Rockfeedback @ SXSW '08
5/5
By: Thomas Hannan
15/3/08 - SXSW REPORT PART 3
On the hottest day since the Big Bang, Rockfeedback is tired but happy. We've discovered the Dodos, who make us finally realise that there is a difference between any ol' band playing in the sunshine in Texas (usually a good thing) and a really good band playing in the sunshine in Texas (a rare and beautiful thing). The influence of Animal Collective looms large over this festival, and their shadow falls here too, though this bunch aren't afraid to add their own spark - being one of the few acts who've managed to acknowledge the fact that an acoustic guitar needn't only be played slowly and quitely and that experimental doesn't necessarily mean inacccessible - heck, it can be really pretty poppy at times - endears them to our cold hearts.
Cold hearts? Nope, everything about us is sweltering in this heat, hearts included. I think I can even feel my spleen sweating, and my heart opening to Cadence Weapon, worryingly only the first non-guitar orientated band I think I've seen so far all festival. Cadence Weapon himself - a young, pudgey and wholly endearing whippersnapper of a rapper - is utterly engaging, the kind of person who turns every event involving him and a microphone in to a party where all in attendence are best friends for the duration of his songs. He moans about the sunshine, saying it doesn't suit him (he's from Canada), but he's completely wrong about that, and right on about everything else. The one that goes "I made a deal today, we're selling real estate" over and over again will be huge in London within weeks if I've got any say in it.
I'm a little uncomfortable about the idea of seeing a gig in an Urban Outfitters (what's next, The Magnetic Fields in Primark?), but it seems hundreds of others aren't - this performance from MGMT is one of the most anticipated of the whole SXSW Festival (I stopped referring to it as a 'conference' very soon after it began). And at least it's not actually in the shop, rather it's outside in the car park, as making people stand close by each other indoors in this heat would have been grossly unfair, and very smelly indeed. Though there are huge delays due to technical problems, they're not hindered by it, as the crowd eat out of the palms of their hands. They look the part, have a handful of yeah-they're-ok tunes, but there is of course That One You Know (But I Can't Remember The Title Of) that is undeniably megabrilliant - they play it, of course, and it's then that everything about MGMT makes sense, you forget you're in the car park of a large chain clothing store and soak up vibes, rays, love, energry drinks, friendship, melody...
The feeling That MGMT Song I Still Can't Remember The Title Of (But You Know The One, Right?) creates however is fleeting and pithy compared to the real joy of watching Jens Lekman perform an exclusive set on a bride over a creek for Rockfeedback TV. Using only his sultry Swedish voice and a kalimba his friend made for him out of an old piece of furniture, he sings two songs - 'The Opposie of Hallelujah' and 'It Was A Strange Time In My Life', complete with elaborate hand gestures - quietly but so beautifully that the whole of Austin shuts the fuck up for a minute in the knowledge that this man is better, more intelligent and certainly more important than any other music being played in the city at that minute. Charming fella, too. We all fell in love with him a bit. Especially when he joined us for a Frozen Margarita at the Iron Cactus (a restaurant downtown, not a Mexican Communist movement) post filming.
Of course, shortly after his first sip we lost him to other admirers, but that won't be the last Lekman hears of Rockfeedback. We sit with our less interesting, less famous, less attractive friends and have a well earned rest before the treck to Antones to catch Vampire Weekend. In a discussion beforehand, I raise the idea that perhaps their set is the third most anticipated of the whole festival - second only to dinosaurs Van Morrison and R.E.M.. A quick glance a the mammoth, snaking queue that stems from the venue doors - the biggest we've seen all week (the queue, not the doors - there was nothing special about the doors) reveals that I am right.
Being right is a feeling that I enjoy, but not as much as the two bands we see before VW take to the stage - signed to Rough Trade in the UK, Basia Bulat delivers elfin, fragile but not superficial and sufficiently weighty folk that finds an unlikely and friendly home in the ears of the baying Antones throng. They really, really love this - even though few of them are here for Basia herself (I'll admit, we weren't either - some places you just got to get to early). She loves being loved, too. Look at that smile. Shucks.
I bet Foreign Born have listened to Destroyer. I bet if Dan Bejar of Destroyer met Foreign Born, he'd convince them to go down all kinds of weird avenues for the sake of sonic and narrative exploration. But I hope Dan never does (he should just take that advice himself, and keep getting increasingly odd - go Dan!), as unlike Destroyer, with whom they've a lot in common otherwise I'd not have brough them up, it's the twinkly pop riffs that make the crowd go hell yeah, and not the journey in to the unknown. Sometimes it's nice to know what's coming, and, like this crowd do, clap and sing along.
I think the biggest achievement of Vampire Weekend's performance is not how proficiently they play or how wonderful these songs are (you probably know about that by now), but more that they make what is essentially an industry love in full of people who watch music all day every day with money money money very much in mind feel like a proper gig, a real party, with actual fans. People are whooping and cheering things like "Vampire Weekend fuckin' ROOL!" rather than stroking their beards and nodding. People like me are at the merch stall buying scarves with things like 'Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa' written on them, and vinyl versions of records we already own. People like, well, everyone in Antones, are enjoying themselves, remembering why they got in to music in the first place. Not money. Songs.
(Part 2 below)
14/3/08 - SXSW REPORT PT2
Thursday morning started with the revelation that people who make spectacular music aren't always spectacularly intersting when talking about it. In any sonic sense other than a casual chat, the combination of Steve Reich and Thurston Moore of Sonic Youth would have been all-encompassingly fascinating. But seeing as interviewer Thurston is no Parky and Steve is a weird, quiet 70 year old in a baseball cap, this key not speech in the conference centre isn't, not particularly. Still, it's nice to be able to say that I've looked at Steve Reich, and thought 'oh, that's Steve Reich'.
Far more vital and understandably self celebratory was the party our sister label Transgressive Records held at the Wave Bar downtown, on their roof terrace in the blistering sunshine. As you know t's Rockfeedback policy not to big up the artists on Trannie Rex in review style articles too much, for the sake of impartiality n'all, but I'll just say that in Frederick Blood Royale Ox.Eagle.Lion.Man have possibly the greatest front man of our generation, Johnny Flynn makes even MORE sense in the sunshine with a beer than he does in other scenarios (though he counts this as the worst show he's ever played, because he's an idiot), and even though the Noisettes are late and uncharacteristically take a whole song to find their stride, when they do hit full steam ahead they are, for 20 minutes, the greatest rock and roll band on Planet Earth. "Let's all be this nice to each other when we meet up in New Cross or Camden", begs frontwoman Shinghai Shoniwa. It's a very good call.
The Ruby Suns play a kiwis-only BBQ (we sneak in with fake accents and steal their wine) and are lovely, in a booze and sunshine in a tent set to indie pop kind of way. All kinds of way should be that kind of way. They plough similar ground to the likes of Sunset Rubdown and Animal Collective, as do most people worth your time these days it seems, and though they're not quite as interesting as either, it was nice to enjoy something without having to pay too much attention for once.
They're followed by a Mauri reggae band. I wasn't sure those existed, but I wasn't sure deep fried steak existed before I came to Texas, so go ahead and colour me horrifically uncultured.
So welcomed were we by the New Zealanders that we decide to follow a bunch of them over to watch their Great White Hope, Liam Finn, across town. The band on before him are a blues collective playing songs about Memphis that are so fun it makes me want to figure out where Memphis is and relocate there as soon as possible. Liam himself is a bit of a ruddy genius. Though due to a venue problem he plays to a packed room in near total darkness, his incredibly inventive way with a rock and roll tune and amiable rather than alienating showmanship ensures that the songs shine through loud and clear. And for a 'singer songwriter', what a bad ass drummer! What a great guitar player! What a voice! What a beard! What a nice shirt! What a bastard!
There's no doubting that Yeasayer are a good band. A very good band. Yet very good though they are, I find it difficult to shake the feeling that there are another band (*cough*Animal Collective!*cough*) who are still very much better than they are. This wouldn't be a problem if it weren't for the fact that the amount of common ground they share is so great that AC should probably be charging Yeasayer rent, or at least demanding that they make a contribution to bills and do a bit of the washing up now and again. Though their middle of the night set doesn't really seem to get going and is more hypnotic than you might expect having become enamoured with their LP, there's still a lot to love in it. Heck, at least they don't sound like one of those bands who, y'know, totally suck.
(Part one follows)
13/3/08 - SXSW REPORT PT 1
Dear all'a y'all,
Greetings from the press suite in the Convention Centre in downtown Austin, Texas, where the blue shirted drones of SXSW are keeping my water topped up, Lou Reed is next door moaning about this mess we're all in, and I am submitting my first missive from the South By Southwest music 'conference' (i.e. industry piss up) 2008. Here's what we got up to yesterday, in three words - filming, walking, drinking. In a little more detail...
A Brazilian band known as Curumin, who play funk the kind of which I last heard on the Beastie Boys' instrumental record The Mix Up (which really, really isn't that bad), are the first band we come across. It was whilst we were waiting for another act admittedly, but so enticed were we by the sounds and smells coming from Emo's (a venue, not a genre-description of any kind) that we stumbled their way. They might not have been great, but free beer, free nachos and free sunshine certainly were, and their lazy funk vibe soundtracks that pretty well. Limbs were shaken, politely.
Also polite but sufficiently potent were Frightened Rabbit, who do The Scottish Indie Thing invented by Edwin Collins most admirably. Those who hold a candle for Tapes n Tapes and Idlewild when they were great (which they were, once) will take up candle holding for this bunch also. Me, there will always be a place in my heart for people who make music like this, especially when they're wearing shirts like that. Unspectacularly brilliant, and further proof that the bass guitar is fast becoming the most redundant instrument in indie rock.
Move over Har Mar Superstar as Hawnay Troof has stolen your moves, your tunes and your girls and relocated them to a car park outside a dingy bar in Texas. And done it better than you. He just presses play on a laptop, adjusts the jacket on his gold suit (I want, I want) and goes completely monkeybonkers, climbing trees and yelling at us to raise our hands in the air like we just don't care. We don't - care, that is. So he gets his wish. He later reveals he's been playing the whole set with an excruciatingly painful broken rib. Real, then. And really good.
Die Die Die are a bunch of Kiwis who play as soon as Hawnay finishes, on the floor of the same car park. And once again I'm forced to eat my words - mere minutes after heralding the death of the bass guitar from the rooftops to the bemused faces of Texas (they didn't like what I was saying, but they loved the accent I said it all in), Die Die Die hit me with the best bass sound I've heard since I last saw Shellac. I think these guys might really like Shellac. And Sonic Youth. And Fugazi. I've only got three boxes, me, and that's all of them ticked. Watching Die Die Die live is like gazing upon a band trying to bruise their own songs.
The rawer you can encounter Two Gallants, the better. If you ever get the opportunity to take a cheese grater to their fingers before they play, do it. DO IT. The sound would be incredible. In an exclusive Rockfeedback TV thing we're very proud of indeed, we sat them down on a knackered sofa underneath a tree in another car park, and they played for us completely sans amplification. It was as raw as we could get it without physically injuring the poor guys. And consequently, the best I've ever seen them.
After my first encounter with a deep fried steak (I'd no idea what I had ordered, and certainly shan't be doing it again... well, we'll see) it was high time for something more subtle, more stylish, more like These New Puritans. They look great and mostly sound it too, if the idea of a cross between Gang of Four-like start.stop.start.stops and the sci-fi rhetoric of Muse (not the trendiest comparison, but the most accurate one, trust me) sounds like a good idea to you, which it does (and did) to me. They never slipped in to easy, soaring passages, keeping it just uncomfortable enough for it to be vital at all times. I appreciated that. They're just a band, not the saviours of everything they've been heralded as, but fun nonetheless. Americans really dug it, because they were like, so British.
All of which is all well and good, but it's hardly Jeffrey Lewis. Out the back of Club De Ville, soaked in a flattering purple light, he and his backing band The Jitters play soundtracks to comic books depicting on a massive scale the communist uprising in Russia from Marx to Stalin as well as the legend of the Creeping Brain (whilst Jeffrey narrates and turns the pages), plus tales of being raped by someone who may or may not have been Bonnie Prince Billy ("all artists are pussies", he tells his victim) and anti folk versions of songs by the hardcore anarchist punk band Crass. He's a double bacon genius burger. Though Lewis is in this totally for the music (as 'Don't Let The Record Label Take You Out To Lunch' proves best - "you're the one who has to pay at the end of the day"), this doesn't mean he's obsessed with sonic textures and soundscapes and all that rubbish that usually means so much to me. The lyrical content - frighteningly witty, engaging and informed - and the sheer kid in a toy shop like glee on the faces of those playing the songs is enough to convince even the most ardent audiophile to embrace anti folk, as it's one of the few kinds of music with enough heart to hug you back.
By the time we get back over town to the Domino party at Antones to catch Sons and Daughters, they're making a right old noise to close their set - and it's not noise of the kind that makes you feel like you might have just met God, rather it's just pretty poor rock and roll. But hey, those who've seen the entire show as opposed to just the couple of songs we catch seem to be really in to it, so maybe I'm completely wrong about everything.
I'm right about one thing though, or at least I think I am, and that's my theory that perhaps only people in London give two hoots (I've discovered Americans really like silly English sayings like that, so I'm using them all the time - I'm an incredibly annoying person to be around) about never-had-a-wash rock n roll combo The Kills. One of the best venues in town (still Antones) is half full for a gig that in the LDN (sigh) would be packed to the rafters. Perhaps these Americans know something we don't. Something like, I don't know, all their songs do is go BOOMtishBOOMBOOMtish for three minutes, traveling nowhere, and that they're really not as engaging to look at as you want them to be. Shame, because the last time I put that new record of theirs on, I dug it - smile on my faces, feet tapping, the lot. But this just isn't connecting properly. The Kills either need to be twice as loud, or twice as good. They'd probably be twice as good if they were twice as loud. Yeah, that works.
The Transgressive party we're hosting - details below - is about to begin. This means my time here ends... now. Til' tomorrow!
Love,
Tom.x
Original news report on our SXSW involvement follows -
South By Southwest, Austin, Texas. A mammoth music conference in the self proclaimed musical capital of the world. Probably worth checking out. With that suspicion in mind, Rockfeedback is taking every one of its incarnations, across RFB and sister label / publisher / management dudes Transgressive, over to the States next week to see if it's all it's cracked up to be. Which it probably is.
Rockfeedback TV will be there with a full crew filming the characters, performances and speeches that make up the festival, as ever with unrivalled wit and skill, for its upcoming second Channel 4 series (due to debut on C4 itself on March 28th). Expect appearances from everyone from scene figureheads such as R.E.M. to up and coming youngsters a la Vampire Weekend, along with exclusive performances from the likes of bona fide man-crush Jens Lekman amongst others.
Rockfeedback.com, via the fingers of editor Tom Hannan, will also be bringing daily reports on the sights, sounds and smells (but mostly those all important sounds) of the festival whenever he gets a spare doggone minute (just trying to get in to the US lingo there). As such, other updates will have to wait til' were back in the office, but we hope this makes up for it.
And Transgressive? What are they up to? This, since you ask:
Transgressive Records' third year running in Austin, Texas will feature yet another debauched day party, this time held in association with the NME.
Confirmed to appear live and intimately are the following artists:
JOHNNY FLYNN
THE NOISETTES
OX.EAGLE.LION.MAN
Plus: Adventures Close To Home DJs, DJ Zane Lowe
Venue: Wave/ Wave Rooftop (2 venues). 408 E 6th St., Austin, Texas
Thursday 13th March, 2pm-6pm
Booze will be provided free of charge on a first come, first served basis, and an exclusive SXSW CD sampler from Transgressive will be available to all attendees.
Though this is the first time there will be an official Rockfeedback presence at the even, Transgressive's assault on SXSW first kicked off in a legendary 2006, and performances at day parties to date have ranged from all facets of the label's roster, inclusive of Foals, Jeremy Warmsley and Young Knives, and DJs including Xfm's John Kennedy.
The artists performing this year reflect all of Transgressive's activities - fast-rising, instrument-swapping folk virtuoso Johnny Flynn (www.myspace.com/johnnyflynn) is Transgressive's sole management act; impossibly vital glam-art-punk trio The Noisettes
(www.myspace.com/thenoisettes) are published by Transgressive Publishing; and foreboding, Cave-esque doom merchants Ox.Eagle.Lion.Man.(www.myspace.com/oxeaglelionman) are a brand-new signing to Transgressive Records.
It's advised to arrive early on the day. Don't mess with (Transgressive and Rockfeedback in) Texas.
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