AUSTIN--Downtown Saturday night during SXSW is an extremely crowded
experience. While most of the designated performance venues had been fairly
accessible during the week, thousands of concert-going conventioneers were
now joined in the bars by college students returning from spring break and
scores of locals out for some weekend fun.
The net result of this convergence of discrete populations was a gathering of
tribes that was both formidable and daunting. I first thought I would escape
the downtown madness by hightailing it to the out-of-the-way Cactus Café on
the University of Texas campus for an intimate set by singer R.B. Morris. No
such luck. While I did make it into the Cactus without much trouble, the
small room was packed to the rafters to hear the singer-songwriter from
Knoxville.
Of course, the fact that whiz-bang guitarist Kenny Vaughn from Lucinda
Williams' band was playing with Morris made this show a much bigger draw--as
well as a much better concert. Singing songs from all three of his albums,
R.B.'s husky voice and backwoods poetry was truly fortified by Vaughn's
blistering blues-rock guitar style. Vaughn's invaluable guitar presence is
also felt on Morris' most recent album, "Zeke and the Wheel," and should not
be missed.
Feeling claustrophobic and hoping a change in scenery would make things more
enjoyable, I sped downtown toward La Zona Rosa and actually found a parking
spot. While I imagined that the spacious club would provide shelter and that
few people would actually come out to see The Legendary Stardust Cowboy, I
was forced to spend about twenty minutes in line with a bunch of John Paul
Jones fanatics. Yes, Led Zeppelin's former bass player was playing directly
after The Legendary Stardust Cowboy and La Zona Rosa was packed to the gills.
By the time I got in the door, The Legendary Stardust Cowboy was just
beginning his most unusual set.
I can't tell you who The Legendary Stardust Cowboy is, but I can say that he
has been on the periphery of show business for more than two decades and he's
out of his ever-loving mind. Dressed in a white cowboy suit and backed up by
a mixture of local musicians and some of John Paul Jones' crew, The Legendary
Stardust Cowboy hooted 'n' hollered in a totally unintelligible fashion.
Screaming, laughing and whooping it up like a drunken rodeo star, The
Legendary Stardust Cowboy rode his guitar like a bucking bronco while his
musicians churned out their fractured brand of country music. Nope, it
doesn't get any punker than this and while many people in the audience were
shaking their heads and wondering what the hell was going on, other onlookers
were laughing hysterically and whooping it up along with The Legendary
Stardust Cowboy.
I left La Zona Rosa well before The Legendary Stardust Cowboy had finished
his set, but soon regretted abandoning the psychotic performer as I stood in
another long line at Antone's to catch Vancouver's Neko Case. Case has been
touring bars and roadsides all over the continent for several years now and
her brand of high-lonesome corn pone is invigorated by a bracing, expressive
voice.
While her lovesick warble sometimes recalls a young Dolly Parton or a
punk-fueled Jeanie C. Reilly, Ms. Case is a straightforward singer-songwriter
with an energetic perspective on contemporary heartbreak. Her new album,
"Furnace Room Lullaby," takes a deceptively simple position: love stinks. To
be truthful, all I really wanted was for Neko to sing "Harper Valley PTA,"
but the Canadian chanteuse was not into an oldies-but-goodies trip by any
means.
By the time Ms. Case's set was over I was exhausted. So exhausted that I was
unable to leave Antone's at all. Standing fast, I watched a fantastic set by
Tucson's Calexico and hung on until 2:30 in the morning dancing to sounds of
The Mekons.
Although Welshman/Chicagoan Jon Langford must be credited for providing this
unusual group its guiding light, vocalist Sally Timms and guitarist/singer
Tom Greenhalgh rounded out the band's majestic nucleus. Along with other
longtime band members drummer Steve Goulding, accordion player Rico Bell and
Sara the bassist, the Mekons embrace English and American folk music, white
reggae and atmospheric rock with equal skill.
Playing songs from their new album, "Journey to the End of the Night," as
well as tunes from their illustrious two-decade career, The Mekons were
outrageously rude but engagingly musical. Challenging themselves to create
great art and provide decent entertainment while completely drunk, the band
relentlessly insulted the music industry and used urine jokes to enliven
their between-song patter.
Like any Mekons performance, this show was a compelling snapshot of a
philosophical band that easily could have called it quits years ago.
Personally, I'm glad they didn't but I couldn't last until the end of their
set, either. Instead, I headed to the one place I knew would not be crowded.
Home.
JOURNEY
TO THE END OF THE NIGHT