AUSTIN--With all of the attendees present by Thursday, the SXSW festival
really begins in earnest. Everywhere you look someone is adorned with the red
festival badge, which gains you access to most of the convention events and
shows. Music is pouring out of clubs as early as noon as bands try to squeeze
a short set into every conceivable time slot. There's no practical strategy
to club-hopping. Shows are scattered all over town, so you have to struggle
to catch at least a portion of each desired event.
Word begins to spread about shows that could be too crowded to comfortably
see. Artists such as The Jayhawks and Steve Earle have large enough
followings to make even a typical concert night pretty tight, let alone one
hyped by the concentrated excitement of SXSW. Fortunately some of SXSW's
biggest draws could be seen in more accessible, albeit less musical,
surroundings. Earle gave the festival's keynote address Thursday morning to
a mostly packed auditorium, though the country maverick's fifteen-minute
speech left the audience hanging.
Since emerging from a drug-related jail stint in the early nineties and
recording some of the strongest music of his career, Earle's profile has
changed from an outlaw to a politically active music historian. Earle had no
shortage of outrage for the music industry, and his address stressed how hard
it has been in the past for him to make the music he wanted to make before he
briefly moved on to broader issues such as the death penalty and the
proliferation of land mines.
Later during an onstage interview, punk legend Patti Smith was far more
explicit in her disdain for some of the more commercial aspects of rock 'n'
roll, though she did exclude her heroes Bob Dylan and the Rolling Stones from
the discussion. Yet the frazzled and nervous Smith shed little light on the
miraculous sustenance of her own 25-year career, which has survived numerous
deaths, tragedies and passing trends. Elsewhere, at an outdoor party that
also featured the eerie country jazz of Shivaree, Leeds' The Mekons showed
how its own 20-plus years of dubious dealings with the music business has
only made it stronger.
As the sun set and ominous storm clouds moved in--a tornado watch was briefly
in effect--everyone nonetheless was ready for night number two. Weather be
damned, it's difficult to resist the pull of good music. The Bloodshot
Records showcase began early and took up two stages. It was surreal to see
the label's mostly Midwestern stable of alt.country acts performing in a city
where country is the norm and everything else is the alternative. But,
predictably, the rollicking Riptones, The Unholy Trio, and their labelmates
seemed perfectly comfortable performing in such a strong rebel country
enclave.
At the completely opposite end of the spectrum was the Welsh outfit Gorky's
Zygotic Mynci, a band whose eclectic songcraft could best be described as
David Bowie meets Brian Wilson. Despite its relatively shy disposition and
some minor technical glitches, the group gelled once the music began. Its
psychedelic arrangements and reserved stage presence stood in stark contrast
to the preceding set by New Wet Kojak, a black-clad Girls Against Boys
spinoff that was all too happy to rip off The Fall and probably pretentious
enough to think it was doing a better job.
A few blocks over, Philadelphia's Marah was demonstrating its growth from a
wild bar band to a somewhat more mature roots rock outfit. Of course, the
group hasn't really mellowed that much, and Marah played like it had just
learned the joys of electric guitar. The band's passionate set demonstrated
real star power, and the members of Marah--their breath visible in the
surprising cold--effortlessly had the crowd dancing on the muddy natural
floor of Stubb's.
Rumors began to circulate that the special guest on the Stubb's bill was some
huge star, a Lucinda Williams or even Neil Young. When Whiskeytown's Ryan
Adams and singer Kim Richey emerged for a brief acoustic set, the energy
level of the crowd dropped off and the night chill began to kick in.
Thankfully the topper was Earle himself, previewing material from his
upcoming independently released album.
Despite the weather's downturn and the toll of too much music/food/beer in
too little time, smiles were abundant throughout Austin. The important thing
to remember amidst all the hoopla is just how much fun the festival is
designed to be. Though 7,000 registrants are on hand, there are hundreds of
other random festival-goers from around the country also excited about the
options that abound. And while the specter of commerce continues to loom over
the showcases and convention panels, it still all boils down to the music,
which is, safe to say, strong as ever.
COUNTRY
COUSINS