The barriers between bands and fans dissolved for the week; artists I watched on stage one night (Ted Leo, Electric Six) were crammed into the same tiny rock clubs the next. I saw Pelle Almqvist (the Hives) with his girlfriend, Maria Andersson (Sahara Hotnights), at a couple of different bars, including one that hosted a private Vice party with the Rapture (whom I like on record, but who were pretty goddamn dull live).
...And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead played an utterly fantastic set. They didn't trash their equipment like they've done in the past; they're past the gimmicks. The members rotated instruments and were accompanied by a small string section, playing recent and new material that was both overpowering and beautiful. Speaking of breakage: Poor garage legend Tim Kerr broke his leg in two places during a show at a tiny hole-in-the-wall club called Beerland. He was playing with the Total Sound Group Direct Action Committee, climbing onto benches and running through the crowd, when he somehow landed wrong three songs into their set.
The only other calamities at SXSW involved music, not hospital trips. Racebannon played to a nearly empty club, but didn't act like they gave a shit. They sounded like someone with multiple personality disorder having an instrumental screaming match with all his imagined selves at once. Incredibly noisy, but there was a method to their madness--the rhythm section sounded at times like Sonic Youth, and their DJ scratched records and twiddled knobs until it felt like planes were taking off in the building.
On the opposite end of the spectrum, the Polyphonic Spree were a salve amid all the high-energy noise. The 23-piece band's members were dressed in their signature white robes; the group incorporated a dancing choral section, a theremin player, a harpist, a horn section, drummers, and other stuff I just can't remember. They looked like a polygamous cult but sounded like the Flaming Lips, singing about holidays and celebrations with such pure joy that you'd have to be made of pure evil not to come away from them beaming (luckily, they're coming to Graceland in April). The only other time I've seen that many people on stage in Austin was when the Sugarhill Gang played a private after-hours warehouse party and pulled lots of ladies on stage to dance with them.
There were plenty of excellent art-damaged bands performing in Austin as well. Crammed into the window of one of the smaller clubs, the Octopus Project jammed on experimental post-rock with a dance beat. Kill Me Tomorrow (who play the Vera Project on Saturday) played hypnotic no wave with a drum machine/drummer, dual male/female vocals, and looped-in noises that sounded like elephants roaring. The 90 Day Men sounded like a less intense Trail of Dead, but worked the same beautiful, angular demons. Former Sebadoh drummer Eric Gaffney's new band, Fields of Gaffney, was another highlight. Gaffney plays guitar now, and his band sounds a lot like Sebadoh, but dirtier.
There were too many buzz bands (Whirlwind Heat, the Eighties Matchbox B-Line Disaster, the Icarus Line) present for there to be any one big breakout act in Austin, but I'd definitely put money on Longwave, who sound like the missing shoegazer link between the Strokes and Interpol. And even though they had a quieter crowd, the Velvet Teen's Pleasure Forever-on-a-Kool-Aid-kick pop was an instant hit at the Yard Dog art gallery's annual daytime BBQ. (The Velvet Teen play at the Langston Hughes Performing Arts Center on Saturday.)
Although there was plenty of subversive music, the statement of the week (besides the "War is cool" sign that poster artist extraordinaire Frank Kozik carried around during a big antiwar protest) came during the New Times party (which featured a Camper Van Beethoven reunion). In a little fuck-you to the New Times newsweekly chain (after taking its money to play, of course), Camper's bassist took the stage wearing a T-shirt that said, "Corporate weeklies still suck." Pretty damn funny. Speaking of corporate weeklies, The Stranger had its own popular party down there, with appearances by Visqueen, the Minus 5, and the winning bands from our reader's choice contest: Radio Nationals, the Turn-Ons, Alta May, and Memphis Radio Kings.
And finally, a couple of good tips I got while in Austin: Beware of bartenders who make their margaritas with Everclear (what are those Austin bars thinking?), and the French House at the University of Texas lets touring bands sleep at their co-op. That last piece of information was gained in the wee hours of Sunday morning, when I closed out my week there at a house party with the Norwegian band WE.
Now that it's all over, my one question is: When can I do it again?
