Saturday, March 17, 2007
Christian Scott is SIIICK!
Every now and then, it’s nice to step back from the non-stop Rock and Roll and take in something completely different. Not that there’s anything wrong with tight jeans and long-haired hipsters…
A New Orleans native, Christian Scott is a jazz trumpeter based in New York with a kick-ass band that encompasses an intensive, brooding tone. Scott plays the hell out of his Gillespie-style trumpet, exploding each note into his microphone with ferocious energy. And Scott’s band is just as amazing as their frontman.
It didn’t matter that he was extremely jet-lagged, having flown to Austin all the way from Berlin, Germany where he had just played a show. Scott and his band delivered a hell of a set at Bourbon Rocks on Sixth Street, gaining mad props from a packed house who were most likely expecting some blonde-haired, blue-eyed singer/songwriter from somewhere in the Midwest.Also, two of the guys from The Automatic caught his set, as they were waiting to see their fellow Welsh friends Super Furry Animals play after Scott.
Watch the video clips of Christian Scott with a short interview by yours truly.
Day Two: Holy Wow This Festival Thing is Exhausting
For the record, we are currently writing away at Denny’s, which is the only place still open within shooting distance of our hotel (I think that analogy is fitting, given the neighborhood we’re in). I’m going with the All-American Slam, whereas Brendan is going with the Mega French Toast Slam. MEGA. Also worth noting: we split a cab home tonight with half of Idolator, the candid and hilarious music blog that we wish we were candid and hilarious enough to write.
Another day, another 30 bands. I cannot feel my legs from standing for 10 hours, but hell – wouldn’t trade it for the world.
Once we made it downtown (as you may have noticed, I crashed kind of hard last night), we caught the phenomenal five piece band Via Audio from New York City. In a rather impromptu performance at the Pete Townsend tribute show, they played a dark version of Behind Blue Eyes – a ballsy choice, but they pulled it off. Check back Sunday for an in depth interview conducted by our honorary copy editor and resident Texan, Kevin Eskowitz.
El-P rocked the back room at Red Eye Fly, thoroughly confusing the greasy indie-pop kids who were expecting to see something a bit more obscure and/or inaccessible. Sorry guys, he doesn’t give a shit that your Chucks are vintage. Go ride your fixie to the Levi’s showcase.
Then we decided to roam around and find a random club to wander into – and upon asking a bouncer at Emo’s, discovered that none other than Architecture in Helsinki was about to take the stage. Surrounded by the aforementioned greasy indie-pop kids, we were treated to a frenetic drum machine-fueled set that even made tired (and half drunk) Brendan dance. The sound guy wasn’t receptive to the crowd’s demands for “ONE-MORE-SONG! ONE-MORE-SONG!,” and the dance party ended as abruptly as it began.
Architecture in Helsinki would have been my clear choice for the best show of the day, but New Orleans, LA based Mute Math gave them a run for their money. Vocalist Paul Meany flipped over (yes, flipped over) his keyboard so hard that he broke it – and after his poor tech managed to hotwire it back on amongst the on-stage chaos, Meany proceed to jump all over it again. By my count, they broke two microphone stands, one floor tom, at least one microphone, and of course the keyboard. By some stroke of luck, however, the Keytar stayed intact – and he shamelessly rocked it for the rest of the set. The whole band is terrifyingly talented at their respective instruments, but they didn’t let their technical prowess overpower Meany’s hooky songwriting. See them sometime if you get the chance.
The ubiquitous Andrew Bird held his own in front of the curious but unfamiliar Stubbs crowd, and played a wonderful set assisted by Dosh on drums and keys. Admittedly, he is best seen in an intimate club rather than a massive outdoor venue. Didn't disappoint, though.
We closed the night out with my own hometown heroes, the veteran Minneapolis, MN based The Honeydogs. With horn section in tow, they plowed through old favorites and selections from their 2006 release, Amygdala. Thankfully, they brought enough energy to the stage to make up for the lackluster band that preceded them. Had it not been for all of the free vodka & red bulls we had just consumed at the Purevolume party, I would have passed out from boredom. Thanks to The Honeydogs for being the auditory caffeine I needed to prepare me for the obligatory hour long post-closing-time mad dash to find a cab.
Is it 6 AM already? Damn. Tomorrow, we invade the SXSW Conference (talking instead of rocking), where I will geek out over all of the panels and presenters from every corner of the music business. Cheers!
Another day, another 30 bands. I cannot feel my legs from standing for 10 hours, but hell – wouldn’t trade it for the world.
Once we made it downtown (as you may have noticed, I crashed kind of hard last night), we caught the phenomenal five piece band Via Audio from New York City. In a rather impromptu performance at the Pete Townsend tribute show, they played a dark version of Behind Blue Eyes – a ballsy choice, but they pulled it off. Check back Sunday for an in depth interview conducted by our honorary copy editor and resident Texan, Kevin Eskowitz.
El-P rocked the back room at Red Eye Fly, thoroughly confusing the greasy indie-pop kids who were expecting to see something a bit more obscure and/or inaccessible. Sorry guys, he doesn’t give a shit that your Chucks are vintage. Go ride your fixie to the Levi’s showcase.
Then we decided to roam around and find a random club to wander into – and upon asking a bouncer at Emo’s, discovered that none other than Architecture in Helsinki was about to take the stage. Surrounded by the aforementioned greasy indie-pop kids, we were treated to a frenetic drum machine-fueled set that even made tired (and half drunk) Brendan dance. The sound guy wasn’t receptive to the crowd’s demands for “ONE-MORE-SONG! ONE-MORE-SONG!,” and the dance party ended as abruptly as it began.
Architecture in Helsinki would have been my clear choice for the best show of the day, but New Orleans, LA based Mute Math gave them a run for their money. Vocalist Paul Meany flipped over (yes, flipped over) his keyboard so hard that he broke it – and after his poor tech managed to hotwire it back on amongst the on-stage chaos, Meany proceed to jump all over it again. By my count, they broke two microphone stands, one floor tom, at least one microphone, and of course the keyboard. By some stroke of luck, however, the Keytar stayed intact – and he shamelessly rocked it for the rest of the set. The whole band is terrifyingly talented at their respective instruments, but they didn’t let their technical prowess overpower Meany’s hooky songwriting. See them sometime if you get the chance.
The ubiquitous Andrew Bird held his own in front of the curious but unfamiliar Stubbs crowd, and played a wonderful set assisted by Dosh on drums and keys. Admittedly, he is best seen in an intimate club rather than a massive outdoor venue. Didn't disappoint, though.
We closed the night out with my own hometown heroes, the veteran Minneapolis, MN based The Honeydogs. With horn section in tow, they plowed through old favorites and selections from their 2006 release, Amygdala. Thankfully, they brought enough energy to the stage to make up for the lackluster band that preceded them. Had it not been for all of the free vodka & red bulls we had just consumed at the Purevolume party, I would have passed out from boredom. Thanks to The Honeydogs for being the auditory caffeine I needed to prepare me for the obligatory hour long post-closing-time mad dash to find a cab.
Is it 6 AM already? Damn. Tomorrow, we invade the SXSW Conference (talking instead of rocking), where I will geek out over all of the panels and presenters from every corner of the music business. Cheers!
Friday, March 16, 2007
DRUNK'N'TIRED - whadd'a'day
I'm soo tired. I'm sooo f-cking tired. That's right. So much crazy shit happened today - we've been on our feet (as in NOT SITTING DOWN) from about 1:00pm-3:30am We waited 1 hour for a cab from downtown Austin to North Austin (where our Hotel is.) We're exhausted. We're drunk. We're.....SO THRILLED TO BE HERE! Here's what happened today, with more detail to come tomorrow when we can actually form sentences;
GOODNIGHT! Video and Pics come tomorrow (after breakfast/lunch...)
- 1:00pm - Stubbs BBQ - FOOD!
- 2:00pm - Boris (Japanese scream metal with hot female guitarist)
- 2:30pm - Apostle of Hustle (Canadian Latin rock [wtf?] - awesome!)
- 3:00pm - The Melvins (2 drum sets, crazy hair, woah...)
- 4:00pm - Drinking (Texas Lone Star - The PBR of Tehaaas!)
- 5:00pm - Brother Ali (Minneapolis Albino Hip-Hop Superstar)
- 6:00pm - Interview with The Automatic (Cardiff, Wales UK supa' stars!)
- 7:oopm - Dinner (Tacos. Disappointing- unfortunately, shitty service.)
- 9:00pm - WHAaaa??!?
- 10:00pm - Random bands (no, really...)
- 11:00pm - Playboy Party (Denied...)
- 12:00am - Shots of Whiskey
- 12:30am - Jacks Mannequin
- 1:00am - Against Me (ROCK!)
- 1:30am - Grace Potter & The Nocturnals (Super-cute chick who plays B3-Hammond organ and sings her ass off...)
- 2:00am-3:00am - CAB SEARCH!
- 3:30am - Zach fell asleep.
- 3:50am - Brendan is blogging, for some reason..
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Overheard at South by Southwest
Featuring our friend Kevin, and Wayne Coyne, frontman of The Flaming Lips.
Kevin: WAYNE!
Wayne Coyne: What's up, man?
Kevin: When are you guys playing?
Wayne Coyne: Oh, we're not playing here.
Kevin: So what are you doing?
Wayne Coyne: Throwing basketballs at indie bands.
Kevin: WAYNE!
Wayne Coyne: What's up, man?
Kevin: When are you guys playing?
Wayne Coyne: Oh, we're not playing here.
Kevin: So what are you doing?
Wayne Coyne: Throwing basketballs at indie bands.
Goodmorning.
Not a happy camper. Off to downtown for day two, stay tuned for this and more:
- An interview with The Automatic
- Doghouse Records Showcase (Army of Me, Say Anything)
- Sire Records Showcase (The Shys, Armor for Sleep, Against Me!)
- Stax Records Revival (Isaac Hayes!)
- and a daytime performance by Get Cape. Wear Cape. Fly.
Merge Records Showcase: Spoon!
After a grueling day of travel, Brendan and I met up with Kevin (our resident Texan and guide to all things Austin) and made it out for a solid night of shows, a drink or two, and way too many women w
ho looked 20 inside the dark clubs but in retrospect were probably in their 40's. Nonetheless, it was a great night of music.
To start the night off, we headed to Stubbs BBQ to catch the UK sensation The Automatic. More on them later, though.
Then it was off to the Merge Records showcase at Antone's, a phenomenal little club with a great bar and a dirty-but-not-too-dirty atmosphere.
11PM: The Rosebuds
This Raleigh, NC based indie outfit screamed of early Blondie with a very serious streak of aggressive dance pop. Didn't hurt that singer Kelly Crisp looked (and sounded) like Debbie Harry in her prime, either. Their new album Night of the Furies drops April 10th.
12AM: The Broken West
These Los Angeles natives lived up to their hype, delivering exactly what they're known for: hook and harmony-laden rock. The crowd was pumped, and the band responded by driving through an impressive set, making more than a few fans in the process. I was floored, to say the least.
1AM: "Special Guests from Austin"
So Kevin told us that Spoon would be the night's "special guest," and that was completely too good to be true, so I totally didn't buy it. But despite all of my doubts, Spoon showed up for an unannounced set to close the show. The club had been buzzing the whole night about their alleged appearance, but that didn't stop me from thinking things like "Holy shit, Spoon is three feet in front of me," and "Holy shit, Britt Daniel from Spoon just spit on me," and "Holy shit, getting spit on wasn't that cool, even if it was Britt Daniel." That said, they were in their element and they played their asses off. Definitely was a great way to close day one.
Jim Eno and Britt Daniel (Spoon)
ho looked 20 inside the dark clubs but in retrospect were probably in their 40's. Nonetheless, it was a great night of music.To start the night off, we headed to Stubbs BBQ to catch the UK sensation The Automatic. More on them later, though.
Then it was off to the Merge Records showcase at Antone's, a phenomenal little club with a great bar and a dirty-but-not-too-dirty atmosphere.
11PM: The Rosebuds
This Raleigh, NC based indie outfit screamed of early Blondie with a very serious streak of aggressive dance pop. Didn't hurt that singer Kelly Crisp looked (and sounded) like Debbie Harry in her prime, either. Their new album Night of the Furies drops April 10th.
12AM: The Broken West
These Los Angeles natives lived up to their hype, delivering exactly what they're known for: hook and harmony-laden rock. The crowd was pumped, and the band responded by driving through an impressive set, making more than a few fans in the process. I was floored, to say the least.
1AM: "Special Guests from Austin"
So Kevin told us that Spoon would be the night's "special guest," and that was completely too good to be true, so I totally didn't buy it. But despite all of my doubts, Spoon showed up for an unannounced set to close the show. The club had been buzzing the whole night about their alleged appearance, but that didn't stop me from thinking things like "Holy shit, Spoon is three feet in front of me," and "Holy shit, Britt Daniel from Spoon just spit on me," and "Holy shit, getting spit on wasn't that cool, even if it was Britt Daniel." That said, they were in their element and they played their asses off. Definitely was a great way to close day one.
Jim Eno and Britt Daniel (Spoon)Wednesday, March 14, 2007
SXSW: Georgia edition
Being stuck in Atlanta has its downfalls (overpriced airport bars), but the scene at the gate is a pretty hilarious culture clash. The gates around ours are going to Dallas, Pensacola, and West Virginia, respectively, which translates into a whole lot of crying children and cowboy hats and terrifying floral print hawaiian shirts.
Our gate to Austin, on the other hand, is populated by approximately 80 tight-jeaned hipsters with ipods and greasy hair and the occasional guitar case, furiously typing away on their sidekicks/blackberries.
We stare at them, they stare at us. A woman going to Pensacola just gave an extensively tattooed guy at our gate a once over, and herded her three kids back with strict instructions to stay close. I cannot make this shit up. It's like the lower east side just descended on Disney World or something.
Next stop, the moldy hotel. Cheers!
Our gate to Austin, on the other hand, is populated by approximately 80 tight-jeaned hipsters with ipods and greasy hair and the occasional guitar case, furiously typing away on their sidekicks/blackberries.
We stare at them, they stare at us. A woman going to Pensacola just gave an extensively tattooed guy at our gate a once over, and herded her three kids back with strict instructions to stay close. I cannot make this shit up. It's like the lower east side just descended on Disney World or something.
Next stop, the moldy hotel. Cheers!
And so it begins...
It's 4:00am on Wed. morning, and in 2 hours I have to catch the Metro to the airport for my flight to AUSTIN, TX. I should be in around 11:30am, but then I can't check into the hotel until around 3:00pm, and Zach doesn't arrive until about 5:00pm, so we're going to get a bit of a late start on Wednesday, but oh-well - it should be a long night. While on the plane, I get to finalize my makeshift schedule of which bands I'd like to try and see - there's only 1,400 of them, so it should be pretty easy to choose, right?
Oh, and speaking of the hotel, it's most likely going to be SKETCH! We're just college students, and we can't afford expensive hotels in convenient downtown Austin, where the actual festival is taking place. Reviews of our hotel include "Not a nice place to stay..." and "Moldy!" (See reviews...) But, hey, hopefully its better than last years hotel, which included crackheads, prostitutes, cigarette burns in the sheets, and death lurking around every corner... Don't plan on spending too much time there anyway, just a place to crash. Pictures to come, of course. Stay tuned.
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