March 24, 2009

new love, old love



This wristband and badge business at SXSW was becoming less and less believable to me. Keen on seeing Mirah play at Antone's, I showed up to the venue about two hours before her set. For my non-badge/band self, cover was eight bucks. And there wasn't a line at all. Bingo.




Getting to a show early not only promises entrance, but also means you're going to get to see some rad new bands. Thus I discovered my new love, Theresa Anderson. If you crossed the great Swedish music export with the soul of New Orleans, this is who you'd have. A one woman band, she juggled instruments ranging from the fiddle, a dulcimer, guitar, xylophone, and snare drums, looping one into an energetic beat before bouncing onto the next one. (She even played barefoot, so as to better hit the pedals with her toes). Topping it off, her vocals were sweet and soulful, bringing it all together.



Her songs were sometimes sunny, otherwise dance-able, and always fun pop. For one song, she told the audience that her guest drummer would be Smokey Robinson, and then gestured to a record player on a stool that played a Smokey album as her percussion. Just having finished her second album, Hummingbird Go!, she apparently records most of her songs in her kitchen (adding to my love of women who do creative things in their kitchen). Fitting of the twenty minute time slot of SXSW shows, though, Theresa Anderson was finished in a blink, quickly dismantling her many instruments, pedals, and the rug she had put down to play upon.



My old love, Mirah, took the stage next, petite and barefoot as well. I first heard Mirah in someone's living room in my early twenties, when I went home with a girl who put on Advisory Committee as we sat on her couch and talked. I've since loved Mirah's sometimes tiny, sometimes epic songs of love and quirky-ness. She mostly played tracks from a new album (have I mentioned yet that nearly every band at SXSW is promoting a new album?), but ended with the dramatic song Cold, Cold Water (swoon).

What doesn't behoove Mirah is the setting of playing in a bar--she at one point asked everyone to stop talking, because she sang so quietly (this was in response to an audience that yelled 'more vocals!' to the sound guy, as if we were in charge). Even standing in the second row, it was hard to hear all of the nuances of Mirah's new songs.



Points, though, for her girl guitarist/bongo-ist and girl drummer. I was getting tired of seeing guys do so much at SXSW. Where are the ladies? I found myself thinking at so many showcases. My last night of SXSW, at the Perez Hilton party, would give me some good answers.

March 23, 2009

radio saves the day


My freshman year of college, in that awkward late teenage time when your music tastes are finally being carved into something worthwhile, I was lucky enough to stumble upon a friend's copy of PJ Harvey and John Parish's collaboration album, Dance Hall at Louse Point. While I knew PJ Harvey from her rough and sultry solo albums--Rid of Me, Is This Desire?, Stories from the city stories from the sea--this collaboration featured the deep, blues-like rock instrumentation of John Parish, paired with Polly Jean's lonesome, wailing vocals. The album was a gem, including her heartbreaking rendition of the song Is That All There Is? My burned copy is still in rotation of my beloved music, all these years later.

Naturally, I freaked when I noticed that sxsw's lineup included PJ Harvey + John Parish. This elation was quickly curbed, though: as with many other large acts, like Tori Amos, The Decemberists, and Andrew Bird, I had to remind myself that, without a wristband or badge, there was a snowball's chance in hell that I could get into these headlining shows. It would involve three hour waits in line, and lots of luck.

Imagine my glee, then, when my friend told me that the Seattle radio station KEXP was doing live recordings of Andrew Bird, Peter Bjorn + John, PJ Harvey + John Parish, and others at the TV station down the road from her house. Each recording would allow about a hundred audience members into the intimate studio session for free.

We queued up with others about an hour before Andrew Bird, and the sweet KEXP people told us that if we wanted to see the other acts, we would be given priority in the queue, since we were here first. Done and done.





(I have to take a moment here and say: the camera on my iphone sucks. Lighting washes people out, and it's way too shaky. Add to this my not having taken pictures since some half assed attempt at a photography class in college, and you have less than excellent photos. I only post to illustrate some kind of visual to my verbal account.)







When they opened the studio, it was so small and intimate that I was about fifteen feet from Andrew Bird as he whistled, strummed, and chatted his way through a set of new songs, plus one from a former album.

Swedish pop indy rock band Peter Bjorn and John played new songs (I was longing to hear the popular whistling song that I associate with the first episode of Gossip Girl), making jokes and switching places as the act went on.
















And then, about five hours after I had first arrived, we were being allowed into the studio for PJ Harvey + John Parish. I sat right up front. I could've stood up and kissed her (resisting the urge to do so was all based out of courtesy, I swear). She wore a lovely crepe black dress with a crepe pink rose on the front, and tall stiletto heels (the same dress she wears from the promos for the album, I think).




















The songs were all from her and John Parish's new collaboration ("It only took us twelve years," she joked about the lapse of time between albums), plus one track (Civil War Correspondent) from Dance Hall at Louse Point. The heady vocals brought me right back to that first time I heard their collaboration.








Leaving the studio, everyone seemed as dazed and giddy as I was--had we just seen PJ Harvey in a studio? We had just seen PJ Harvey in a studio! Unlocking my bike and pedaling away, I didn't think my sxsw could get any better than this.




life without a wristband

It's not so bad, doing sxsw sans wristband and/or badge. I had thought about throwing down the $180 or so for a band, which gets you second priority to all the official shows. Going band-less though can still guarantee you a good time, if you don't mind day time shows (unofficial, and almost always free), the occasional long line, and tons of other people.



Take, for instance, the Department of Eagles daytime gig at Waterloo records. Even though we got there about a half an hour before set, my friends and I were crammed in with about a hundred other fans. I tried to balance myself against a side shelf of cds and crane my neck over the crowds. This is about how much I could see, though.

They played a very short, very hungover set. They stopped in the middle of one song to fiddle with sound quality, and in the end, had did about as much banter with the crowd as they had played songs. (This would be nothing compared to Passion Pits' intoxicated antics later in the day, though).



Passion Pit was one of my absolute-must-see bands at sxsw, so the hour long wait in the hot sun to get into their free day time gig at Radio Room was fine by me. Other people in line were banking on seeing the Avett Brothers, who I hadn't heard of, but judging by the amount of fans also in this obnoxiously hot line, had be to good.



We walked in to see Omaha darlings Cursive finishing up their set. (I only know Cursive from my brother's high school days, when they were one of the many emo bands he listened to). Outside under a tent was the other stage. I pushed my way up front and battled legions of drunk, smoking sweaty people to make sure I would close to Passion Pit.



People around me were excited for the Avett Brothers, who were up first. One girl in front of me talked about how they couldn't quite be classified as bluegrass, but were still bluegrass.



Bluegrass classified or not, they were good. Three handsome dudes from North Carolina (plus a handsome fiddle player who jumped on with them later on) playing bluegrass inspired pop rock--every song was a love song, the kind of song that probably made girls swoon and wish they would be crooning to them. Their music had the force of Neutral Milk Hotel's songs, with charismatic pop vocals yelled by the lead singer with his banjo painted with skulls and roses--badass bluegrass? You could definitely head bang to it. Het women and gay men should get their crushes on--they were all very easy on the eyes.



Waiting for Passion Pit to come on, I hoped I could find enough wiggle room in the crowd to dance the way I wanted to. The young Boston band has infectious electro-pop tracks, having borrowed the equipment of MGMT and Hot Chip to get their start. I give credit to them--after a mere fifteen minutes of sound check for three keyboards, a drum set, apple power book, and guitar player, they were on.

When they were on, they were on--high pitched vocals and fast beats causing those of us willing to dance able to jump around with our hands in the air. But when they were off--a false start to their song sleepyhead ruined the high adrelin moment, and the poor lead singer was so tipsy that he a) knocked beer onto his keyboard and b) swung the microphone around only to whack his bandmate in the head with it. One could only hope that a bigger stage and a proper sound check would give these boys the running start they need to deliver.



And, just when the hot sun and crowded downtown scene was becoming too much, there was the free outdoor concert at Auditorium shores. I showed up right at sunset as the Cold War Kids were finishing up (a jumbotron broadcast what those not right up on the stage couldn't see) and M Ward was about to go on. A blanket, friends, corn dogs, cupcakes--it was pretty sweet. The sound quality at first nearly rendered the M Ward performance pointless (how can you hear this genius singer songwriter when the sound is low and everyone around you is chatting up a storm?), but then the volume went up, the crowds thinned out, and we could dance around all we wanted to.

Bonus points--if you tipped your head back to the dark sky, it was all stars, stars, stars, stars, stars.

Bliss.

sxsw synchronisity



I'm told that sxsw comes with some magic--a higher proportion of coincidence and synchronisity than other places and times on earth. This came true my first night, when, once separated from my friend who wanted to go to see Dan Auerbach of the Black Keys, I didn't know where to go. All my schedules were at home (oops), and due to all the hipsters on their iphones, 3G was a clusterfuck of uselessness. I couldn't look up shows, I didn't know where I was, and I didn't really have a way of knowing. The one band I wanted to see that night, An Horse, I couldn't remember where they were playing for the life of me.

So I started to walk down 6th street.

I found myself outside of Maggie Mae's, where a large banner proclaimed that tonight was a benefit show for Girls Rock Camp Austin, a sister camp of Willie Mae. I met all the rad ladies from rock camps around the world last year at the Girls Rock Camp Alliance conference, and inside the bar, Emily of the Austin camp recognized me with warm welcome. Coincidence? I think not. The GRCA conference was actually happening in Austin the week after sxsw, so synchronisity continued as I bumped into people from girls rock camps in DC, Sweden, and NY throughout the week.

I stayed for two bands--The Besties (an upbeat pop rock band from Brooklyn) and Zolof + The Rock and Roll Destroyer (a dance-y band from Philly that played music like that of a video game soundtrack). Synchronisity continued when I asked a badge holder at the bar to borrow their sxsw guide, where I could look up the An Horse show. It happened to be at Maggie Mae's Rooftop in two hours.

Eight bucks and a flight of stairs later, I was there.

The guy standing next to me upstairs was holding a megaphone. When I gave him a funny look, he smiled and held the megaphone up for me to see. "It's for my band, Black Cherry," he said, sweet as pie and British accent to boot. We talked for a bit about the other bands on the bill, and then, he took the stage as drummer for Black Cherry.



I was hoping to see some bands that just have that vibe of being the next big thing, and Black Cherry totally fits that bill. The lead singer, a Santigold look a like, sang and strutted like a British Karen O, but cooler. Their solid and heady rock, with pop and synth tones, was totally tied together by this woman's charisma--she jumped around, threw her shoes off, shouted into the megaphone, and made comments like, "It is important to our lives and yours that you remember our name." Her badass vocals and stylings were completely addicting. This was their first time in the states, they said.



Australian indy rock duo An Horse came on next. The audience had filled up with baby dykes who were ogling lead singer Kate Cooper, and who knew the words to all their songs.



The played a solid set of songs from their record Rearrange Beds, with endearing banter between songs. "I get scared about all these crowds," Kate said, "I think, what if something happened, like a zombie attack?" They scraped their quiet song due to the loud noise of a band playing on the rooftop of the bar next door (the perils of sxsw).

On the way out, I passed the Black Cherry on the stairs. The drummer and I grinned, and I told him how rad their set had been. "I'm gonna go back to New York and tell everyone about you guys!" I enthused. They all shook my hand and thanked me, and made sure I had a copy of their demo cd. Then I was back out into the loud and hot evening, strutting down 6th street, feeling good.

dear blog, i owe you

greetings from the monday after sxsw. this is a note to say you have not been forgotten. i have a whole new respect for bloggers who can do this while partying/going/biking/seeing the whole week.

today marks the official end of sxsw, emptying the streets and clearing the city of all the portapotties. i promise that today i'm gonna park myself at jo's coffee and bang these posts out. i've got pics and stories of passion pit, the avitt brothers, cursive, m ward, department of eagles, mirah, theresa anderson, pj harvey + john parish, andrew bird, peter bjorn + john, little boots, margaret cho, the indigo girls, ladyhawke, rye rye, thunderheist, kanye west, yelle, natalie portman's shaved head, sonia k of yo majesty, and



deep. fried. avocados.

March 18, 2009

the pains of loney fol chen family



sunshine + endless music + tacos + free + good people = my first day in austin

i keep alternating between exclamations of 'i can't get over how beautiful it is outside!' and 'i can't believe how much music is going on!'. downtown austin is like a big, sunny theme park of indy music for hipsters. the streets are closed off, everyone dresses like this is bedford avenue, and there's music coming from every possible angle (reminds me of what the hallways at willie mae rock camp sounds like, bands just bleeding into one another, total rock bliss).

forgoing badges and wristbands, i'm at the mercy of the free shows--which there are plenty. some bands i recognized (thanks to the schooling i got by my friend emily, who made me a sxsw sampler before i left), and some bands were brand new to me. all of the venues are spitting distance from one another, so the name of the game is to wander from venue to venue, watching whoever you please.

one afternoon and three venues later, here's what i got:

Port O'Brien
The Heartless Bastards



Loney Dear (reminds me of what Charlie Brown may sound like if he was in a darling-of-college-radio type band--or maybe it was just the stripes?)




Fol Chen
(synth pop rock, with vocals that channel Prince, and a trumpet thrown in for good measure)


The Pains of Being Pure At Heart (pop rock band that sounds as clean cut as the lead singer looks)


Akron/Family (a rambling jamboree of drums, shout/chants, with some beat machine esque loops--not to mention the best dancing i've yet seen).

and, just when i thought hunger would win out, we stumpled upon a tamale wagon (i say truck, one of the austinites i was with said wagon), where i ate vegan sweet potato pecan tamales and nearly died of goodness.



next up, sxsw's first night of music: girls rock camp austin benefit show, an horse, my encounter with a sweet and badass british band black cherry, and four words: deep fried avocado tacos.


brilliant.

flight magic



laguardia airport, at 4:50 in the effing morning. being a) paranoid and b) a novice traveler, i left brooklyn at the ungodly hour of 4am for my 7:15am flight. some sleep was to be had after finagling a twisted-yet-comfortable position on the hard seats for a bit.

traveling to a singular destination with most of the music world makes for an interesting trip. there were enough hipsters at the gate to make me feel like i was on the l-train. (i.e. tall skinny guy in straw hat and blue tight blazer, tall skinny girl in ripped black jeans and three inch heels, flashdance like sweatshirt off her shoulder, both carrying instruments).

my original cheap-ticket was supposed to take me to houston (note: i keep embarassing myself by pronouncing it house-ton here. never will i scoff at a mispronouncing tourist in new york again), with a connection to san antonio, where i would meet my craigslist rideshare for a ride into austin (for $40). but, flight magic was on my side: because of fog over houston, we couldn't land, and because our plane was short on fuel (i gripped my nails into the armrest and imagined us crashing into flames), we would be landing in austin to refuel. sxsw-ers on the plane erupted into joy. icing on the cake: they pulled our luggage so we wouldn't be in limbo waiting for it. suddenly, it's 11:30 texas time, and i'm standing in sunny austin (83 degrees!), waiting for my friend to come pick me up.

rad.

March 16, 2009

if i could illustrate sxsw, i would


this is my suitcase, in the process of being packed for my trip to austin for sxsw. i rarely travel. and i don't post comics as frequently as i'd like to. so i decided to try something different, and take my comic with me on my trip.

i've never been to austin, never been to sxsw. i have two weeks off of work and am going down there on a whim. i don't work in the music industry. i'm not gonna invest in a badge or a wristband. i'm totally just going down to shake a tail feather and meet some new people.

to prepare and fully embrace my inner music-nerd, i have:
-read every sxsw schedule on the internet until my eyes bled
-found earplugs
-arranged to borrow a bike from someone through craigslist
-unearthed my shorts, suntan lotion, and toms
-signed up for twitter
-dug up every single music industry contact i could possibly network
-printed free business cards for myself
-rsvped for free shows and free parties (when i am asked to register my 'affiliation', i come very close to writing 'your mother')

some of this is ridiculous (see twitter and business cards--because everyone needs to network with a writer/bunny/office manager of a little preschool, right?), some of this is exciting (passion pit! an horse! the coathangers! little boots!), some of this includes weather that is so not pre-spring-teaser-cold-grey new york (!). i'm curious about the looks i may get, snapping photos of my bunny alter-ego while busting a move. whatever happens, i'll keep you posted.