A Sigh of Relief

Now that SXSW 2007 is a memory and I'm back in Washington, I'm just relieved that no national tragedy broke out in Austin, necessitating my having to post heartsick missives to NPR as one of its only two correspondents on the scene. With my scant live radio experience, I would have probably wound up wailing, "Oh, the humanity!" or "IT WAS A BABY!" and everyone would have found me amateurish and improper and derivative. After all, everyone's a critic these days.

-- Stephen Thompson

11:48 PM ET | 03-18-2007 | permalink | comments (0) | e-mail post | trackbacks (0)

Bran Van 3000 and the Babysitter Rule

South by Southwest is a surreal spectacle in a lot of ways, and it's fascinating to watch the way relentless buzz makes people stand in line for things they probably wouldn't bother with otherwise. A few years back, a band called Bran Van 3000 was putting out a record, and its SXSW showcase attracted a line outside that stretched for blocks. I remember thinking, "These guys wouldn't sell out a coffeehouse in Madison." I mean, there was nothing wrong with Bran Van 3000, but let's not get carried away, you know? Should you really skip something you know you like, just because you'd miss something people are talking about?

That dilemma affects virtually everyone at SXSW every year, and it brings to mind an ongoing debate I've had with my dear friend and fellow NPR blogger Neda Ulaby. She and I have engaged in a few philosophical discussions about how to approach the festival -- okay, we drank beer and talked about what bands we wanted to see -- and we follow virtually opposite guidelines. She only wanted to check out things she'd never seen before, whereas I refused to pass up stuff I knew I already loved. She was looking for illuminating angles and ways to tell a story, and I followed "The Babysitter Rule," wherein I wouldn't skip a show I'd hire a sitter for at home.

Both approaches are understandable given our respective circumstances: Neda is a gifted reporter who loves to view subjects from many perspectives over time, while I'm an obsessive fanboy recluse who spends far more time wolfing Cheetos Puffs, shelving CDs, and watching The Amazing Race after the kids go to bed than he spends exploring the D.C. nightlife. Both of us found a lot of what we were looking for -- Neda gathered stories and I bought a Bloodhag T-shirt -- while rarely seeing shows in the same place at the same time.

Sampling hundreds of recordings in preparation for SXSW made me think a lot about the endless diversity of music, musicians, and music fans today. There's a saying that goes, "90 percent of everything is crap," but it's fascinating to see how that 90 percent is different for each individual. One of the joys of SXSW lies in its ability to provide a different experience and different epiphanies for each music fan. I only hope that this blog -- not to mention the dozens of live sessions we've streamed with the aid of NPR member stations -- has been a worthwhile reflection of what readers would want to get out of the festival. If not, there's always 2008, right?

-- Stephen Thompson

11:42 PM ET | 03-18-2007 | permalink | comments (2) | e-mail post | trackbacks (0)

The WFUV Road Trip

Before this blog fades into the voluminous NPR archives, alongside hundreds of old Song of the Day entries and that comedic play they did on Morning Edition, here's one more SXSW missive from WFUV colleague Rita Houston.

It's an odd experience to take in live music in the daytime (audio), but that's part of the experience in Austin. Then again, it's pretty unusual to drink margaritas at noon, too. [Wait... it is? --ST] It actually all started for me with Forro in the Dark at breakfast! Next time you're in Austin, you must check out Las Manitas -- I recommend the vegetarian Huevos Especial con Migas washed down with a watermelon aqua fresca. Two tables down offered me the opportunity for the first pounce of the day: Martha Wainwright. Alisa wasted no time pouncing on her faves, Cold War Kids, who will likely emerge from SXSW with a much higher profile. A stop at a Starbucks for a mid-day, post-margarita pick-me-up was music-filled, with the CSNY-style pop of Low Stars, who played acoustic over the din of barista calls of "Venti Venti Venti." Alisa headed south while I went east; she found Money Mark, Aqualung and a grilled cheese, while I found some fancy sushi and sake.

-- Stephen Thompson

2:38 PM ET | 03-18-2007 | permalink | comments (0) | e-mail post | trackbacks (0)

Long Lines and Crossed Wires

During the course of the festival, I kept hearing a lot of the same names: So-and-so was amazing! Such-and-such was playing its single, and Pete Townshend hopped on stage! Many breakthrough acts made a lot of strong impressions on a lot of people, and... well, I didn't see them. But I thought I was going to, so I had our audio guys create streams for their songs before I left. Here are a few tracks by acts who 1) drew Gnarls Barkley-sized buzz at SXSW this year; and 2) went unseen by me, probably because I took one look at the line outside and said, "Pffft."

The Fratellis, "Flathead" (audio)
Lily Allen, "LDN" (audio)
Amy Winehouse, "Rehab" (audio)

-- Stephen Thompson

1:21 PM ET | 03-18-2007 | permalink | comments (0) | e-mail post | trackbacks (0)

Sore Feet and the Sound of Sound

In the 14 or 15 hours since my last post -- the last two of which were spent miserably wandering Austin's streets looking for a cab and shaking my fist at the heavens -- there's been a honkload of music to catch up on. The bloggers' party I mentioned in a previous post featured, among other bands, Page France, whose off-kilter pop was praised in Song of the Day here a few months back. And rightfully so: God knows I hear a lot of quirky indie-pop acts, but this one's songs are built of the right stuff, namely hooks.

Outrageously long lines discouraged entry to the likes of Field Music and Midlake, whose "Roscoe" (audio) is fantastic either because or in spite of the fact that it starts out sounding just like Fleetwood Mac. At one point, so many shows were inaccessible that I passed the time by ducking into a club just because I knew it would be selling Bloodhag T-shirts. Bloodhag's inscrutable grindcore metal songs are written entirely to celebrate science-fiction writers -- here's "Anne McCaffrey" (audio) -- but in my mind, it's all window dressing for awesome album art and merchandise. Even though popping in to buy a shirt meant listening to some of Jello Biafra's joyless spoken-word hectoring, it was totally worth it: My new Bloodhag shirt features a horned skull wearing reading glasses. Seriously, what the hell could be better?

Buying a Bloodhag shirt provided a natural segue into the adult-contemporary song stylings of Irish singer Fionn Regan -- a major up-and-comer who, like about 350 other Europeans with acoustic guitars, sounds like he might be the next Damien Rice. Fortunately, and crucially, he's got some nice songs to back up his aims: Here's "Be Good or Be Gone" (audio) from his debut album, which comes out here in June.

After a much-needed stop to see gifted Twin Cities rapper Brother Ali -- here's his wonderful celebration of being ugly, "Forest Whitiker" (audio) -- the night's remainder was all about raging against the dying of my feet. But I did get to see one of several SXSW performances (here's one from NPR station KEXP) by the reunited Stooges, led by singer Iggy Pop, who turns 60 next month and has probably never complained about his feet in his life. Given the abuse his body has taken over the years, watching Pop jump around like a 19-year-old gave me much-needed perspective as the festival wound to a close: Iggy Pop is a spastic force of nature, whereas I am a weak, creaky-jointed, prune-eating crybaby old-timer who can't wait to go to bed. Rock 'n' roll!

-- Stephen Thompson

5:28 AM ET | 03-18-2007 | permalink | comments (1) | e-mail post | trackbacks (0)

Looking for a Challenge

I thought it would be a major accomplishment to be the biggest nerd at a party full of bloggers, but these people are all pretty cool. I didn't even have to step up my game!

-- Stephen Thompson

2:36 PM ET | 03-17-2007 | permalink | comments (0) | e-mail post | trackbacks (0)

"Fifty Thousand Dollars?!"

Okay, first a bit of backstory: The Milwaukee band The Promise Ring was a bit of a hot item in the '90s, getting featured in Spin and otherwise serving as a standard-bearer for the genre dubbed "emo" -- for lack of a better definition, rock that wears its heart on its sleeve. (Jimmy Eat World has been called emo, while Dashboard Confessional brings it a ways over the top.)

Around that time, my friend Nathan was at some party or other, and he ran into a guy who unleashed an unsolicited tirade against The Promise Ring -- which was, a presumable byproduct of having attracted attention outside Wisconsin, a bunch of pitiful corporate lapdog sellouts. "Did you know," the guy asked Nathan, "that those guys made fifty thousand dollars last year?" This was, of course, an appallingly ostentatious sum of money for four guys to collectively make in a year of appearing in magazines, releasing an album, and touring the country.

Nathan and I always used to laugh about that -- the idea that successful musicians are constantly at risk of "selling out" every time they entertain the idea of signing with a major label or getting their music on a TV commercial, when most of them make less money than the average sandwich-assembler at Subway. A member of The Promise Ring makes $12,500 in a year, and that makes him a sellout? I'm thrilled when my favorite bands get Gap ads or TV themes, because it means they're far less likely to become customer-service reps somewhere.

A few years back, I ran into singer Davey von Bohlen and drummer Dan Didier, who've since disbanded The Promise Ring and formed Maritime (which played here last night). I told them Nathan's story, and they laughed heartily before Davey said, "The awesome thing about that is that we never made that much money in a year. I have no idea where that guy even heard that."

Food for thought the next time you're debating whether to drop $10 for a T-shirt at a rock show.

-- Stephen Thompson

12:23 PM ET | 03-17-2007 | permalink | comments (0) | e-mail post | trackbacks (0)

More Rock, Less Talk

Just a thought -- a quick one. SXSW isn't just about seeing bands and drinking beer. (It's true, Stephen.) There are also panels, all day long, every day, on topics ranging from marketing and merchandising to intellectual property to new trends in music. Maybe I've just hit the worst-attended panels, but I've been surprised by the sparseness of their audiences. Concurrently, about a billion companies have started throwing day parties with free food, free booze, a dollop of swag (think CDs and T-shirts) and crowd-grabbing headliners.

Even a music-industry wonk like me hesitates for a long minute when given the choice between attending a panel on a topic I care about and seeing current It Musicians like Amy Winehouse and Mika playing in a courtyard on a beautiful day.

-- Neda Ulaby

11:28 AM ET | 03-17-2007 | permalink | comments (1) | e-mail post | trackbacks (0)

Dark Horses and Suspect Tips

Every so often over the past few days, I've looked around and muttered, "I'm attending a massive International Conference of Bar Bands." That's partly my fault. I'm into checking out bands from weird places, following incredibly suspect tips, and I've been known to troop off to see, say, a rumba-punk fusion band from Wales if their drummer compliments my haircut in the taco line.

That said, I'm passing on some suspect tips of my own. Among the dark horses of this year's festival are Bone Box from Manchester, England -- dreamy, dirge-y, wonderful. There's St. Vincent, the brainchild of 23-year-old Annie Clark, who happens to be the niece of Tuck & Patti. She's a member of The Polyphonic Spree and she's played with outfits like Television and Tracy + The Plastics. And finally, folks here have been awed by the showmanship of Sharon Jones & The Dap-Kings, an ensemble that one audience member described as "a Motown-style soul diva backed up by a bunch of nerdy guys in suits. And they take the love they have for each other and they pour it into the audience."

Today, I'm hoping to check out The Fratellis, Paolo Nutini... oh, yes, and a band called Hypernova from Tehran, Iran.

-- Neda Ulaby

11:22 AM ET | 03-17-2007 | permalink | comments (0) | e-mail post | trackbacks (0)

"A Bar Is Just a Church Where They Serve Beer"

My Friday evening's festivities commenced with Jim White, a playfully eccentric singer-songwriter with a gift for both unsettling murder ballads and hilarious between-song chitchat. Among his standout lines, "A bar is just a church where they serve beer" set the stage for a night strafed with spiritually uplifting highlights.

For one thing, a bar may well be a church where they serve beer, but every SXSW, the Central Presbyterian Church turns into a bar where people actually shut up and stop networking long enough to listen to shows. The awed hush and ample seating more than compensate for the lack of alcohol; I guess they didn't want the sound of clinking bottles to detract from the music, huh? Anyway, NPR station KCRW sponsored an appealing lineup inside what emcee Chris Douridas appropriately called "a sanctuary," leading off with Norwegian singer-songwriter Thomas Dybdahl. The oft-wonderful Dybdahl -- for evidence, here's "A Lovestory" (audio) -- even took questions from the audience without fear of Norwegian-accented heckling.

From there, the agonizing choice between Clem Snide and Adem -- two acts I'd happily drive at least an hour to see on any given night -- was decided in part by a chance encounter with friends heading to the former. As I've noted in a previous post, Clem Snide's new songs sound amazing, though my long-running fandom could theoretically qualify as bias at this point. And skipping Adem was probably a wise move anyway: Superb singer-songwriter Laura Gibson played the same little tent/patio stage an hour later, and she spent the entire set fighting to be heard over what sounded like five nearby metal bands. (Which would probably have put a damper on my traditional Adem-viewing ritual of snorfling like a little girl.)

After Gibson, the night turned into an epic grudge match between two overpowering impulses -- soaking in more bands vs. soaking my aching feet -- and believe it or not, the former more or less won out. The Swedish power-pop band The Faintest Ideas proved as charming onstage as it does on "You're Beautiful" (audio), though I ultimately regretted skipping a big chunk of its show to see Chad VanGaalen: After walking for what seemed like a mile, I arrived to discover that the Canadian had been denied entry to the U.S. for SXSW. Which makes sense, because nothing says "grave national-security risk" quite like reclusive singer/songwriters from Calgary. A grateful nation breathed a sign of relief, but asked nicely for me to post the sweet-but-unnerving "Build a Home Like a Bee" (audio), from VanGaalen's Infiniheart.

Midnight's slot belonged to an old favorite, the Milwaukee band Maritime, which combines two of my favorite things: sweetly infectious power-pop and being from Wisconsin. "Tearing Up the Oxygen" (audio) sums up the group's appeal nicely, but I'll post more on Maritime after taking a shower -- speaking of a grateful nation -- and recommending a moment with the lovely Beach House. The Baltimore band closed the long night with some dreamy and inscrutable atmospherics; here's "Saltwater" (audio).

-- Stephen Thompson

10:47 AM ET | 03-17-2007 | permalink | comments (0) | e-mail post | trackbacks (0)