It doesn’t matter whether you’re the world’s biggest fan, an artist, or a semi-pro blogger, like just about anything in life, South By Southwest is what you make of it. Each year, the music industry invades Austin and holds what could be called the biggest multimedia talent show in the world. Bands with buzz, mega-stars, and fledgling indies alike find themselves mingling with all sorts of PR, A&R, and self-made critics in the hopes that perhaps they can redeem some street credibility or make themselves known. Whether it’s exposure or a good time that you’re seeking, there’s no disputing the fact that SXSW is the industry’s biggest and best coming out party.
In the weeks leading up to the festival, it became clear to me that it was too late to work a proper press pass and that I was too poor to procure one for myself. So as the schedule of shows began to take shape in late February, so did my anxiety. Countless lists, parties, and show announcements flooded my inbox, and I spent a ridiculous amount of time researching bands and putting together an extreme schedule for myself. There must have been at least a hundred shows on my list. But, without the right credentials, I couldn’t help but feel as though my efforts may be in vain.
I had to face the fact that my time at SXSW would be uncertain and that I needed to switch gears. So, take two, I decided to head to Texas stress-free, with my fingers crossed that I could weasel into a few decent shows. Armed with a point and shoot skinny enough to fit into the back pocket of my jeans, I was going to try to see what kind of trouble I could wrangle on my own without expectation. This ended up being pretty easy to manage given the insane amount of bands performing, enough free day parties to send even the most on-point PR guru into a tailspin, and more attractive people than necessary, all within a 10-block radius. Little did I know that all of my wildest “South-By†fantasies were about to come true.
A week later and I’m still gushing. I got to see my favorite band from the front row, landed in Texas plus one and ended up rolling 5 deep, rented a room in a stranger’s “4:20-friendly†home and didn’t care that I spent the week covered in Chihuahua hair and smelling like a limited edition Bath and Body Works fragrance, got stupid-silly-drunk and danced a lot, had VIP access for a private studio session with one of the most reclusive singers in music, and found a new band obsession who we saw two nights in a row. Who needs a press pass?
Day One: I arrived in Austin via Houston, dropped my stuff off at the house I was staying at, and checked the day’s lineup before heading down to 6th Street. The legendary Emo’s was my first stop. The place was teeming with greasy hipsters, metal dudes, hordes of hot and sticky Nikon-strapped lads and ladies, and was littered with PBR tallboys. While I had no idea who was on stage, I was content to spend my first stop absorbing the scene with a crispy-cool Stella in hand. There was so much to do, so much to see, and music coming at me from every direction.
While I wanted to stay to see Wavves, my only goal for the day was to see An Horse, an indie rock duo from Brisbane, and my new favorite band, perform at Maggie Mae’s Rooftop later that night. After catching a quick set by The Von Bondies at Red 7, I ran into an old friend on the street. We ended up sharing two bottles of Prosecco on her company card and then stumbling over to Maggie Mae’s hours before show time. While waiting, we checked out a set by Black Cherry, an unsigned electro-indie-rock outfit from Britain. With a slow rising dark swagger, peppered with elements of funk and dance-pop, Black Cherry were impressive. Front woman Megane Quashie, (think M.I.A. meets Lisa Stansfield) has a voice that is at times soulful and at others sinister, which complimented the band’s genre-fusing sound.
When Kate Cooper and Damon Cox of An Horse took the stage, my heart was racing. I knew I had to catch this band while I still had the chance. Recently signed to Mom & Pop Records, days after a stint on Letterman, and having been properly pimped by SPIN as a must-see SXSW pick, this band is blowing up as we speak. Their debut EP is filled with authentic lyrics that channel gut wrenching missed connections and an awkward kind of confessional ferocity. Bypassing the syrupy sound of traditional indie pop for more of an unrefined rock and roll feel, this band’s debut, Rearrange Beds, has had some serious play on my iPod upon discovering them in October of last year and they were every bit as good live. I was hardcore rocking the front row and didn’t stir even when I saw my friend, the one with the company card, being carried out of the bar by two bouncers with a glazed look in her eyes.
I stayed to see Hesta Prynn in Civil Sheperd (Hesta Prynn of Northern State) perform songs from her self-titled debut, featuring producer credits by Sara Quinn (Tegan and Sara). Not straying far from the ubiquitous sound of electro-pop at SXSW, Hesta Prynn added her own hip hop signature to the genre and rocked a solid set that got the late night crew at Maggie Mae’s jumping like Kris Kross had just entered the room. After Hesta’s set I was ready to return to my dog hair infested cave and crash. Mission complete. I saw An Horse. I was happy.
Day 2: My second day in Austin got off to a bit of a rough start thanks to the heavy- handed vodka seltzers being poured at Maggie Mae’s the night before. I didn’t let this stop me though. I was there to see music, not to sloth around in bed all day watching cable. I learned on day one that the key to seeing bands you really want to see is to get to the spot early, so I narrowed down my list to just a handful of shows. After picking up a wingman from my ‘hood who also happened to be in Austin for South By, we attempted to truck it to the Urban Outfitters Back Lot party where Crystal Stilts, Abe Vigoda, Vivian Girls, and Titus Andronicus among others were scheduled to play. It turned out that the venue was far too many blocks from 6th, and without a cab in sight, we ended up turning around after over an hour of walking in the relentless sun.
We ended up at this random Punk barbershop at the top of a hill. My friend commented that perhaps we had just stumbled upon the underbelly of SXSW. BMX bikes and a crazy dancing fool with big giant boom box adorned the exterior of the shop, inside amongst the mullets, mohawks, and braided tails were turntables and libations. I never figured out what was being promoted but it was too steamy to stay long enough to find out. Instead, we decided to follow the sounds of hardcore music coming from across the street to a bar where they were grilling in the backyard.
After refueling with burgers and beer, we hit the road again. We didn’t care much about being shut out of Grizzly Bear at the Central Presbyterian Church because taking top spot on our agenda for the night was Tigercity, a Brooklyn-based funky, electro-pop quartet that channel the slinky, synthy-sounds of Hall and Oates and Prince while rocking geodes around their necks. These guys have quickly become my new obsession. The band, which claims to be un-ironic in their love and pursuit of all things sexy and smooth, had me unable to deny my inner soul child on the tiny, narrow dance floor at Barcelona. After a few false starts, we hit our stride and day two ended up being just the kind of night I needed.
Day 3: My last day in Austin proved to be the best by far. In fact, I want say it was the greatest 24 hours of my life, but I think I’m still buzzing. Here’s what happened. My buddy had heard a rumor that PJ Harvey and M. Ward were playing somewhere a little outside of town on Congress. By this time, we had figured out that it was more fun to rock without a solid plan, so without hesitation, we jumped in a cab and decided to check it out.
We got dropped off at ME Studios, a public access television network. ME was hosting Seattle-based radio station KEXP, which was broadcasting live from SXSW all week. We showed up on the last day of the broadcast when Andrew Bird, Peter Bjorn and John, PJ Harvey, and M. Ward were scheduled to perform. While most attendees waited in line outside the venue, under the beat of the Southern sun, we walked in and acted like we belonged, just as my brilliant and fearless friend suggested. We ended up hanging out at the open bar, mingling with industry execs, taking in the view of downtown Austin from the roof deck in between shows, and got our hands on a VIP Pass. Turns out we were able to just walk right up to the front row of the performance space before they were even done sound checking. I don’t know how it happened, but we made it happen and this is one time in my life when I don’t feel guilty for not following the rules.
Peter Bjorn and John debuted songs from their much anticipated follow up to Writer’s Block entitled Living Thing, slated for release tomorrow, March 31st. Their set was a quirky, head-bopping romp. After a short break, we stood in awe as we watched PJ Harvey take the stage in front of no more than 50 of us. As a longtime fan of the notoriously private Polly Jean, I couldn’t believe that I was seeing her so close, seeing her process, and watching her bring new songs from her upcoming album, A Man a Woman Walked By, to life right in front of us. It was somewhat of a religious experience for me as I think it was for most people in the room who didn’t utter a single word throughout the set. We watched her step into character and hold what could have possibly been a séance where she called the soul of her songs to the stage.
It was clear from the intensity of her performance and the intimacy of the setting that we were privy to something extraordinary that day. After PJ, we saw M. Ward perform. It was getting late at that point and the crowd had thinned out. There were probably only 30 people in the room. If I wasn’t a fan of his Americana infused country-folk before this performance, I became one by the end. Just a man and his guitar, with his hat-tipped down low, we barely caught a glimpse of his face as he shared a collection of songs that spanned his entire catalog. Again, we felt like we had won the biggest prize of SXSW. Seeing M. Ward perform is like being around a campfire with someone who’s singing your history and telling your fortune all at the same time.
We were flying high as we left ME studios that night. All of our SXSW expectations had been blown away by what we walked into and there really wasn’t anything else I felt I had to see after that, except of course another Tigercity show where we danced with triumph for the second night in a row. Our SXSW adventure wrapped at the Semi Precious Weapons show at 1 AM. I believe that this was my first mosh pit experience and I think I did pretty well for a girl barely reaching 5 feet, until an extremely large dude rammed into me from behind and tried to take down the lead singer. I gladly stepped aside after that and enjoyed the band and all of their fabulous glam-rockness from the periphery.
My South By crew and I didn’t want the night to end even though we were pretty beat. It had been such a perfect day. We tried getting a hotel room to finish off the festival like true rock stars, picturing champagne, a hot tub, and all of us in white hotel robes, talking about how cool we were and how amazing our day was, but everything was booked. Instead, we ended up having an old-school slumber party and crashing extremely hard on an air mattress.
When I woke up in the morning, I was still giddy. While I was sad to leave Austin and secretly wished that everyday could just be about seeking out music and good times, I couldn’t have written a better time if I tried.
South By Southwest: website
