 Next week, I'll resume play-by-play action of the bands witnessed at SXSW 2008. For this edition, let's mix up the reviews with a few crowd observations. After all, this festival is noteworthy for the milling crowds it draws, too.
Ah, the things we do for music.
At Austin City Limits in September, we brave four days in the blazing sun, in the middle of a field, perpetually on the verge of heat exhaustion, cultivating insta-sweat stains on every thread of clothing.
At South by Southwest, we sprint from Austin Music Hall on far west 2nd
to Emo's on far east Red River, wait in long lines with occasionally
obnoxious strangers, and spend exorbitant amounts of money on badges,
wristbands, alcohol, and in many people's cases, plane tickets.
Those of us crazy enough to power through all it keep this as our edict: We're doing it for the music.
At SXSW, even the people who had illusions of self-grandeur held this sacred. Hordes
of people were dressed to the nines for South by Southwest.
Silly-dressed up. Trying way too hard, dressed up. A fellow blogger who
I made the acquaintance of Friday evening said it like this: "There are
a million Lindsay Lohans running around." Indeed, aspiring Lindsays,
Victoria Beckhams, and Michael Coors' were crawling around downtown
Austin, oblivious to the deeply founded truth that this is a city of
flip-flops and vintage tees, making sure they were seen while there
were lots of people around to see them.
My first day, I just checked everyone out slack-jawed, thinking
erroneously, "These must be the rockstars." I assumed they were
imported from glamorous places across the globe and I would witness
most of them on stage in the nights to come. How else could they feel
so entitled to strut around in those pleather pants?
Of course, The Black Keys put that misconception to rest when they
trudged on stage in their armpit-stained T-shirts. Apparently,
rockstars don't feel the need to dress up at a rock show. Posers do.
But, in the end, after all of my condescension and judging, I would
wind up at the same grudging admission: these people are here for the
music. They can't suck that much.
Which brings me to Day Two. Which, surprisingly enough, did not suck at all.
Day 2, and the Quirkee/ Quack! Media
"don't-mention-the-reason-we're-all-here-cause-we-ain't-affiliated-with-SXSW"
party got my day off to an early start, taking in the comic intrepidity
of Quirkee's comedian colleagues and the musical stylings of
Michigan-based bands. (Why Michigan, you ask? Why Not! They rocked!
Check out photos here: Image Gallery.)
The heavy hand of Darwin's bartender, some new acquaintances from the
Great Lakes area, and the generous free-beverage policy of the Quirkee
family sent me weaving towards Stubb's just about sundown. I was
greeted by a line snaking around the corner, in anticipation of the
release concert for "Body of War," the award-winning documentary of
paralyzed Iraq War veteran Tomas Young. A short nap on the pavement
later (the group behind me declared my napping prowess "triumphant"),
and we were in.
The concert presented songs from the documentary's two-disc
soundtrack, including artists Ben Harper, Billy Bragg, Tom Morello, and
Serj Tankian. In touching, incisive, largely hopeful and sometimes
angry songs, the artists kept the crowd captivated as dusk fell and the
secadas battled to be heard. Tankian sat solo at the piano, performing
songs off of his debut album. Bragg did what he does best: stood alone
in the spotlight with his guitar and sang songs of revolution. Harper
came out to a roaring crowd and performed a duet with Morello on
"Gather ‘Round the Stone." The show ended with palpable energy, as the
whole gang of musicians filed back out on stage and Morello ordered
everyone in the audience to jump the fuck up and down and sing as loud
as they could to "This Land Is Your Land." They brought together the
Lindsay Lohan's, the hippies, the hipsters, the out-of-towners and the
Texans, the war veterans and the war protesters. In the warm spring air
of Austin, surrounded by other music lovers and in the presence of
modern legends, it ended as one of the most memorable concerts I've
attended.
On tap? More band and venue break-downs, Jimmy Vaughn playing his
guitar behind his head, and the importance of late-night pita
sandwiches.
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