shirts and buying Bratz dolls. She shrieks, squeals and coos over the bouncy, shredful guitars - much like you'd expect from someone singing for a band called Ponytail - but then you do a double take when she gets all guttural with some Cannibal Corpse death-metal growls.

Best Gimmicky Boy Band (Austin)

The Laughing

The four boys in The Laughing all wear matching white denim vests with turquoise shirts, shoes, bandanas, and face paint. Their album is called Tiger Cry ; accordingly, they keep a white plush tiger onstage while performing, and the lead singer really does sound like he's about to cry (and also like he's been OD'ing on the Cure). To round out their WTF?-pile of a band, they throw in some sleazy '90s live saxophone riffs just for good measure.

Best Gimmicky Boy Band (National)

Slim Moon & What Army

Here's a new twist on the boy band formula: 1. Let the pretty boys in the group be the backing band, and employ the one regular-looking dude as the front man, especially if he happens to be the founder of Kill Rock Stars records. 2. While all the cheerful young studs are smiling, singing in unison, blowing whistles, banging on rusty oil drums, beating on chairs with sticks, and attacking Korg keyboards, the lead singer chants, "I don't wanna play! Just wanna bang on my drum all day!" Using this blueprint, Slim Moon & What Army totally killed it at Mrs. Bea's on Wednesday afternoon. They ended their set standing in a New Kids On the Block clapping line, harmonizing their way through a 10-minute a capella bluegrass cover of "I Love Rock'n'Roll."

The Only Man Singing Boogaloo Through A Talk Box At SXSW As Far As I Know

Pee Thug of Chromeo

No more needs be said.

Best Lungs

The Lexie Mountain Boys

Baltimore's Lexie Mountain Boys perform all-female a capella tribal campfire noise rock in front of majestic hand-sewn mountainscape tapestries. Their only percussion is stomping and clapping while they chant like it's a summer solstice celebration/cult meeting. How do they chant a hardcore menstrual call-and response tone poem for half an hour without collapsing? How long did they have to practice? How did they make that five-foot-tall white fringed headdress crowned with two taxidermied doe and buck heads? Mountain Boy Amy Harmon explains: "People in Baltimore are very resourceful." Clearly.

Remainders

The Rest

Bonde do Role's crazy-like-a-fox Marina Ribatski strangling herself with the mic cord and straddling her bandmate (and cousin?) at the Fader Fort and NASA party on Thursday; deafening audience love for Amanda Blank rapping with Spank Rock at Red's Scoot Inn; ecstatic youth getting loose to the bleeps and bloops of Matt & Kim at Mrs. Bea's; a taut and over-the-top hardcore set by the Daughters at Creekside Lounge; and the guitarist for the Black Lips representing his area code with an Atlanta t-shirt and gold fronts at the Victory Grill.

Mary Kimzey