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| Photos by Mark the Cobrasnake |
MY EYES ARE BLEEDING!
Attending SXSW is like having sex, running a marathon or smoking pot: The first time is never the best. Gaffe#1:I forgot earplugs. Austin’s soundmen are stone deaf, and the noise levels in the dive bars here will make your eyeballs ache. This was fine on Thursday, my first day, when I was young and the world was new. That day, it felt right to be drunk and walk the streets in a throng of teetering indie rockers, dropping into random bars to pee. One pit stop presented a full-bodied mixture of metal and punk with a melodic core that said, “We’re humans, too” — which turned out to be Helmet, shooting a documentary. Thursday also offered a winning Q&A with RobertPlant,who said he’d donated to a Portland NPR station that promised never to play “Stairway to Heaven.” Stopped in to see my L.A. friends Tsarat the TVTRecordsparty at the HardRock,where decibels matched the band’s just-got-signed, arena-rock/punk-pop shock-and-awe agenda in a pleasing way: Thisisgonnabeagreatfestival!I thought. Labelmates TheBlueVan,from Danmark (that’s Denmark to you and me), were also impressive, with Zombies-style organ, McCartneyesque bass and all kindsa harmonies. And sorry for all the nepotism, but at the VillageVoice/L.A. Weekly party, a dark-haired boy-girl guitar duo with a drum machine made everyone stop and go, “Who’s this band?” (It was the U.K.’s TheKills.Watch out, Karen O: This girl is just as hot, just as bothered — and she’s got an ax!)
Gaffe#2:Instead of seeing Robert Plant perform, I opted for TheFrenchKicks— who made a soothing lullaby for me and another girl crashed out on an incredibly fluffy couch. This fortified me for my mission: TeganandSaraat 1 a.m. Alas, even the wonder twins seemed SXSW-weary by then: After “Walking With a Ghost” Sara remarked, “Thank you — I think.” The crowd lacked proper respect for the alien-orchid rarity of T&S: With the acoustic/electric guitar fulcrum, the sibling harmonies, the new-wave organ, the pop hooks and dark lyrics — these girls have it all. By Friday afternoon, the street vibe had switched to post-debauched. At the AussieBBQ,ThePandaBandwere clearly pouring out heartfelt power pop, but many festivalgoers were pooped out on the grass. I tried to watch BenLee,but couldn’t get through a minute of his sugar-folk before a dark and cynical voice from within declared: icky sticky. While watching Radio4,that same voice bitched: trendy bullshit. Drums from The Strokes, clothes from The Knack, songs from Gang of Four and bongos from T. Rex — is there one single original thing about this band? Is this how it felt to watch the Swinging Blue Jeans in 1966?
Gaffe#3:I peaked too soon. Eventually, physical exhaustion destroys musical appreciation. I couldn’t bear another Strat, but craved samba, jazz, African music — anything played with animal parts. Three options: Beer, coffee or hotel bed. I chose the last, missing IanHunter,TheCrimea,TheNewYorkDolls,TheFrames,TheMaeShi,DiosMalos,TheLikeand NonaHendryx— all people I would pay to see on any other night. Sometimes, you’ve got to say no to live music, and yes to VH1’s “100 Most Metal Moments.”
—Kate Sullivan
PAYNE IN THE SXSW
At SXSW, there’s always too much choice, so I say screw the plan and wander around. A drop-in at Los Manitos got me a set by somebody called
NelsAndrewsand his band from
El Paso. They’re typical of a lot of heartland indie types, just real plain folkie-rock, dripping with frankness and looking like they just rolled out of bed. These particular slobs were behind even the folkie curve, where the very best of the songwriting sad sacks are messing with the form and sound a bit. Sauntered into the Cedar Street Court to catch L.A.’s
AnubianLights,which is
TommyGrenasfrom the more psychedelic
Farflungin his nuevo new wave mode. Anubian features an adequate female singer, a guitarist-bassist and a synth/vocoder/drum-machine guy, in black-and-white suits and ties, etc. The songs are perky, as required, early-’80s dancey stuff, albeit with twists — like the singer yelling through an electric bullhorn on a quirky ’20s/R&B hybrid.
NordicNiteat The Drink was authentic fun: The Swedes in attendance displayed much mojo circa 1973, all these vertical-striped loon pants and white belts, Frampton shags and mascara.
Finland’s
TheCrashbashed out a stream of endearing but not cloying pop songs, made memorable by colorful arrangements and sturdy melodies. Much-hyped
TheArkevinced a manufactured aura, and the lead singer, with his huffy little pouts and purses and rouge, uh, he made you hate him a little bit. Crisp Status Quo riffage and anthems, however, from this band, whose
Nigel Tufnel–look-alike guitarist added visual splendor to their Sweet/Dolls/T. Rex–style rock.
JohnCaleplayed
LaZonaRosato a packed house of reverent cultists and their clones, with Cale, as always, tense and wry as he set about cudgeling his songs. He grabbed his viola for the Velvets’ “Venus in Furs,” and “Fear” ended once again with Cale descending into madness, that shtick where he pummels his keyboard and his young, tough band gets violent. Up next, Austin’s own
Spoon,whom I’ve long resisted because of the seemingly uncritical raves they’ve gotten but whose singer-guitarist,
BrittDaniel,I concede, has written at least one song that completely does the job on me, called “Me and the Bean,” a ruff-tuff heart-tugger that makes me wanna bawl like a baby.
Isisat
Emo’sannexwere like a black-metal band playing the Hawkwind songbook, and they did this eerie thing with extended passages of “interval music,” like you’ve got to travel through space a bit to get to the next song, broken into by peculiar riffs and the infrequent cookie-monster vocal. They stand out ’cause they’re twisting the genre, in fact presenting a kind of high-art music subtly disguised as goth/metal.
“We are all-girl band from
Japan” dept.: At the stinkily crowded
Beerland,another extremely irritating but in this case awesomely precise group called
GitogitoHustlerscreeched and bashed their mosquitolike punk rock and milked their theoretically charming lack of English for all the geekboys looking right up their skirts.
TheMusicat
LaZonaRosa:no discernible music as such. Way overpraised and promoted, their “intense” emotion-ladling in front of an
MTV banner over two-generations-removed riffing and flailing was just NUMBING. The crowd whooped and hollered, but what are they gonna do, boo? Not at SXSW.
