Wendy GilmartinVideo by: moreinthemonitor
On the first (official) day of SXSW, hipsters awoke to news that Jack White had sprung from a moving truck around noon and played a solo set to a shocked crowd of onlookers, which coincidentally also included celebrities like Aziz Ansari and Alison Mosshart from the Kills:
Through out the day Jack's ThirdManRRS tweets kept coming, announcing where the “Third Man Truck” (a food truck-type pop-up shop conversion selling LPs and posters from White's Third Man label) might show up next. Jack would be popping out to play at every other stop or so.
Free beer and Toronto's John O'Regan drew a substantial afternoon crowd with his solo outfit Diamond Rings. O'Regan's D.I.Y. flare, rail thin statuesque-ness and doll make up make him a show-stopper even without the amp turned on.
Diamond Rings; Credit: photo by Wendy Gilmartin
San Fran's Ivy League-thugs Anticon presented their record label's showcase of artists to slaughtered ears for a good three and a half hours later in the day. Featuring loads of skinny dudes in baseball caps with glasses, standouts included the quaking roar of bass master low limit, and needling melodica of DJ Soda Pop. Next door on the patio, Freddie Gibbs and Co. threw down a heavy helping of gangsta soul.
Before Phoenix there was Tahiti 80; Credit: photo by Wendy Gilmartin
A more tidy crowd was out to witness the French invasion of 6th street, where skinny dudes with accents ruled. On the upstairs patio, the tiny stage made for an at-times-cramped coziness but the crowd hunkered down for a few hours of mostly easy on the ears power pop, with some droning-thrash compliments of Yeti Lane and grimy funk a la The Inspector Cluzo (the original French bastards), who were selling – wait for it – Berets at the merch table. Tahiti 80 debuted most of their new album, The Past, The Present & The Possible, which continues to churn out capable, bootie- shaking, disco-lite gems.
Daxx Riggs; Credit: photo by Wendy Gilmartin
Austin homeboy Daxx Riggs kept burning down the barn long after last call with his steady and solid dark-blues rumble. With a howl that could summon the devil himself, Riggs really let his inner hellfire fly on tunes like “I Hear Satan” and “Living is Suicide.” Riggs has managed to hit a sweet spot between the Stooges' punk crunch and Sabbath's stoner-metal heaviness (sans the noodling) – on “Use Me Like a Cigarette” he's channeling Iggy, Lemmy and Ozzy simultaneously. Rigg's growling and wrestling with each song is an exciting exorcism to watch take him over on the stage. Jack White may be able to sell past-due Raconteurs records for $50 a pop out of his big yellow truck, but Daxx's got what Jack lost years ago – a thrilling bluesy darkness that's not complicated by stylized caricature.
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