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.
