SXSW 2009 JOURNAL. PART TWO.

Day Three. Give Them Enough Rope.

Ruiner, Red 7.
I know this photo is kind of shit, but for some reason I like it.

On day three, I planned to see a few more of the unofficial shows during the day, as by this stage they had proved to be where the gold was. Shirts For A Cure (a charity company involving punk and metal bands to raise money for cancer research) where holding a show with The Bouncing Souls headlining. I needed to get over to see M. Ward as well on this day, but I caught Ruiner and Darkest Hour. If I could only choose one word to describe Ruiner, it would be fast. If I had more, I would say sweaty, angry and intense. Their vocalist made his spiel about the woes of SXSW, and made some good points in terms of what this particular show was in aid of, and whether he had intended to or not pointed out some fundamental flaws in the way the music industry (or music industries operate). In the middle of this conference/festival was one little show with a dedicated focus and noble cause, all the while around it were people concerned with finding the next acts to build their business and make them money. Darkest Hour let their politically charged death-thrash speak for itself. With a new guitarist, they definitely haven’t lost any of their charisma onstage, however I can’t say they have drastically changed or improved since I saw them in Australia a few years ago.

M. Ward, La Zona Rosa.

Over on the other side of town (and this was when I realised just how much walking today was going to involve) I walked into something entirely different. The venue in which M. Ward was playing was nothing like how I had imagined seeing him play. It was a huge room, crowded with people whose intentions in being there I just couldn’t tell. It seemed like a huge corporate function, however the types there didn’t necessarily give off that same vibe. Either way, M. Ward’s intimate and incisive style didn’t seem to connect like it should and could in this venue. Without a doubt he played an amazing set, of mainly old songs, maybe to throw off a crowd that was expecting the bulk of songs to be from his latest album Hold Time. Sad Sad Song (from his debut) was most definitely a highlight. He left the stage earlier than planned and I honestly do not blame him.

Trash Talk, Club 1808.

After this it was on to my next trek – to the eastern neighborhood and a tiny club called 1808, about an hour’s (or so) walk from where I already was. The trip was definitely worth it, as I got to see Pygmylush (the remnants of ‘90s best hardcore bands such as P. 99 and Majority Rule) and Trash Talk (Sacramento’s greatest thrash-punk destroyers). Pygmylush were a band I never in my wildest dreams thought I would get to see, and they played an ambient set of country and folk with some experimentation in between, and it was, for lack of a better word, perfect. Trash Talk was also perfect, in a totally different and ugly-as-fuck way. A huge dustcloud was present for the duration of their set as kids essentially exploded as each song began. Their songs are short enough that they provided a good cross section of all their releases, including one song off their new East Of Eden EP. They shun the standard metal sound and go for a more lush, but still heavy sound based in tone rather than gain, with a spread of vintage and custom gear. Vocalist Lee was very rarely on the stage, making the spectators just as much a part of the band as the four official members. Trash Talk are a band that need to be seen live, and as I am from Australia, I am urging anyone who is also to go see them when they tour out there soon.

Cage, venue unknown.

The end of Trash Talk’s set was my cue to walk back downtown. On my way there, I realised that I was walking right past the venue where one of my all time favourite rappers was playing. Completely by chance I got to see Cage performing with his guitarist Sean Martin (ex-Hatebreed) and his DJ Big E (who I am only familiar with from the live version of Converge's Locust Reign and the Every Time I Die DVD). He played a set comprised of entirely new (and very exciting) material, which he had assured me prior to his set that was extremely different to what he played when he visited Brisbane a couple of years ago. This proved to be true, and it was fresh and original and still clung true, lyrically, to what Cage has always been known and loved for - aggressive, introspective and at times extremely vulnerable. The trio incorporated the punk/hardcore influence in an original way that didn't just seem like a bad hip-hop mash up. Any fans of Cage should be very excited about his new album.

Kylesa, Red 7.

After I had caught my breath, I continued on to the venue where two cult metal acts were scheduled to get real. The first was the epic and revered Kylesa. Two drummers and three sets of vocal chords and a whole lot of heavy, they took the stage as a viking army would take a castle, and the set was everything their records would suggest. Dirty, sweaty, crushing and at times hypnotising. The second band I was seeing here tonight was the far younger but no less accomplished Skeletonwitch, who take elements from a range of metallic styles (death, black, thrash) and make it something entirely their own, with a good sense of tongue in cheek humour to go along with it. Their set was complete with deer skulls adorning the guitar amps and leather wristbands with appropriately large chrome spikes. Their set brought the fun back into a genre that often becomes a little too serious and parodied, and man are they fast. The political concerns that had seemed to plague the minds of many artists during the week seemed to be absent here, making way for pure, unadulterated metal.

Skeletonwitch, Red 7.

Day Four. Sleep Is The Cousin Of Death.

Young Widows, Radio Room.

My final day of shows at SXSW dawned, and straight up I managed to catch a full set of Young Widows (survivors of noise-core staples Breather Resist). Their range of equipment was nearly as awe-inspiring as their performance, as both bassist and guitarist played throw two amps and three cabs each. As for the performance, they played mostly songs from their recent and second album Old Wounds, which made for an intense, droning and energetic set. They managed to maintain a solid charisma without having to address the crowd, and also seemed to engage every person there, letting their songs truly speak for themselves. At the same show I was also lucky enough to catch Pygmylush again, who played a similar set to the previous day, with maybe a few more upbeat country numbers thrown in. The indoors venue definitely suited them better, and they seemed more consolidated as a band at this show.

Pygmylush, Radio Room.

The main event of today however was a huge ‘party’ at Waterloo Park, where most artists who had showcased during the week were playing. I made my way over in order to see Cursive (who played an entire set of songs from The Ugly Organ - amazing), Trash Talk and The Bronx, all of whom were well worth seeing twice, and not just for the amount of blood lost by Lee from Trash Talk. As fun as the ‘Mess With Texas’ party was, my friends and I were getting a bit tired with the dust and the heat, so we headed over to a huge lounge-type area that had been built during the festival by Levi’s. I had to finagle my way in, but once in there, it was announced that Kanye West was to be playing a secret show at the stage (called the Levi’s Fader Fort). I stuck around as long as I could, and managed to catch the opening strains of Amazing as well as a sea of over-excited camera-phones, but I had to leave to catch the Strange Famous showcase.

Prolyphic, Scoot Inn.

Since I was a teenager, Sage Francis has played a large part in my musical and political ideals, and his label has grown from strength to strength, many of which were performing this evening. First up was relative newcomer Prolyphic (performing without his second half, Reanimator) who rapped on the floor, surrounded by those who knew well enough to get there early. The best thing about Prolyphic has been the earnestness of his lyrics, and the sense of responsibility he obviously accepts for anything he says on record. He matched this with his live persona, and while it was a fairly small crowd, it was still a special set. Next up was B. Dolan, of whom I had heard much, but never properly seeked out. His set was profound, hilarious and entertaining to say the least, equal parts hip-hop and poetry, with a dash of satirical performance art thrown in for good measure. As cynical as he is, it is obvious he approaches his art with a good humour, and just the right amount of self-deprecation as well. This can really be said for all the Strange Famous artists – the anti-elitist ethos ran strong throughout the night.

B. Dolan, Scoot Inn.

The great Buck 65 was up next. Acclaimed ‘avant-garde’ emcee and poet, the French-Canadian has been doing the rounds for years now, and seems to have found a suitable home with Strange Famous. His tales of sexual escapades and hobo adventures, all told in the true spirit of Kerouac was a sight to behold, however his monotonous tone did get tired after a while, especially since the entire show was without DJs to give that truly live aspect. Not all the artists suffered due this, however, least not the final two. Sleep was definitely the most anticipated act tonight, from speaking to various people in the crowd, and I felt somewhat ignorant having no idea who he was. When he entered the stage, the sight was nothing like I had expected – this stout, unassuming fellow in a cabbie’s hat proclaimed how sorry he was that he had lost his voice during the week and could only perform two songs. After he had finished, I could only imagine what it would be like if he was on top of his game. One of the fastest and at the same time most eloquent rappers I had ever heard, his laryngitis did little to contend with his amazing skill.

Sage Francis, Scoot Inn.

Finally, it was time for the coup de grace; Sage Francis. He took the stage wrapped in a Strange Famous Records flag, and ran through the crowd, trying to crash into as many people as possible. He leapt into a set that consisted of songs old, new and very new – some not even recorded yet. He performed remixes and collabs with B. Dolan, poetry in between all this, and laid waste to the ‘rumours’ that Kanye had signed to Strange Famous. Seeing and participating in songs like Bridle, Makeshift Patriot, Crack Pipes and Escape Artist, and many others was a truly amazing experience, and I can only hope to see this unmatched artist in a setting more suited to his personality. With a live DJ or band, I could only imagine Sage could rule the world for 30 minutes. His finale saw a large portion of the crowd join him onstage, along with all the other artists from the night, which may seem corny to read, but at the time seemed like the only logical conclusion to a fantastic show.

Sage Francis stage invasion.

To try and wrap up the entire four days at once seems like a bit of redundant task. That may be the fundamental flaw of SXSW, that people attending it view it as a whole rather than a large group of talented individuals. It, for the greater part is viewed as a market rather than a series of opportunities to experience many different types of music and performance. A sense of ‘hype’ is prevalent for a number of artists, as is shameless self-promotion from different companies, many of which have nothing to do with music whatsoever (I received more energy drinks than I care to remember). At this type of festival, however, the place of independent artists, or sub-genres and cultures that are maligned in the greater world seems to be clear. They can provide an oasis of sanity in the madness of business that too often overtakes the true effort and art of music.

Thanks Austin!

SXSW 2009 JOURNAL. PART ONE.

It is currently the night of Sunday, March 22nd, and I am sitting in my hotel room just south of the Austin downtown area. The past five days can only be described as chaos. Hot, steamy, sweaty chaos. For about 12 hours every day since March 18th I have been running back and forth across a foreign city trying to see as many great bands as possible. So now I prepare to leave for a colder climate (Seattle) and nurse my sunburnt, hayfever ridden head, and recount my experience with one of the biggest artist and industry events in the music world.

I arrived in Austin from Los Angeles operating on literally one hour of sleep, and headed straight for the convention centre for the cluster fuck that is conference registration. After receiving my truckload of flyers and SXSW information, and having all of my possessions tagged as ‘press’ I was finally deemed as ‘ready’ to hit some shows. One thing that gradually became clear throughout the week – even in the first couple of days – was the general disdain (at least amongst the bands of more maligned sub-genres) for the industry focus of the week. Free day time shows that were not SXSW sponsored generally found these sentiments on the sleeves of a lot of the hardcore or punk bands playing, notably by The Bronx, Ruiner (who were not playing any official showcases) and Gallows. Concerns regarding the playing of all ages shows and supporting artists rather than the industry beaurocrats seemed to be at the forefront of the criticisms or at the butt of jokes.

Welcome to Texas, asshole.

Day One. These beads of sweat feel like a flood.
My very first stop was the famous Emo’s venue on Wednesday afternoon for a Solid PR party, (which is what they called the day time shows with no cover charge - something to do with licensing laws in Texas) which featured Trash Talk, The Bronx, Young Widows and Annihilation Time. Thanks to the infallible Austin traffic, I only got there in time to catch the last few songs of Young Widows and then the tornado that is The Bronx live. Despite missing a couple of amazing bands, The Bronx still made for a great start to my week, and played relentlessly in the stifling heat of the venue. By that night, the dichotomy between these free, unsponsored day shows and the ‘official’ showcases was clear, the biggest difference being the number of stage dives at each kind of show. I didn’t get to see another show in the Emo’s small room, however I can’t imagaine it ever looking quite as energised or chaotic as The Bronx had that afternoon. Later on I headed to the Suicide Squeeze showcase, where These Arms Are Snakes would later headline, and I would miss due to my extreme fatigue. At this early hour, however, I was lucky enough to catch hip-hop act Champagne Champagne. Their beats were equal parts analogue and digital, powered by various pedals, a mac, vocoder and melodica. Lyrically the song centred around girls and sex, but not with the usual braggadocio or misogyny usually found, at least in mainstream hip-hop (which this definitely was not). Technically, their verses weren’t noticeably skilful, but the overall sound was original enough to provide an engaging and energetic set.

After this I headed over to Emo’s main room, were my SXSW experience may have peaked a little early. My first night there, I had the fortune to see two punk rock legends. H.R. of Bad Brains playing a set of punk and reggae informed rock with his young band, followed by Circle Jerks. During CJ’s set, vocalist Keith Morris was another musician to question the true motives or priorities of the festival, and praised U.K. band Gallows for their non-bullshit attitude towards music. Whilst not being overly aggressive in his statements directed at any business minded individuals attending the conference, his implications were clear. H.R. on the other hand was much more blunted (obviously), and cruised through his set despite the cries of dissent from Bad Brains purists in the crowd. Both sets, whilst being unquestionably amazing, seemed to be a little lost in the context of a festival that seemed to be preoccupied with the ‘next big thing’, rather than the musical foundations that were built by living legends.


Day Two. The Truth Is Here.

Cursive, Radio Room.

Day two saw the true Austin heat bear its wrath on the town, and luckily I had chosen to go see These Arms Are Snakes and Cursive at a free show (or ‘party’) at Radio Room, meaning a 40 minute queue in the sunlight. This was also my second and final failed attempt at catching TAAS, sadly. On the other hand, Cursive provided a set completely proportionate to my anticipation about seeing them. Playing a solid combination of songs from their seminal album The Ugly Organ and their newest, Mama, I’m Swollen, with a few Happy Hollow tracks thrown in, it was definitely a brilliant and understated performance for them.

Gallows, Dirty Dog.

I accidentally stumbled into the Red 7 venue and caught someone I had only recently been introduced to, The Tallest Man On Earth, a solo artist from Sweden. Seeing his songs played live was a truly transcendent experience. I can only hope his understated performances and Dylan-esque songs did not get lost in the sea of new artists playing at the night time showcases. I had a bit of downtime on this day, and thus was able to wander around catching random sets here and there, and after TTMOE, I stumbled across the UK’s Gallows, who had set up on the floor of a bar with fans crowded around them in no particular order or frame. As I said, they had some unfavourable opinions on the industry-types doing the rounds at SXSW, which were zealously expressed at this non-SXSW day show. Their show was electric and organic, with the combination of their no bullshit, say-what-you-think attitude and all the sweat and blood (actual blood) that punk has been missing recently, and that often is completely non-existent at events like this.

Eyedea & Abilities, Habana.

Later on that night was the event I had been hanging out for on a very personal level. It was the Rhymesayers showcase, featuring such Midwestern acts as Brother Ali, POS, Eyedea and Abilities and a host of other fantastic, left of centre emcees. One such guy, who I had been aware of for years but never searched out was I Self Divine, whose set was as inspirational as it was seething with earnest anger. His energy was almost tangible in the air, and technically he was faultless. He was followed by a personal favourite of mine from a few years ago, the emcee-DJ duo Eyedea and Abilities. I hadn’t heard a thing of these guys for about four or five years until tonight, and things have certainly changed for them. While still remaining stooped in the art of DJing, there are obvious influences of soul and indie rock coming through in their newer material, and Eyedea’s verses are becoming more complex and poetic. Their set definitely planted the seeds of anticipation for their new album.

POS, Habana.

Soon after, Minneapolis’s POS busted the show wide-open. I have been speaking of a sense of energy a lot in this piece, but POS truly displayed a level unrivalled by any other act I saw during the week. He earnestly showed a concern with properly connecting with the audience, in between tirelessly bounding round the stage, spitting breathlessly and playing live guitar for a few songs. His new album has been critically lauded recently, and this night he showed he has the skills to back it up in a live setting. I think the only thing that prevented the night’s headliner from being upstaged was the pure anticipation of his set. Brother Ali carries around a certain charisma and respect from fans and peers alike that can’t quite be articulated, but there was tenseness in the air moments before he took the stage. He played many of the recent classics from his The Undisputed Truth album, as well as teasing us with a song and a verse or two from his upcoming release – one of the most anticipated new hip hop albums for the coming year. Overall, the Rhymesayers showcase could only be described as an event overflowing with success, and I wasn’t the only happy face walking away from the temporary stage that night.

Brother Ali, Habana.