Having missed out on last year’s South By Southwest Festival for various reasons, AUK’s occasional foreign correspondent Oliver Gray returned to the fray this year, accompanied, as always, by his intrepid chum Paul Dominy on photo duty. They valiantly scootered round Austin on your behalf and here’s Oliver’s take on five days of nonstop music with some familiar names and others less so.
Tuesday
It’s all a matter of taste of course, but given that Creedence Clearwater Revival was the quintessential unfussy, uncomplicated four-piece band, the reworking of those tunes by John Fogerty and his enormously overpopulated ensemble, featuring various of his sons, is over the top and fell slightly flat with the packed Stubb’s audience. His lengthy, obsessive speeches about the copyright issues with his songs were tedious and ‘Proud Mary’ definitely does not need a saxophonist drivelling all over it. Meantime, I was fuming because of having to spend $20 to lock up my backpack in a hotel over the road because Stubb’s doesn’t allow anything larger than a phone in. This conveniently allowed most of the audience to film the entire show, obscuring the view for people like me.
Wednesday
First target of the Wednesday was a million miles away in C-Boy’s with the Greyhounds, confusing me because I initially thought they were The Sheepdogs. Ah, band names. This came out of a new exploratory technique of following tips from Paul’s Tulsa pal Jason, and what a find. Greyhounds were funky, cool and with an irresistible groove. This was a quintessentially Austin band at a classic Austin venue. C-Boy’s, with its indoor and outdoor stages and its 100% roots music policy, is the kind of place where, if you wanted to (and plenty do) you could spend the whole of every day.
Another example of the quality of the SoCo Stomp (SoCo the local term for the South Congress district) at C-Boy’s was a quite staggering performance from Will Johnson and his new band Wire Mountain. The interaction between Will and guitarist Ricky Ray Jackson (of Phosphorescent) brought to mind Neil Young at his very finest. Indeed, one member of the audience was advising “Save the £175 fee to see Neil Young in Hyde Park and go see Will instead”. There’s a small possibility he might be over in Europe next year (on a break from Jason Isbell duties) so that’s an enticing prospect.
I then headed for the air-conditioned peace of the Convention Center (shortly to be demolished, incidentally) for another rewarding feature of South by South West, namely a book launch and talk by Simon Raymonde, describing his unique career as a musician and record company boss. There could hardly have been a better way to follow this than with Bella Union’s latest signing, Amsterdam’s Personal Trainer. The tongue-in-cheek melodies and whimsical presentation brought to mind Deaf School. The setting was another classic and unmissable Austin venue, Lazarus Brewery, home of some gorgeous beer, including my favourite rice lager Time Machine. For five days every year, Orlando Torres and Michael Thomas present seven bands a day here, most of them indie in nature, and from all over the world. Many of them are destined for future stardom on account of the excellent taste of the organisers who also run a great radio station In San Antonio called Music For Listeners.
A long haul then took us back to Stubb’s where there was something a little dated and underwhelming about Band Of Horses. The packed-out crowd showed their wide appeal, but boy, have they come a long way from their restrained early days, now preferring rock bombast, which eventually forced us (and half the audience) to retreat. Luckily, we had previously been able to relax a little in the much plusher confines of the Moody Theater where the inimitable Larkin Poe were thrilling all with their gutsy, intense instrumentation and unflashy presentation. They’re a great example of a rootsy band that’s broken through into the mainstream.
Thursday
Thursday started with another entertaining book presentation, this time from Steve Wynn of the Dream Syndicate, who also illustrated his extracts with musical examples. In total contrast, the deliciously grotty Side Bar was playing host to jumping New Yorkers My Son The Doctor and the truly fabulous and incredibly hard-working Courettes. On the sun-baked patio, the gentlemen of a certain age attempting to hold singer Flavia up after her stage dive looked rather exhausted at the end of it. A quick visit to Valhalla confirmed that the lively Canadian post-punkers La Sécurité are a worthy addition to the Bella Union stable, which this year, unusually, didn’t have a label showcase.
Back At Lazarus, Louis Elliott of Rialto, sans band for some reason, won over an initially slightly inattentive audience with some old classics and beautiful new songs from his forthcoming ‘Neon And Ghost Signs’ album. Finishing with astonishing new single ‘No One Leaves This Discothèque Alive’, he seems to be In the process of a successful comeback.
Now it was time to brave the dreaded British Music Embassy, a cloyingly incestuous event that I have traditionally hated. Despite an improved venue (two alternating rooms and reasonable drinks prices), nothing happened to change my mind. Having arrived early in order not to miss Sam Ryder, we had to stand through a succession of truly useless acts, from faux country to fake rap, with a preponderance of backing tracks. Luckily all was forgiven with a towering solo performance from Sam Ryder. Yes, that Eurovision chap but any prejudice against him based on his Eurovision past are misplaced. The initial song ‘Heartland’ was reminiscent of PJ Harvey’s ‘To Bring You My Love’. You’d want this amiable troubadour to be your best friend. His astonishing voice and disarming manner, plus the quality of his songs add up to true stardom. His vocal performance at times was reminiscent of Marvin Gaye. Playing rock songs solo with an electric guitar is a hard thing to do but he pulled it off consummately, especially in his jaw-dropping version of David Crosby’s’ ‘Almost Cut My Hair’.
Friday
The next tip from Paul’s pal Jason was Ken Pomeroy. My knowledge of Ken’s being limited to Ken Dodd, Ken Clarke and Kenneth Wolstenhome, it was a shock to discover that Ken Pomeroy is female. This Tulsa native is a country-ish singer, prone to singing songs about her dog. It was a pleasant way to start the day but things soon got a lot livelier with Gurriers. Very much a post-Fontaines band but with more raucousness and rushing around, they gave the Mohawk venue a lunchtime battering with enthusiastic midday moshing. By classic SXSW contrast, next door at Cheer Up Charlie’s were the charmingly mellifluous Everything But The Girl sounds of Lake, featuring Eli Moore and Andrew Dorsett from Karl Blau’s band, soothing the angry soul.
Across town, bidding a sad farewell to Waterloo Records (they are moving premises) The Deslondes, with their languid harmonies, evoked the dusty spirit of The Band. It was just blissful and rather poignant as they’d had a long association with the store. Serendipity then took us back past the doors of BD Riley’s Irish bar, now rather unappealingly called Dead Rabbit. This has been the venue for us in previous years to see the Strypes and Fontaines DC just before they broke big. This year’s up-and-comers Gurriers were scheduled so in we dived, really early, for Dose Two. This enabled us to catch great young Irish bands Annie-Dog and Wynona Beach from Belfast. The latter were brimming with charisma and coincidentally also had a song about a cat. In the wildly overcrowded pub, Gurriers pretty much pulled the place to pieces with even more thrilling intensity then before.
Having commenced on a plan of watching bands that we’d already seen and loved, it was on to a second session with Personal Trainer at the Side Bar which allowed a closer examination of their idiosyncratic stage act and varying personalities. At festivals and gigs, don’t you often get the urge to relive an act immediately? This is something unique that SXSW offers.
Saturday
Saturday dawned with some lively cobweb-blowing Zydeco at C-Boy’s, followed by Steve Wynn and impressive local musos English Teeth reviving Dream Syndicate songs and covering the Velvet Underground and Big Star. Next, having to choose between a take-it-or-leave-it REM tribute and Chuck Prophet’s new Cumbia compadres ¿Qiensave? was a tough choice, but a visit to the iconic Continental Club is compulsory once a year and ¿Qiensave?’’s irresistible dance rhythms entranced the audience.
Brummie newcomers Big Special, like so many of the week’s acts, are in debt to Mark E Smith. Like a more commercial and melodic version of Sleaford Mods, they are surely going places. And is it time for a Mod revival? The Molotovs certainly think it is, with their Rickenbacker, their Sta-Prest trousers, their scissor kicks, their Weller obsession and a remarkable secret weapon in the form of bassist Issey Carts. None of them are yet 21 yet they take us back over 40 years to times that were arguably more joyful. And for that, we must sincerely thank them.
Oliver Gray and Paul Dominy have been attending SXSW annually since 2003 and Gray has collected his writings on the festival in his latest book, AUSTIN HEALING, Cautionary Tales From 20 Years of SXSW which AUK reviewed here.
Such a pleasure to read Oliver’s views while noticing there were many acts mentioned I’ve not heard of: some checking is in order.