The Independent Weekly’s words+ on music
Is that all there is? (PJ Harvey)
No matter how I tried to pace myself, my Saturday became a gauntlet. By drifting to whatever show seemed semi-interesting and close enough to walk to, I somehow saw more bands than all previous days combined. Inevitable schedule delays meant I saw a lot more sets than I’d intended, and most of the time, that was a great thing.
As mentioned by my comrades here in Austin, hanging your hat on a few must-see bands at festivals as large as SXSW is preferable to running yourself ragged trying to catch everything. I’ve done my best to keep my schedule loose and hope the wind takes me toward some new and interesting bands—one of which was the charming weird pop of Woods, who play a warped and loping brand of folk that’s still wholly accessible and melodic, and another was Pictureplane, who I describe a little more below. But even the unofficial parties at SXSW seem dominated by acts who consistently tour nationally, and admittedly, the few must-sees I’ve picked are artists I’m going to be seeing again, possibly in a few months. Continue reading »
The barrage of showcases and parties of SXSW are easy to navigate and choose between so long you’re not being lied to, which is all the time. Start times for the sets? More of a guideline. RSVP? Whatever. Enjoy that line down the block. Free food? Sorry, all out. Free booze? We’re all out of that, too, or wait for the promo girls to hand it out, or I wouldn’t know anything about that, I’m just a bartender. Special guests? Yeah, they can come out perform one song, as I learned last night at Austin Music Hall. So when “Daniel Johnston and the Hymns” started their set with two Johnston-less Hymns songs, I was ready to weep into my four-dollar beer.
But Johnston did indeed come out, as promised.
Still showing up: Daniel Johnston
It’s hard to imagine what South By Southwest must feel like for the natives of Austin: They probably don’t embrace shutting down the streets of downtown and the noise and traffic that results. I don’t see anyone without a badge or wristband at any of the showcases, official or otherwise, nor anyone who doesn’t look like a tourist here for the weekend. But Austin has music in its DNA, and you can’t help but notice it just from wandering around the city streets. The trendy restaurants west of the chaos along 6th street all book their own live music that you can hear as you pass by, seeming almost like an answer to the festival. And, oh, the panhandlers: I saw two bluegrass/country bands on one single block of 6th street, not to mention a full-blown virtuoso of the recorder playing a Celtic tune (“Is that a fucking bagpipe?” asked a passing drunk) and a highly spirited rendition of “Don’t Let the Sun Go Down on Me” by a man sitting at a bus stop.
But on Wednesday night, the locals had Austin Music Hall.
Continue reading »
