Saturday - get your Barbie on!

It's Australia Day in Austin. Aussie musicians, press, biz-niz folk as well as a swag of curious, excitable and like-minded folk from Texas and beyond will be descending on Maggie Mae's today and tonight to check out the Aussie BBQ, presented by Stage Mothers. We, the 'Strayans, have three stages all to ourselves, and with free beer, pies, snags and even a cheeky brekkie burrito, there are all the ingredients to a great day. Unfortunately, an arctic cold front that hit overnight means the weather is anything but Australian, a very chilly 12 degree maximum expected today. And with a wind that's ripping across the city, it will be interesting to see if it has any impact on the bands or the crowd.

First up on the rooftop are Melbourne pop band Oh Mercy, who pull together their warm sound and unleash it against the weather, and with the stage strategically placed in front of the barbecue, umm, queue, the quartet are in as good a position as possible to capitalise on the day. Looking around, most of the punters enjoying their free food are hanging around to watch, and although there is not much banter between songs, Oh Mercy are quite comfortable letting their songs do the talking.

Downstairs, Perth's Karnivool hit the stage. Having never actually seen them play but being aware of their rise in the Australian rock scene, it is with a very pleasant surprise to see them bring their throbbing riffs and syncopation to a mid-sized crowd. Having almost become a familiar name in Australia, for anyone here (such as myself) needing confirmation, look no farther. There's an American market for them to harness, courtesy of bands like Tool and Deftones, and they show what they've got with a flawless show.

Following the 'Vool, WA singer songwriter Nathan Gaunt has brought his country/blues and his stratocaster to town, pulling out some happy-go-lucky, heartbroken tunes. His trusty harmonica alongside for the ride and there's 60 people in the room - a solid showing for a guy whose name is far from etched into even Australian minds yet.

It seems everywhere we go this week, Paul Dempsey is close by. Today, braving the wind on the rooftop, sees him playing to his largest crowd of the week. P-Diddy is looking very dapper this afternoon, and with his rich songs and articulate musings over the "aspirational metal" blaring from next door - "they must be from Tampa" - I feel a hint of a man-crush coming on. He plays the crowd just right, and clearly enjoys the interaction that has sorely been missing from a number of his earlier shows this week.


The Dempsey Dreamboat.


Adelaide's City Riots turn the day in a different direction. They bring to the stage their skinny jeans, their black leather jackets, and their alt-rock in search of the hooks and riffs that will skyrocket them to stardom. They haven't quite found them yet, but despite the band being slightly one-dimensional, they play to the biggest crowd of the day - they're clearly doing something right.

Fun punk-rockers Goons of Doom have been creating a fair buzz this week, and watching their chaos-laden hilarity unfold on stage it's easy to see why. Lamenting of the weather "every day in Australia is hotter than this", this is good-time rock. They're a strange bunch of guys, looking kinda like the 1990s surf scene never left. Their show is as loose as an east Austin teenage mother, and despite how their songs may or may not sound on record, in a live setting their show is as entertaining as any. Wholesale instrument changes and simulated shark attacks are all part of the madness, and it's good to see the punk attitude is still there.


Apparently, this is how a Shark Attack ends.


Sydney crew Cassette Kids follow, and that wind will just not let up. You have to feel almost sorry for singer Kat Noobergen, who's back-less dress must have her absolutely freezing - it's no wonder she gets around the stage like a mad woman. The band struggle to get the interaction they clearly crave from the audience (tough when there are mainly industry folk there whose hands are either in their coat pockets or clutching beers), but when Cassette Kids veer towards a stronger electronic feel they are at their best.

Back downstairs, Brisbane's guitar-powered pop rock band Grand Atlantic are mid-set, and playing to a sizable crowd once more. Their brand of music has the potential to crack American FM radio, so for the band to play a showcase such as this surely must come with huge pressure.

For the second time in two days we run across Children Collide. Given their very small crowd yesterday, today's show in front of close to 100 people is much stronger. They clearly feed off the larger crowd, and Heath Crawley's bass is sounding a whole lot dirtier - see: better - than yesterday. With a dedicated management staff on hand to pass out free download cards (strange that they're the only noticeable band with such promo activity) Children Collide are in town to get some business done, and with shows like this that's definitely a chance.

Like Goons of Doom, the hype around Brisbane's Violent Soho has been hard to ignore this week. Word on the street is that they've brought grunge back from the dead, and while claims such as this may be a little extreme, there is an undeniable quality to the band's music. It's impossible to avoid the Nirvana inspiration, but with enough quieter moments and lyrical focus, Violent Soho are hair (yes, hair) to remind us what came before...

Beaches. Ah Beaches. How rock you are. All girls, all loud, all the time. With a palpable reverb dripping down the wall like the beads of sweat the band inspire, they're the final band on today so the crowd is arguably the biggest of the day. And these punters are getting a treat, for the eyes and most definitely for the ears. Through the wall of sound it's difficult to hear lead singer Antonia Sellbach's (she of Love of Diagrams) lyrics, but that hardly matters. As the Texans would say, "fuck all y'all mother fuckers".

Then we're out on the street while Maggie's gets the once over, grabbing a bite and a pint ($3.50 pints - they might taste like piss, but hey, the price is right) before heading back in for the evening gig. We're down to one stage, so it's all eyes on Megan Washington and her band. Unfortunately for her, there are still people waiting outside to get in, so even by the end of the set the place isn't quite at capacity yet. It's a very upbeat set, Washington finishing with 'Clementine' and the brilliant 'Cement'.

Following on from Washington are Sydney's Dappled Cities, and five men with bigger smiles I challenge you to find. By the time they're on stage the place is full, a fitting end to their three-show stint in town. The band's music flirts with melody, but more often than not keep a distance from easily-accessible pop music, and they get a serviceable response from the crowd who, it seems, are here primarily for the next band.

Coming straight outta Townsville, seven-piece The Middle East prove the highlight of the night. With their potential to sound like Art of Fighting at their most serene, and the Polyphonic Spree at their most excitable, the folk-heavy style is a beautiful sound that seems to have been missing this week. Unfortunately the metal band downstairs make The Middle East's more emotional moments suffer, but finishing with their hit 'Blood' as their loudest and finest moment, it's a great way to finish a fantastic set from one of Australia's true up-and-comers.

Sherlock's Daughter are the surprise packet of the night. It's surprising to see how much noise they make, and although the band look like a complete hotchpotch of performers, their music is fun, beautiful and thoroughly enjoyable. Diminutive singer Tanya Horo commands the stage with her unfailing positive attitude, and the rest of the band as well as the crowd get right behind her to extract a great set.

The heartbreaker award goes indisputably to Kate Miller-Heidke. With an unstoppable voice and a sense of humour sometimes bordering on the crass, her set is disrupted by not only the metal madness downstairs, but also the incessant ranting from the crowd near the bar and at the back of the room. KM-H seems more than a little upset at the noise, but still delivers a great set, with sparse accompaniment. 'Space They Cannot Touch' is a set highlight, as is a cover of Britney Spears' 'Toxic', and when she departs shortly before midnight, things are finally in place for the Aussies. It's time to look elsewhere.

According to a very random source, Justin Timberlake is playing out in east Austin. For some reason we think it is a good idea to follow this source and find ourselves not only in an abandoned tent in the middle of a field, but in a decidedly unsavoury part of town. Let's get the hell out of here.

It's nearing 1am, and in the need for a fitting way to round out the night. Unfortunately, the Passion Pit DJ's are not it. In fact, a more boring, average and amateur DJ set I have yet to see. Indescribably bland music, terribly blatant mixing and even worse lighting makes this a disaster, and to end SXSW like this would be criminal.

Inside Emo's however, Brisbane's An Horse is onstage, plowing through their fun two-piece pop stylings. Given the Australian theme of the day, they are a fitting way to see out the 1am time slot, so when we leave thinking we're done for the night (hint hint, we're not), we leave happy.

Across the road though, all hell is breaking loose, courtesy of Texas' finest punks, Riverboat Gamblers. Diving from the stage and throwing beer cans will not get you into heaven, but they're surely the right actions to get you having a good time. Singer Mike Wiebe even scales the speaker mountain and jumps 10 feet straight into the heaving crowd, and with mosh pits unseen in SXSW since Motorhead on Tuesday night, it's a reminder that good live music in this town can and should be embraced by throwing your body against the person next to you, and screaming 'til your lungs give way.


Is he going to jump?

You bet.

Not sure how he ended up there...


Well, that's it. Isn't it? Shall we go for one final beer before catching a cab? Sure. How about this abandoned underground carpark? It's 2am but this place is still open, sounds like a band might be playing inside. No cover charge? Done, let's do it. 5 seconds later and a quick glance at the stage, and the mother of all surprises greets us...

HOLE. On stage. Courtney Love and her new band. 300 people. You've got to be kidding me. No Siree, it's her alright, and I gotta say, she's still got it. A decidedly mainstream crowd (turns out this is a Perez Hilton party, and sure enough he's spotted hanging around side of stage) doesn't want to hear the band's new stuff from their first album in years, and for the most part Love is happy to oblige. 'Celebrity Skin', 'Malibu', and a rocking version of Fleetwood Mac's 'Gold Dust Woman' all go off with the drunk and fucked crowd, many of whom are shocked by Love's incessant swearing - "I am the biggest cunt in this room, and let me tell you - we bleeeeeeeeed!" - but ultimately thrilled with what they're witnessing.


All you need is Love.

Courtney getting her emo on.


Their few new songs are solid, and it will be interesting to hear how they sound on disc. But right now it's Love's show, and despite her failing vocal chords, she gives it absolutely everything.

Now the night is done. And what a way to finish.

It's 4am. I've had about 12 hours' sleep since Tuesday. I've been sunburnt, windburnt, drenched with rain, sweat and beer. I've danced. I've pondered. I've been impressed, disappointed, and moved. I've trekked miles in search of shows, cabs, parties, the-next-big-thing, and late night pizza. My feet, clothes and vocal chords will never forgive me. It's been South By Southwest. Austin, Texas. Might come back next year.

D.

Wednesday Night (the end of Day 1)

I feel that I owe my feet an apology. 15 hours and 12 bands later, I find myself well and truly at the end of the day, with my feet, ankles, calves, and knees begging for bed. But I shall not desert you, thee faithful reader. For The Good Times do not end here. No sir.

With the sun bright in the sky and heavy in our heads, the first port of call is the local store where a litre of Gatorade is just what the breakfast doctor ordered. But after a jaunty, almost festive bus ride into town, 6th St never looked so good. The green shirt parade are on the town, Guinness flags and four-leafed clovers adorn the pubs on either side, and this being St Patrick's Day, there is good reason to hear celtic music blasting from all corners.

First stop however is Emo's, and after snaking our way through the main bar where we find a random metal band doing possibly the loudest mic check known to ears - "CHECK! CHEE-YECK! TWOOO! CHEE-YECK TWOOO!" (like dude, it's just gone midday - don't mess yourself) - we find ourselves at the backyard stage. It's the NYC-based blogger BrooklynVegan's showcase, and with Magic Hat beer and these random alcoholic ice tea's offered for free - while stocks last - it seems as good a place as any to wipe away last night's cobwebs, get some sun, and enjoy some kick-ass bands.

Opening proceedings are Canadians Rural Alberta Advantage. The three-piece embrace the pop sensibilities of Shout Out Louds, but despite the best efforts of glockenspielist (yes that's right, I went there) Amy Cole to keep things light, there are some definite heavier moments when lead singer Nils Edenhoff lets off a little steam. After a little while standing in the shed is a little too much - it's only 1pm after all - so respite is found on the bleachers to the left. And while the thumping bass from ___________ (insert metal band name here) is a little distracting, it's still easy to zone out a little in the shade, sipping ice tea from plastic cups.

1:30 sees four-piece California outfit The Morning Benders take to the stage. It's very pleasant alt-country, even if a little bass heavy. Drawing on Beach Boys-esque harmonies to push their good-time message across, The Morning Benders more than hold their own. But as the crowd builds in the springtime sun, there's a sense of anticipation that things might be about to get louder...

Japandroids are Vancouver's answer to Akron's Black Keys - a duo of intense garage rock, intent on pulling ears off, wearing them as jewellery and ensuring everyone dances their ass off. Despite this being a cruelly short set, they put on a killer live show. With epic tunes like Young Hearts Start Fire in their arsenal, you get the feeling that Japandroids could drop a 2 hour set and do it with style. It's mid-afternoon and the crowd is undeniably press-heavy, but their high energy and bright red microphone are impossible to ignore. They're playing what seems like dozens of shows over the next few days, and this writer is going to be looking around every corner to catch another glimpse.

Chatting with Anastasia from Aussie label Crucial Music (while she discreetly distributes flyers for Melbourne outfit Children Collide), it is with some surprise to see the homeless-looking guy I saw on the street get on stage with his band. That 'homeless man' is Patrick Stickles, and the band is New Jersey's Titus Andronicus. Although this day has been amazing so far, Titus raise the bar with their varied rock'n'roll stylings. From 12-bar blues to punkabilly tunes, it is pleasing to the ears, so expect big things from this crew. Melodic at times, with keyboards that you can actually hear (rather than blending in to make more background noise) Stickles & co. deliver the goods.

Local hombres The Black Angels take to the stage at 3:45, and in true Wednesday afternoon-style, they kick some serious aural ass. Having discovered the band a few years ago courtesy of their 2006 debut album "Passover" it was easy to be initially impressed but not blown away by their distortion-and-reverb-heavy, stoner rock. Live, however, they deliver in style, riding high on their crazy fans and gifted with a much longer set than earlier bands.

Next up on the billing is Wu-Tang Clan's GZA, but disappointingly the man is not to be seen. Instead Toronto, Canada's Fucked Up take up the attention of the whole place with an aural barrage of unexpected brilliance. Hardcore never sounded so good. Although it's difficult enough to hear singer Father Damian aka Pink Eyes' lyrics, that doesn't matter. The previously subdued crowd get right into the action too, and finally we can see some bodies crashing into each other. A little early for this little birdy (despite the free booze drying up, $3 Heniekens and good conversation by the bar are a little too enticing), but it's good to see nonetheless dudes and dudettes feeding off the band's energy.

We managed to catch up with Pink Eyes post-show while being herded out of the venue, and despite the band having not made it to 'Strayan shores yet, fear not faithful compatriots. Fucked Up will get there, "as soon as we can sort it out".

It's still St Patrick's Day, so a pint of the black stuff is in order. Unfortunately for Austin-ites (Austin-ers, Austin-ians, people who live in Austin), someone misread the recipe, and the Guinness here tastes like absolute shite. Pretentious, maybe, but I feel I've tippled enough liquid meals in this guise to know something about the stuff. This is downright terrible. Fortunately, free green jell-o shots eased the anger that is boiling inside, and before things get too out of control, it's almost 8pm and time for some more music.

Australian readers should be able to acknowledge Something For Kate's lead singer Paul Dempsey without too much hassle. However seeing him tonight at the Valhalla on Red River St, he is unrecognisable due to the fact that he's playing in front of no more than 20 people (there are more people in the toilets doing lines of cocaine than on the floor here). Drunk old Texan women in the main bar next door aren't helping his cause, and it is disappointing to see Dempsey's lyrically rich songs fall on such deaf ears. In what could be construed as an attempt to reach out to the local populous, he drops into his set a flawless acoustic rendition of Bruce Springsteen's Born to Run. But seeing a side-stage tecchie point out that there's time for only 'one more song' was surreal if anything, and just goes to show that no matter what you might've done in a past life, SXSW is a different beast altogether.

It was time to part ways with Bunny Brown, as I joined the throng of people lining up to get into Stubb's, to see Sharon Jones & the Dap-Kings. Arguably this stage is pulling the biggest names of the festival (Motorhead last night, Scissor Sisters and the much-rumoured Muse also scheduled to perform over the weekend) and the diminutive Jones fucking owns it. With her 8-piece, horn-laden Dap-Kings providing her the tightest of all trampolines to bounce off, she struts her stuff, shaking that 4 foot-8 body like it's owned by the devil himself. Of course, belting out numbers like When the Saints go Marching In is bound to keep the Dark One at arm's length, but it's hard not to feel a little possessed when her voice is so perfect, the band so choice, and the set is damn sweet.

On the same stage at 11pm are Broken Bells, so I take the time between sets to chat to some randoms. Turns out Bill Murray is in town, and the couple from Houston I meet caught up with him today. Something to do with a pedicab driver, a movie cinema, and a whole bunch of weed...

To be brutally honest, Broken Bells were a little disappointing. One of the most hyped acts for the festival, the collaboration between the Shins' front man James Mercer and producer extraordinaire Danger Mouse a.k.a. Brian Burton (he of Gnarls Barkley, and Jay-Z/the Beatles' Grey Album fame) seems a little one-sided. The duo, backed by a 5-piece band, played a show during the day today, and Bill Murray's friends reckon it was better then. The sound quality has much less excitement than the Dap-Kings produced, with the bass-heavy and vocal-light sound not giving enough emphasis to Mercer's lyrics. The performance, too, lacks much bite, and it's difficult to get caught up in the moment.

The biggest disappointment however, is that as a 'collaboration', it seems as though it is Mercer's side project, rather than Danger Mouse's. Whereas expectations were of a more, well, collaborative sound, it sounds like the Shins without the fun, and some extra electronic drums. Which is not a bad thing necessarily (it was, despite the poor sound quality, a nice set), but I was hoping for a little more balls from behind the kit and in the bass lines. Oh well, can't have it all.

The rendez-vous with Bunny Brown 6 blocks away sees a late-night exploration of Austin alleyways, throngs of people, and clusters of police patrolling with intense authority in their eyes. But it's totally worth it to see Belgian three-piece Experimental Tropic Blues Band. Playing in a makeshift shed, it feels as though we're at a 21st birthday in the country for a kid with very few friends. But the dozen people watching belie the fact that this group is blatantly off the hook. Throwing themselves around the stage (and the concrete floor where we stand) the band belt through their hard, fast, bluesy set with no thought to the consequence. Reminiscent in sound of Japan's Guitar Wolf - although looking decidedly not as cool - it is a bizarre, almost surreal experience. And with the band playing more gigs over the weekend, well, the hype starts here.

Last on the list for Wednesday night activities are Swedish electro-nauts Miike Snow. The popularity of the band is noticeable, with a 45-minute lineup outside ("but dude, I've got a pass!"), however the band is half an hour late on stage so thankfully none of their set is missed. There are a few hundred people crowded under a white tent, the only problem being the forest of tall men who I find myself standing directly behind. For some reason I feel like Max from Where the Wild Things Are. The set is pure nordic bliss, the band expertly driving between serene, The Knife-like lows to all-time highs during their bigger hits Sylvia and closer Animal. It's a great, but ever-so-slightly predictable end to a memorable day.

The hunt for a cab is less painful than it could've been, now here we are. It's time for bed. Sorry feet, but tomorrow's another big day.

D.

Welcome to Austin

Rain. Sweet, sweet rain. As if a 16 hour day of trans-continental transit yesterday wasn't enough, we touched down at midnight to the Big Cheese upstairs letting go like he's been holding in a prostate for the last month. And today, Day Zero of South by Southwest 2010, seems like He's still letting loose. As if to rub salt into the wound, this is the day for exploring Austin - checking out the Convention Centre, sniffing out the venues, and hopefully finding a place to buy a cord to upload some photos (not that there's much to photograph for non-rain buffs).
Motorhead are on at Stubb's tonight - an unofficial SXSW gig but an absolute bitching way to start the week off. Lemmy is doing a presentation as part of the Conference, but seeing as attending that will be a waste of precious Band-Seeing Time, tonight is the one and only night for some facial hair metal.
Right. It's time to locate some sort of rain-cloaking device (most probably in the form of some garbage bags) and get in there. If I'm not swept away I shall return...
d.