All photos and video by Zack Teibloom
You’re walking briskly through the dark, a slight wind whispering through your hair, as tree roots present themselves like a Disney cartoon, seemingly meant for you to hop from one to the other as crunchy, fallen leaves collect and form a path leading you downtown. You no longer remember what day it is, and time is only meaningful as a marker for where you need to be, and what band you’re about to see. You’re so exhausted that other people and structure are flying past you in big blocks of color, but you just keep walking, determined not to miss that next band that you just really, truly have to see.
This is South by Southwest. It is constantly flitting from one show to the next on an almost-empty stomach, grabbing free breakfast tacos here and there when time permits. It is a creature with such a short lifespan, that you devote yourself, mind, body and spirit to it so that you can get the most enjoyment out of it as is humanly possible. This is what the festival brought me this year, and despite seeing fewer bands than I normally am able to, I feel that it was one of my most successful fests to date.
It’s really, really difficult sometimes to balance being a fan, and being a music journalist. South by Southwest is a music conference initially spawned so industry types could discover great new music, but it has morphed into one huge, week-long party where bands wear themselves out playing every back alley and radio set they can possibly fit into their day, and college students no longer leave town for Cancun, but stay put for the free drinks. Personally, I strive to see up-and-comers perform during South by, while making sure that I spend some time with my established favorites as a music-lovers’ birthday treat to myself. So, this was my mindset entering the conference, and it all kicked off when I left work Tuesday, March 13 at 5PM.
Step 1 in any South by Southwest I’ve ever attended has been hitting up the convention center to pick up my music badge. For the first four years, I purchased my own badge as a humongous birthday gift to myself, since my birthday is always in the middle of SXSWeek. The past 3 years, however, I have had the great fortune of attending the fest on behalf of M Music Magazine, so they’ve hooked me up with a badge to do coverage and be their eyes and ears on the scene.
I grabbed my badge just in the nick of time (we arrived at the convention center at 8:56PM, and badge pick-up ended at 9) and were even able to get Zack’s wristband he was purchasing from me, despite initially being told wristband pick-up was closed. We then marched straight downtown to the Hype Hotel to get our wristbands for that, and to check out some musical acts there for the night.
The line for wristband pick-up at the Hype Hotel was seemingly endless, but I refused to cut it (to Zack’s frustration), and so we waited in line until we were finally able to check in. As a happy surprise, I was given an Industry wristband and “hotel key,” which allowed me to cut the line after all, and I brought Zack with me. We wandered around the venue, grabbed a couple of free drinks with the drink tickets supplied to us, and then chowed down on free Taco Bell tacos (a soft bean-and-cheese for me, and a Dorito-shelled Taco Loco for Zack, which he fell in love with). They were tasty and just what the night ordered, and gave us energy to settle into the crowd for Miniature Tigers.
I first saw Miniature Tigers when they opened for Freelance Whales, and was blown away. I actually thought they stole the show, with sweet, upbeat and dancey pop-rock that immediately stuck in my head. This particular night, they seemed a bit tired — or maybe that was just us. I don’t love their new album, Mia Pharaoh, and most of their setlist was made up of those new songs. They did throw us a bone with “Bullfighter Jacket,” but otherwise, the room was becomingly noticeably more stuffy — and mixed with people eating bean-and-cheese tacos, it felt like we were trapped in an oven that was heated by human flatulence. It was close to torturous.
Luckily, Dale Earnhardt Jr. Jr. know how to distract. In fact, they simply rejuvenate. It can be a hot-as-hell Texas summer day during the Austin City Limits festival, and they’ll throw out a pack of popsicles and a bunch of happy, energetic rock jams to get your groove back. At Hype Hotel, they simply gave it all they got. “Skeletons” was a soft, sweet sing-along, whereas “It’s a Corporate World” was rambunctious and punky. Singer Joshua Epstein especially felt the energy, as he climbed to the front of the stage, stretching his arms upward to try to hang from the ceiling. When that failed, his eyes full of fire, he scanned the audience near-frantic, found his victim, and pointed at the unassuming fan, mouthing, “You!” The guy semi-froze, and Epstein dove shoulder-first into the crowd, surfing for a moment before being tossed gently back onstage. The guys closed everything out with “Nothing But Our Love,” and as they proclaimed in harmony, “Baby, everyone has some worth,” their light show beamed brightly behind them. Standing in the fifth row, the glow was so bright it was almost blinding, but even as I closed my eyes, it felt warm and inclusive, like driving into the sun on purpose. As Epstein recorded and distorted his voice, it echoed out in robotic urgency, “Deserve!” It was an intensely invigorating climax to one of the best live shows of the entire music conference, and performed on the first official night of it. It left us all in a state of, “Hell, yes.”
Wednesday started off frustratingly. I was set on making it to see Geographer play a set at La Zona Rosa, but as we approached the venue, it became clear that everyone was set on seeing that show — or, at least, the band that came on later. Once we decided there was no way into this venue, we wandered over to Dogwood on east sixth to see a bit of the M Music showcase. It was crowded and we had just caught the tail-end of a band, meaning there was going to be more waiting time before more music, so we went to a different venue in hopes of procuring some libations. Zack had to head to work at that point, so I decided it was time to head to the Drums showcase…that was in 2 and a half hours. When you don’t know what else you want to do, what else would you do? I walked the 5 blocks to Flamingo Cantina, and the line was crazy long, so I hopped into it and prepared myself to wait.
Part of the reason the venue was so packed was because Reggie Watts was performing right at the moment I sauntered up to the venue. I was sad to miss him, but glad that this likely meant there would be some clearing out by the time the Drums went on two sets later. Lo and behold, before Reggie was finished playing his last note, I was in the venue, hanging out with a friend from work. I also ran into my friend Mark, who was filming for Under the Radar, so we chatted it up as I nervously stood right up against the stage, so ready for my Drums to perform.
I had one last obstacle to make it through first, and that was the Love Language. They were a fun, incredibly loud pop-rock band, and the lead singer and band mastermind Stuart McLamb was interesting to watch, donned in jeans and a sleeveless tee with Paul McCartney all 80s-ified on the front. I particularly loved keyboardist Missy Thangs, with wild brown hair and eyes just barely peeking out from under her long, thick bangs. She looked effortless and excited, slamming a tambourine into her clenched fist and jamming out friendly melodies on her keys. They aren’t my new favorite band, but I could easily see how they might be someone’s.
The first thing I noticed while the Drums were being set up, was that guitarist Connor Hanwick was seemingly replaced. There was a new guitarist in his stead, who I described to people as a slightly softer, emo Elijah Wood, and who seemed to fit about as well aesthetically as the drummer (aka stood out like a sore thumb). Still, founding members Jonny and Jacob are the backbone of the band, so I feel confident that as long as we maintain them, I will still love what they come up with.
I felt slightly awkward standing so near the stage — as tall as I am, it’s hard to miss me up there, and Jonny isn’t that tall, so I found that I blocked about half of him from below the stage. However, I quickly forgot my awkwardness as the band launched into “What You Were,” one of my favorite songs off of their newer album, Portamento. The band was kind to fans, mixing their new material with their older songs, and followed up with “Best Friend” from their eponymous debut. “If He Likes It Let Him Do It” made me smile, because Zack tends to sing that to me around the apartment, including singing the high-pitched, eerie synth that follows the lyrical chorus. “How It Ended” slowed things down a bit, but “Money” picked it right back up, and allowed me to channel my inner pogo-ing punk, as I shimmied my shoulders and let everything go. In that first show, “Days” was the most overwhelming song, as Jacob’s synth part swooped in and acted like a Men In Black-style neuralyzer — it gave me chills and made me forget everything that came before it. The guys ended with their most popular singles to date, “Down by the Water,” and “Let’s Go Surfing,” which they had previously retired, but played at every SXSW show I saw this year. Jonny was his usual theatrical self, dancing in herky-jerky patterns and acting out his words and feelings with hand gesture and shoulder-shakes.
Though it was the band’s warm-up set at the conference, this may be my favorite performance I saw, because my energy level was still high enough for me to totally lose myself in everything, dancing like a madwoman. This was also my first fan-vs-reporter moment, where I couldn’t bring myself to approach the band members (though they were easily accessible outside of the venue before their performance), because I was too big of a fan to be able to pull it together and get professional. There are only a few bands in my life that turn me to that much of a jelly-blob dweeb, but the Drums easily make that list.
As I stretched my legs out in the open post-Drums, I made my plan for the night. I went to grab some dinner so I wouldn’t starve to death before the night hit, and ran into my friend Chris Brancato, who I hadn’t seen since we’d interned at Rolling Stone together three years prior. This reunion was one of the happiest accidents I stumbled into, and made the conference feel like something I have finally grown into, after all these years.
After dinner, I headed for Stubb’s to ensure I’d make it in for Sharon van Etten. The line was insanely long, but mostly because folks were still holding out hope that they’d make it inside for Fiona Apple, who was finishing up her set. As she ended her performance with “Criminal,” I tipped my hat to Portlandia and tweeted, “The dream of the 90s is alive in Austin.” Of course, when Fiona was done, I easily made it into Stubb’s and fourth row back for Sharon. Van Etten sounded gorgeous, as usual, and her first few songs had me completely bowled over. However, the pacing of the middle-to-end of her set was slow enough that I started to lose momentum, having been on my feet most of the day and having walked all over the world. My intent was to see the Drums at 1AM with Zack when he got off of work, but he was already fading and thinking he wouldn’t want to join. I decided I’d see how I feel after my next act, and headed out when Sharon was done, across town to the Beale Street Tavern.
I had never been in the Beale Street Tavern, so I didn’t know exactly where it was before Wednesday night rolled around. I found it tucked underneath the Parish — directly underneath. So, while I tried to listen to singer-songwriter Marit Larsen croon bird-like tunes about heartbreak, the thump-thump-thump of whatever dubstep folks were performing upstairs bled through the floorboards, and I feared that Teitur would suffer Larsen’s same fate.
I hadn’t seen Teitur since he forgot to play “Amanda’s Dream” for me on my birthday many South by Southwests ago. He looked exactly the same, ever the boyish haircut-and-face and gentle soul that he is. My feet ached as he was setting up his acoustic guitar and keyboard, so I texted Zack and confirmed we’d call it a night after that.
Teitur opened with the first single off of his new album, “Freight Train,” which is a song about the regrets someone has who lives a safe life. It was more than relatable to me. I’ve always been a rule-follower — partly because I tend to think it’s the right thing to do, and partly because I want desperately to be perceived as doing the right thing, and as a “good person.” I’ve chased perfection all of my life, more to my own detriment and the detriment of those around me than for positive outcomes. Actually, I usually enjoy being able to feel high-and-mighty for doing the “right thing.” Still, sometimes I wonder what it would be like to ride the “freight train.” Anyhow, from that opening tune, I felt as though Teitur and I were on the same page.
Teitur was plagued by the dubstep above him, as well as his own mic’s ear-bleeding feedback screeches, and you could tell that it was frustrating to him, though he was just kind of laughing it all away. He sang a few other newer songs, but also went way back in time, singing “Josephine” and “One and Only” off of his first album. When he announced he was going to play “All My Mistakes,” which has been one of my most-played songs of my whole life, I was the only one in that crowded room to “Woooo!” Those around me turned their heads toward me and smiled, and we all got prepared — but then Teitur couldn’t get his keyboard right, and said, “No, actually, we’re not gonna do that one.” I sighed and went, “Oooooh,” and there were some gentle chuckles and friendly “Oooh!”s around me. I thought, that’s about right — just like my birthday those many moons ago, I didn’t quite get the one song I was hoping to hear. I really didn’t mind, and decided to enjoy whatever else Teitur had up his sleeve. However, two songs later, after he’d switched back to acoustic guitar, he once again announced, “This is ‘All My Mistakes,'” and my heart soared as he interpreted the tune on his acoustic. “Who is to say who wins or who loses/I sing to myself at the end of the day when I know what the blues is/And all my mistakes have become masterpieces,” he crooned, as my eyes became wet. It’s a whispered anthem for we romantics and perfectionists, and it was such a beautiful and raw thing for him to present to us, to close out his night of mic feedback and gross thumping bleeding through the walls. It was total redemption, and if I could thank him a million times for this generous gift of a song, I would.
Having enjoyed more sleep than I thought I would, I was able to drag myself from bed early enough to go to the Moody Theater for an intimate performance by Ben Kweller over breakfast tacos. Before Kweller went on, someone hit a transformer outside of the venue, which shut off all power to the amps and soundboard on the Moody patio. Kweller improvised, playing totally acoustically and singing at the top of his lungs to the 250+ crowd surrounding him. It was somewhat difficult to hear him, but his voice carries well, and he was able to croon out 3 songs (including a Neil Young cover) before calling it quits and telling us all to just make it to his next show. It was a fun and very unique way to wake up, and it energized me for the next big event I had been looking forward to all week.
I walked with Zack and a work friend straight to the Paramount Theatre, to see how long the line was for the LCD Soundsystem documentary, Shut Up and Play the Hits, which was screening two hours later. Ever since I heard that this documentary existed, I followed it like a hawk, salivating over its release. We had purchased advanced tickets for the screening, but all film badge holders were still going to be allowed in before us, which had me sweating. When we arrived at the venue, there was no line whatsoever. We were the only people there interested in the screening. We asked some volunteers working the event how things would go down, and they explained they’d line us up around the corner, and film badge holders would enter first. Zack decided it was time to go get some libations before the show, so I begrudgingly walked with the group back to the Stage on Sixth for some free drinks. I had a cup of wine, and was ready to head back to the Paramount.
When we were within an hour of showtime, I power-walked back to the venue, expecting some kind of line at this point. Still – zilch. We were the only ones there. I asked the volunteers again where I needed to go, and wandered around the side of the building, nervous that I still wasn’t in the right place, and nervous there’d be a last-minute rush for the screening. A line began to form behind us — it ultimately only contained 10-15 people — and the film badge line ended up holding about 30 folks. I was shocked at the lack of attendance, but as this was the film’s third screening that week, it seemed like most people just got theirs in early.
As we waited in line, I excitedly spoke with the event’s organizer, who was clearly a fan of the band himself. He said that at the Spaghetti Warehouse screening earlier in the week, people were standing up, dancing and singing along, just like at a live concert. This was exactly what I wanted, so it made me happy to hear it. The volunteer assigned to watch over our area was also incredibly friendly, and said she wasn’t worried at all about us getting in. When they finally moved us inside, I was impatient when my group stopped for drinks, so after a beat, I just walked into the theater by myself and snagged some seats for us in the middle-back.
The crowd surprised me. It was an odd mix of a few fans (mostly the people who had been in line behind us), and a much, much older set who looked like they just always came to the Paramount matinee show. This made me lose hope in any real dance party atmosphere, but I didn’t mind. I just was ready to see the documentary. We spotted Reggie Watts in the theatre, too, so Zack decided he had to go introduce himself, and chatted Reggie up for quite a while. Finally, it was time to start the movie. Our friend, the event organizer guy, encouraged us to dance or do whatever we were moved to do, and then brought Reggie up onstage to give the official introduction. Reggie explained he was in the film for all of four minutes, and was honored to be in it. He said, “I think you’re all really gonna love this, it’s really fantastic…this is actually the first time I’m ever seeing it.” After reminding us to place our trash in the appropriate receptacle at the end of the event, we got it rolling.
The documentary is a perfect mix of James Murphy as an everyman, taking his dog out to shit, feeding it, and walking it, versus James Murphy the rock star. There is interesting, thought-provoking interview footage with Chuck Klosterman, and then of course, there is tons and tons of live footage from LCD Soundsystem’s final performance at Madison Square Garden. You can see Murphy’s struggle within himself, trying to define why exactly he called it quits, and if he did so for the “right” reasons, and what would even be the “right” reasons. It is such a raw and unique peek into the life of a rock band, on their hypothetical death bed, and despite being the only ones to do so, Zack and I danced in our seats as if we were there, in the middle of everything. It was a heartbreaking detox, to watch a band you adore dissolve in front of your eyes all over again. When “All My Friends” came on, I pumped my first hard and gave a little, “Woo!” because this was the song during which my close friend Melissa called me from the actual event. This was the song that took the band from awesome to next-level obsession for me. This was the song during which I felt closest with my new group of Austin friends at our buddies Lisa and Eric’s wedding. This is the kind of song you never forget. When Murphy sings, “To tell the truth, this could be the last time,” and you hear the roar from that MSG crowd begging it not to be true, it strikes a chord. So I pumped my fist. I then started to laugh at the absurdity of cheering in a film, where nobody could really see or hear me besides the other movie-goers, and then in the middle of it all I choked on a laugh and began to sob uncontrollably. This is the power of this movie.
After it was over, we ran into Reggie Watts again by the bathroom, and he seemed as speechless as the rest of us. I told him that Zack had been the one cheering every time Reggie was on-screen, and he laughed at that prospect. We walked into the daylight, blinking hard, and then headed for the second Drums set of my week.
The Drums played the same set they had played the day before, less “Down by the Water,” and I was just as into it. In fact, the crowd at their Brooklyn Vegan set at Hotel Vegas was way more light-hearted and fun-loving than the previous day’s crowd, dancing up a storm and singing along brightly to all of the songs. Plus, it was great to have Zack with me for this show, so that we could sing to each other and dance together as the band rocked our socks off. Jonny looked close to a heatstroke at this performance, so I was glad he made it through the entire set alive, and I figured I’d just see them one final time, on my birthday the following day. They put pep in my step as I wandered off to see what the evening would bring me.
I fueled up with some dinner and a margarita, and then headed back downtown to make sure I’d be front-and-center for Brazos. I’d been missing this Austin-spawned band ever since mastermind Martin Crane defected to New York City two years ago, and this was the first time he’d been back in a performance capacity. He and his new Brazos lineup played all-new songs, and Crane himself looked happier and more carefree than he’d been. It made me glad for him to be living in New York, because that seemed to infuse him with new life and a new outlook. The songs had that earthy energy that marked them as Brazos songs, and Martin got wild on a few, tossing his wispy hair from left to right as the crowd bobbled to his gentle beats. Brazos is set to release this new material on record soon, and I cannot wait. It’s as dreamy and dazzling as ever.
Next up, I went to M Music’s Thursday-night showcase, featuring the Ettes — sadly, I couldn’t stay for this group’s performance, because I had Miike Snow fish to fry. But I did get to listen to a bit of Argentinian band Capsula’s mad set, punky and high-pitched, and spoke with M editor Rick Taylor for a while, which was humbling and wonderful. Then, I high-tailed it to Lustre Pearl to make sure I’d get in to see my beloved Swedish electro-rock group throw down.
When we got in to Lustre Pearl, YACHT was onstage. My despise of this band is well-documented, so I will merely say, I think their “we are a set of ideals, not just a band!” shtick is complete bullshit, and I don’t particularly care for being screeched at by some would-be-oddball lead singer, so I sat their set out on the side of the venue.
Once YACHT fans cleared out, we were able to get just a few rows back from the stage for Miike Snow. The band was set to go on at midnight, thus welcoming in my 25th year with me, which is why I wanted to be at their show. I informed a fellow concert-goer that it was my birthday at midnight, so he excitedly had me check my phone every minute to see if it was midnight. Right when the clock turned, he and my work friend started yelling “Happy Birthday!” at me, and total strangers around us joined in the madness. I was so happy, and so ready for the band to come on — unfortunately, the band ended up being 45 minutes late. This is really unsurprising, based on the fact that they essentially set up a spaceship onstage. They have a new synth machine with lights lining the upper part, shaped like an octagon, that looks ready for orbit at any time. That, plus their usual barrage of synth machines and microphones led to myriad sound checks and tweakings. The unusually fratty audience became impatient fairly quickly into the night, and began chants of “We want music!” that weren’t helping anybody. When the band finally did take the stage, they were still plagued with sound issues, but rolled through them anyway and put on a really solid performance.
The band intermixed new songs with a lot of the old, but the new actually seemed to go over even stronger. Though they closed out with barn-burner “Animal,” their latest single “Paddling Out” actually had people dancing harder than any other song they played. Lead singer Andrew Wyatt dared to leap down into the masses in the middle of “Black and Blue,” but as soon as he got right next to me, he looked up with a dear-in-headlights panic on his face, and rushed right back up to the stage. It was like, he wanted that rockstar moment, but didn’t know what to do with it when it arrived. I am confident that by the time Miike Snow comes back through Austin touring on their newest album, they’ll have all the kinks worked out.
I have hurt myself at South by Southwest before, but apparently turning 25 was exactly what my body needed to signal it to completely shut down. My legs and feet ached so badly that I had to hobble home like the grandmother from Little Red Riding Hood, and it was a mile-long walk home. I moaned and groaned at this Bataan Death March, as my dad would have called it, and felt like I’d need to sit forever into the next day.
That wasn’t in the cards, though. After getting to sleep at 5AM, I woke up again at 10:45AM so that we could make it to Ezra Furman’s noontime set at Lovejoy’s.
Looking every bit like Johnny Cash or a rock ‘n’ roll Jesus, Ezra played his solo set with fiercely angry energy. There was almost disdain in every chord, as he prefaced us, “South by Southwest makes me not want to please my crowds, so I’m gonna play what I want to play.” He played new songs, like “Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde,” and practically spit the lyrics through clenched teeth. It was intense, and woke me up in the afternoon heat. Ezra is an incredible guitarist, and his new stripped sound really allows him to showcase it. I brightened when he said, “How about a 50’s style love song?” He paused, and said, “…it’s called Blood-Sucking Whore.” I laughed despite myself, and he launched into the tune. After he was done, Zack and I approached him so Zack could hug his old friend — Zack used to watch Ezra play small clubs in Chicago, so he’s followed his career for a long time. Ezra was much softer when we spoke with him, removing his sunglasses to reveal a boyish face and a gentle smile.
We wandered over to a birthday lunch at Frank, resting our feet before we headed to try to catch Fanfarlo at Cedar Street. When we arrived, we learned their set had been pushed an hour later, meaning we would have to miss the Drums if we stayed. That wasn’t worth it to me, so we chilled inside long enough for Zack and my co-worker to have some beer, and to listen to folk-poppy Graffiti6 from inside Cedar Street’s walls. Then it was off to Lustre Pearl. I was fading fast, feeling completely worn out after the last 3 days’ adventures, but I knew that as soon as I saw Jonny and co. onstage, everything else would fade away. My theory came true, and the guys once again played the set I’d heard twice before, except that they subbed out “Down By the Water” for “I Need a Doctor.” We danced and sang, and the band sounded better than ever, and before they launched into closer “Let’s Go Surfing,” Jonny announced, “We’re playing Stubb’s tonight, and I guess we’re headlining, because the Ting-Tings canceled, so I hope we see you there!” My ears perked up at this, but I’d been planning to see Jack White’s solo show at the Stage on Sixth with Zack, so I just shrugged it off.
I’ve been to enough showcases to know there is an ebb and flow to these things, and though I’ve camped out many a time to ensure I have had a spot at my favorites, I’ve never needed to — at literally every show, I could show up an hour before and get in if I wanted, because people come and go. So, I decided I should go home and rest for two hours, instead of pushing myself to vomiting everywhere from exhaustion, and told Zack I’d meet up with him right after I was done with my little break. Zack literally ran to the Stage on Sixth, and started texting me shortly thereafter that the badge line was insane, and that no wristbands at all were going to get in. I freaked out, but knowing Zack, felt like he might be exaggerating because his fandom was blinding him to the truth of the situation. I took a deep breath, trusted my knowledge of how SXSW works, and continued to force myself to rest on the couch, slowly eating some rice so I wouldn’t die.
I began to get antsy as I learned Zack finally got in the venue, but the badge line was apparently miles long. I had set up a taxi to pick me up at 9:15, but the taxi never came. This was my first sign of things to come. As I raced out the door, I dropped my phone on the ground and it split into its various parts, so I quickly shoved the battery back inside its case and the phone turned on for the time being. I walked briskly downtown, hoping I’d still find a way inside the Stage on Sixth. When I got there, I saw my co-worker in line. He wasn’t far back, but hadn’t moved for an hour. I waited with him for another hour, and we never moved an inch. Not to mention, there was a huge line of fans who had waited as early as 1PM, who had little chance of getting in. I peeked in the venue itself, and it was hardly at capacity — apparently only 650 people were let in for Jack’s showcase, though the venue surely has a capacity over 1,000. I was frustrated by this rockstar move of forcing people to stand outside, making it appear that there was more interest in the show than there was. I thought it was a slap in the face for the people desperate to be inside. When I felt like there was no hope of us getting inside, I left with my co-worker to see the Drums headline at Stubb’s.
When we arrived at Stubb’s, Delta Spirit had been playing for about 10 minutes. They announced that this was their 16th show, and I was shocked — they played with so much energy, I never would have guessed it. The only thing that betrayed their exhaustion was the lead singer’s voice, which was just scratchy enough to imply that he’d been singing quite a bit. Other than that, it was as if this was their first show. It’s unlikely I’ll buy their music for sitting-around-to-listen purposes, I will never be sad if Delta Spirit play at a concert I attend. They play the kind of sing-along anthems that make Mumford & Sons so beloved.
I had been purposefully avoiding the band fun. all week, but sadly, they were slated to play before my beloved Drums. So, I tried to keep an open mind. Sure, I thought their car commercial song was detestable, but maybe they’d have some stuff I would enjoy. After all, they’d worked with Janelle Monae! I loved her! However, it was clear from the opening notes of their first song, this band was not for me. I’m not sure if it’s that I’m too cynical for them, or too old, or that they just are awful — maybe this trifecta worked together. The band came across as a reject cast of Degrassi, and they apparently thought they were performing in some kind of musical, with over-the-top gestures and “C’mon, cheer this with us!” preciousness. The songs are all about being young and owning the night, and it felt so force-fed and fake that it was excruciating. However, it was made worse as the jocks standing next to me loudly bemoaned how terrible the band was throughout their performance. I can hate on a band, but I have the decency to not do so in front of their rabid fan base. Just because something doesn’t work at all for me, doesn’t mean I’m going to ruin an experience for the people it works for. Overall, it was just a terrible, terrible time, and I was incredibly relieved when it was over.
As expected, once fun. was done, the crowd dispersed, and I scooted up to be 2nd row, surrounded by other real Drums fans. Two in particular were as dancey and sing-alongy as I am, and they made the whole experience that much better. The Drums were able to hang their gorgeous backdrop on the Stubb’s stage, and had an actual light show at this performance, which made it feel like a real Drums show. When they came out onstage, some of their “found sound” recordings from their Summertime EP was playing, and they really gave this headlining performance everything they got. This was also the night that I learned lead singer Jonny Pierce was gay, and it enlightened me and opened up whole new interpretations of the songs. “If He Likes It Let Him Do It” had a whole new meaning, and Jonny himself even introduced the song as, “one for the gays!” The tween-girl in me who was in love with rockstar Jonny was a bit heartbroken, but I thought it was very brave of him to be his whole self in front of a Texas crowd, and I was especially proud of the crowd, who seemed to love him more, if anything.
The guys were able to play far more old and new songs in this set, and before they launched into “Book of Revelations,” Jonny said, “The Drums have a lot of songs that are catchy and will stick in your head, but for this song — this song, we really want you to understand this message, and take it with you, so really listen to the lyrics!” As we all pumped our fists and sang in unison, “I’ve seen the world, and there’s no heaven and there’s no hell/And I believe, that when we die, we die/So let me love you tonight,” it was simultaneously lonely and unifying. Jonny looked at each of us meticulously, seemingly trying to spell it out as he sang, “You can love them/You can hate them/You never wronged them/So you don’t owe them.” Their Stubb’s performance was probably my favorite, as the band was totally in their element and running on all cylinders. They were a perfect way to close out my birthday night of music.
Still, when Zack joined back up with me, euphoric from an hour-and-45-minute Jack White set, I was jealous. Zack is the biggest Jack White superfan in all the land, so I felt bad not allowing him to immediately gush about the show, but I was incensed that Jack White would steal away my boyfriend from me on my birthday for a second year in a row. Still, I felt childish being jealous, and pushed through it as quickly as I could so I could just enjoy Zack’s happiness with him.
Saturday, unfortunately, was kind of a wash. We slept in a luxuriously long time, and wandered down to meet our friends at the Hype Hotel around 3:30PM to get some drinks and free tacos. We were wanting to see the Bright Light Social Hour at the Belmont at 3PM, but were running too late to make it. I really wanted to see Yellow Ostrich, and knew they had a set at Peckerheads at 5PM, so Zack joined me in my quest, and we headed across the street at 4:30 to make sure we wouldn’t miss them. Sadly…we’d missed them anyway. Their set had been moved to 2PM that day, so they were long gone.
Devastated, I didn’t really know what else there would be to do until the 1AM show at Club DeVille by the Black and White Years. Suddenly, it hit me — the Drums were playing a set at Emo’s East, their sixth and final show of SXSW. I knew Zack wanted to watch his alma mater, IU, play in the playoff basketball game around that time, so we decided I’d drop him at our friend Bryn’s house, since he lived just down the street, and I’d go to Emo’s East. It was settled. We raced to my car, and I drove us out to the east. Parking by Emo’s East was surprisingly easy, and I quickly found my friends hanging around outside the venue when I got there. As I stood with my music-loving bosom buddy Melissa, LCD Soundsystem’s Pat Mahoney walked by. Pat…Mahoney. I almost died. Mel and I had a twee-girl freakout moment, but neither had the guts to say anything, so we just stood in awe. Turns out, his supergroup with members of Hot Chip was playing Emo’s East later on that day.
After we calmed down, we headed inside to catch Bleached, which our friend and photographer extraordinaire Pooneh Ghana described as a “better Vivian Girls.” I wasn’t sold right away; the vocals sounded harsh and a little out of tune. However, the more they played, the more I liked the female-fronted punk band. They were spunky and raw, but friendlier than Bikini Kill. I bobbed around a bit, and then Mel and I moved closer to the stage for our beloved Drums. It was her first time seeing them, and it took a lot for me to not just tell her what the setlist would be right there on the spot. When the guys came onstage, they had the same wonderful energy as they had the previous 4 times, except they seemed even more boosted, as it was their final show and they could give it everything they had. Jonny danced harder, Jacob even got into a bit of a groove, and we all sang along at the top of our lungs.
The Drums have something special. I’ve seen enough bands to know when something is just merely enjoyable, versus when a group has a special energy and creative spark about them that is unique. This band is unique. They tap into something that only very special music can reach. Jonny’s voice is magical, like taking a drug and opening up your mind to see the world differently. Jacob is in his own world half the time, and when the band’s set came to its final close, he bowed deeply at the waist, and blew a kiss with a Miss America wave tacked onto the end of it as he rose back up. It was precious and endearing, and solidified the group in my heart.
I headed for Zack and Bryn after that, with the promise of pizza awaiting me, and downed two slices before wanting to move. We finally forced ourselves up, in hopes to see Fanfarlo play at the Hype Hotel. They were the first band on that night at 10PM, and so badge-holders were the only ones being let in at the beginning. We tried to have Zack crash with me, but there was just nothing doing. I was in for 2 and a half songs by Fanfarlo, and they sounded just brilliant, but I couldn’t leave my boyfriend inebriated and waiting outside for me, so I headed back out as we kicked our feet in the proverbial dirt trying to decide what to do. I really, really wanted to see the Black and White Years at Club DeVille, but we were losing steam, and ice cream and kicking back at home sounded like it might win the day. If there had been a show in-between 11PM and 1AM that we really wanted to see, we may have been re-energized and stayed out longer. But alas, movie time and cuddling up were calling, so we trudged home and said goodbye to South by Southwest.
If I’m being totally honest, I can’t say I have no regrets about this year’s SXSW. I wish I’d left earlier to make it in to the Jack White show — although I would have then missed my favorite (and the longest) Drums set I was graced with. I wish I had tried to see more bands that I had never seen or heard before — but then I may have missed some of those energizing Drums sets, or not been able to spend time with my friends and loved ones, or else made myself even more sick than I am right now. I wish I hadn’t chickened out on the last night of SXSW — but then, I’d still have never seen Dead Poets Society, and again, might have been even more ill than my closed-up throat and fevered head are making me now. So yes, regrets pull at me occasionally, but when I really examine them, they disappear like ghosts. I had so many perfect moments, and was able to release so many emotions, all while turning 25 (and being all out of escapes). I was more the fan than the journalist this year, but I still managed to see what the fuss was about with fun., still managed to see some bands I’d never seen before, and still exposed myself to all kinds of new and exciting music in my research leading up to South by Southwest. The conference is all about balance, and I made it across the high-wire.
