| South by Southwest Recap, by Alternative Amy |
Well, SxSW is over and done with, but boy did I have myself an awesome time! This year was my first South by experience and the festival more than exceeded expectations. As opposed to CMJ, which had me running all over NYC, Austin closes off Red River and 6th Street, allowing hoards and hoards of indie rock-kids, punks, musicians, journalists, transients, metal-heads, hip-hop-heads, and neo-hippies to wander easily and in large clumps. Austin certainly served as the ideal playground for assiduous music fanatics, as groups or sole individuals could pop in and out of seemingly endless strips of bars, pubs, clubs, venues, rooftops, lawns, patios, and parks night after night as they saw fit. All of this guaranteed a greater sense of community than the likes of CMJ could conjure: a community that is both integral to Austin's already inherent music scene and completely separate from it, seeing as how (I'd bet) more than half of South by goers are not actually Texan, and neither are the bands.  Due to my grad school lit class Wednesday night, I didn't arrive in Austin until Thursday afternoon, thereby missing out on one full day of music. However, I got my hands dirty on Red River as soon as I scored my magical wristband (secondary to badges, but nearly as good). First up on my must-see list for the night was Mason Jennings. He's a little too mellow-hippie-folk for my tastes, but he served as a big inspiration to Spencer Bell, a good friend of mine who passed away in 2006, and was playing along with other riot-folk-esque artists on a large stage outdoors in the back of Stubb's. The night was called "Body of War" and featured political folk acts assumably put together by Tom Morello, formerly of Rage Against the Machine and Audioslave. I caught a few pretty, acoustic songs by Ben Harper and then Morello performed several songs of peace, including one that was written during slavery. He then invited plenty of other artists to accompany him, such as Harper, Kimya Dawson, Brett Dennen, Billy Bragg, and Jennings, and they played an enthusiastic version of "This Land is My Land" as the final song of their collective set, which really got the crowd singing and jumping up and down. Before Mason Jennings' solo set, I darted into Emo's just down the street, which is a charming and rather small bar/venue that actually feels very Avenue A. Le Loup was playing there; according to their website, they are "not so much a group of musicians as [they are] a collective of talented young artists and entrepreneurs scattered across the East Coast." Whatever they are, their carefree electronica meets punk rock formula, rife with co-existing vocals, keys, and dancey beats, was absolutely tantalizing, and I'd have to say that I enjoyed their set more than any of the others I saw that night. They were clearly influenced by a variety of sounds, yet concocted something fresh and alive. Whichever male member was leading the pack on the mic boasted a contagious amount of passion. After their final unified "oooh-ahh-oooh," I headed back to Stubb's for Mason Jennings, who performed with calmed maturity and ease, particularly during his romantic single, "Be Here Now." I had planned to check out Genghis Tron, but they were so noisy and ferocious that I settled for listening to them beyond the gates of the outdoor veranda where they played. I headed to Mohawk's Patio and stood on the porch-balcony for the venue's final three sets: Bon Iver, Jens Lekman, and Black Mountain. The first of these was mildly disappointing, but the second, whom I didn't even know before that night, was highly enjoyable and quite catchy: vocalist/guitarist Lekman is a Swedish pop performer who was accompanied by a female cellist and violinist, and the standard percussion and bass. At one point, all of the musicians put out their arms and pretended to fly around the stage...how cute! Black Mountain came on at 1am, and the body language/on-stage presence of lead singer Amber Webber was, unfortunately, that of the rather bored and energy-deficient variety (perhaps in a jaded Interpol way?). However, her powerful, oscillating voice carried every song and stood at the core of their music. Black Mountain is Ray Menzarek of The Doors times the metal riffs of Black Sabbath plus stoned Grace Slick minus Woodstock plus darker Yes plus a dash of The Church of Satan and supplemented by Jodorowsky's Holy Mountain. Perhaps the most incredible aspects of their majestic set came when Webber was standing idly at the center, allowing her male band members to completely take over, engulfing the audience in tidal waves of lengthy and loud, anarchic, prog-rock masterpieces. Friday was another solid day of music. During the sunny hours, I attended a house party hosted by Diesel U Music. A uniquely decorated stage (with a big armadillo) had been set up in the backyard, which extended to a pond and various benches, play equipment, and even a fenced animal pen. Some of the bands included Two Gallants, Peggy Sue & The Pirates, The Heavy, Trainwreck Riders, The Morning Benders, and various local acts; and though I don't even know which band I ended up watching, I was definitely into their punkish Southern-rock sound and excited attitude. As various partially-clothed people sat on the grass in 90 degree weather consuming free beer, barbecue meat and homemade salsa, the entire party felt inviting and extremely Texan! Friday night began for me on the dirt behind Stubb's again, where I caught the infectious Brooklynite called Santogold. She's an African-American, East Coast version of M.I.A, with subtle Nelly Furtado and even Tegan and Sara attributes. However, by fusing reggae, hip-hop, club, R&B, and Caribbean and African drumming, Santogold creates a delicious brand of shiny, funky pop that is very much her own. She performed in front of a DJ and in the middle of two backup singers/dancing, who donned colorful baggy pants and plastic sunglasses, while Santogold herself bounced around in a loose tanktop, pants, and sneakers; I found these three strong black females very inspiring. Next, I made my way closer for another Brooklyn band, MGMT. As expected, these "psychic pilgrims" took the stage wearing head scarves and '70s rockstar-meets-American Apparel attire...thankfully, their groovy music matched. I have to admit, I fell a bit in love with vocalist/guitarist Andrew VanWyngarden as he lead the now-full band of boys behind him. The crowd was thrilled when they played "Electric Eel" mid-set, and if MGMT didn't already have a lot of fans, they certainly made some more loyal ones there. I popped back into Mohawk's for another late-night triple set. Be Your Own Pet , a youthful Nashville punk-rock foursome, jumped onto stage and dove into their set full of unrelenting energy. Bleach-blond lead singer Jemina Pearl, with painted stripes on both cheeks and wearing black spandex pants and high-top Converse, flew her small body across the stage, covering every square inch, while guitarist Jonas Stein performed many a cheerleader-style jump. After a few songs, they literally broke the PA system, and the generator that supplied power to the entire stage had to be re-juiced for about twenty minutes. While everyone waited, Pearl entertained the crowd by bouncing around like an ADHD-riddled child, showing us her tiger tattoo, and raving about John Waters' Polyester. Finally, it was back to business, and the band returned with even more energy. Pearl climbed onto the shoulders of a large male she invited on stage, Stein jumped into the audience and allowed enthralled young girls to throw themselves onto him, and Pearl writhed around on the floor, tearing down an amp and squirming out from under it. The gears changed with the next two performers, the legendary J Mascis, of Dinosaur Jr., and Thurston Moore, of Sonic Youth. Be Your Own Pet is actually on Moore's label, Ecstatic Peace, and their new album was just released. After all of their sweaty antics, J Mascis, with his signature long gray hair and large eyeglasses, sat serenely on a folding chair and revved up his plugged-in acoustic guitar. How someone can make the music that Mascis creates using only his gravely voice and nimble fingers is mind-bending, and the audience watched in utter amazement as the alternative-rock expert layered guitar melodies on top of one another, playing and harmonizing over himself until the sound nearly broke at its seams. He barely looked up or acknowledged anyone as he conducted song after song and performed some of the most amazing guitar solos I have encountered live; his stripped-down set and simple demeanor allowed for one to gaze at his hands without any of the rock-star glamour one usually associates with such soloing. Thurston Moore and his bassist, drummer, and violinist came on next. The violinist was actually solo artist Samara Lubelski, who herself performed a few sets at South by, and whom I knew from having worked with at Kim's Video last year. The band performed songs from Moore's new album, Trees Outside the Academy, which I have previously reviewed. Strings and acoustic guitars play important roles in defining this album, as witnessed especially in the stunning “The Shape Is In A Trance;" such composition and instrumental expansion serves Moore’s melodies well and his songs are powerful yet delicate, vibrant yet restrained. Moore is an alt-rock god for a reason, and watching him perform two feet in front of me confirmed everything I ever thought about him: that he has made his mark on the world of rock n’ roll, that the genres of avant-garde, experimental, post-punk, and grunge all apply to his musical experience and, consequently, Sonic Youth’s influence on indie rock, which is limitless. Moore and co. ended up performing not one but two encores to appease the enthusiastically applauding and screaming crowd. For one of these, Moore played an old Velvet Underground song after a verbal introduction that explained how much he likes Lou Reed. At the very end of the song, he pushed his guitar into the crowd, allowing myself and the others up front to beat at, strum, and molest the instrument, which actually got lost in the hands of the audience until he reeled it back in. This show was the highlight of the entire festival for me! Saturday, I was back at Mohawk's during the early afternoon for two bands I absolutely adore, and who also fit together perfectly. The first was Film School, from California; I also previously reviewed them and saw the band play Mercury Lounge in February. The interesting thing about this five-piece is that they translate to the stage quite differently than to record. Some might define them as modern shoegaze, with freely escaping soundwaves and poignant resonance à la noise-rock; their latest effort, Hideout, is an all-out escape from reality, perfectly balancing instrumental ambience with humming vocals that fade in and out. But, though their albums brim with reverberation via textured pedal effects, they are much more traditionally rock and roll live, when their post-punk dreaminess becomes highly charged and incredibly effective, and when brainchild Greg Bertens lets his guitar carry his body up and down. Basically, what I'm trying to say is, they know how to rock out when need be. Up next was another post-punk, avant-garde wonder, A Place to Bury Strangers, whose Brooklyn loft I was invited into when I interviewed them for a previous issue of Beyond Race. Singer/guitarist Oliver Ackermann's vocals bleed into the backdrop of well-maintained distortion and fast-paced drums. They have opened for the likes of Jesus and Mary Chain and My Bloody Valentine and have been tagged as “the loudest band in New York," which is quite obvious! By the near-end of the set, Ackermann was pulling all of the strings out of his busted-up guitar and tossing it around the stage. He then picked up a shinier red guitar as the other sat bruised and used on the floor...what a rush! Though I had wanted to see Goes Cube, another band I have interviewed for Beyond Race, I needed a little break and didn't get to check them out. I did see Crystal Castles on the Wave Rooftop, which was packed! Though it was nice to see the moon above me, this venue didn't quite support the many people attempting to squish together. Crystal Castles came on in their signature hooded sweatshirts (though I could barely see them) and squeaky vocalist Alice Glass darted around. Just as I was really getting into their danceable beats mixed with old-school arcade game sound bites, Glass' voice came piercing through; I couldn't sink my teeth into it, and headed to Austin's goth club, Elysium, for Japan Nite part 2. The spacious, colorful dancefloor was filled with enthusiastic South by goers who raised many a metal-hand to The Emeralds, a Japanese rock and roll trio who seems to have learned the ways of rock by watching This is Spinal Tap one too many times. Nevertheless, they were tight, catchy, and just plain fun in all of the ways retro rock should be. The Pillows, who actually played their first ever US show at SxSW in 2005, closed out the night. Another Japanese trio, these guys were less slick than The Emeralds, but still really amusing to watch, and the crowd loved them. As my eardrums continue to recover, and as my right wrist now feels a little too naked, all I can think about is next year's South by festival. Too bad there are so many months in between. -Amy Dupcak
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