SXSW SATURDAY, MARCH 20 RECAP >>>
I think I need an IV. After three straight days of potent drinks in plastic cups, chain-smoked cigarettes and high-decibel rock ‘n' roll - this morning, the last official morning of SXSW 2010, it all came crashing down on me. Black saucers surround my eyes. Fits of hacking greet me at every staircase. Bright lights cause me to recoil. And, shit, I wasn't even here on Wednesday, the festival's official kickoff.
SXSW was great, but I'm ready to come home. A person can't live like this. Food from trucks, queso dip and margarita pitchers can only carry you so far.
And I'm not alone. Twitter space - which since Wednesday has been filled with up-to-the-minute reports from the eleventy-seventy shows happening simultaneously all over Austin - today is filled with stuff like, "Off to the airport," and "My liver hurts #SXSW."
People are spent. And Austin is ready to return to normalcy. The traffic once again filling Sixth Street - which is closed for the duration of SXSW - is a good sign.
Thankfully, we don't fly out until early tomorrow morning - giving the Weekly Volcano some much-needed time to recuperate and gather our thoughts. While the official SXSW closing barbecue and softball party happened this afternoon - one last chance for the "industry" types to pass out business card between at-bats, one last chance for those on the "inside" to share war stories and Lone Star beers before heading back to their respective regions of the world - my wife and I passed. We're not much for softball, plus we didn't pack our mitts. While something tells me Chevy and AT&T probably partnered to provide sponsored, logo filled gloves for all SXSW badge holders - that's not the point.
Instead, today has mainly been spent staring blankly at objects on the coffee table, and cursing the distance between us and coffee in the morning. It's nice to not be rushing off to another night of music industry excess.
Not that last night actually ended up turning into the SXSW I've previously described - Mother Nature wouldn't have it. After temperatures hovered in the 70s for the first three-fourths of the festival, a fierce wind and unexpected chill moved in to give SXSW a whole new, blanketed, bundled and icy feel Saturday. The streets were literally filled with underdressed scenesters, arms crossed - maybe a little snot in their beards - trying to fight of the chill and still look good in their skinny jeans. Every restaurant had an hour wait time, and people just kept jumping on the end of the list and crowding in waiting areas because it was better than being on the street.
We made it as long as we could. As the night crept toward 1 a.m., and the temperature stood at 37 degrees - we decided enough was enough, and headed back to the hotel. I don't think we fully shook the chill until morning - but the early retreat did give us a chance to see a wrapped up, and slightly miserable looking Kimya Dawson on the local news playing earlier on the SXSW day stage, a haggle of equally bundled, and equally miserable looking fans sticking it out with her.
Here's what we saw at SXSW on Saturday that wasn't on the local Austin news:
GUN OUTFIT
Olympia's Gun Outfit has been described as "intelligent, slacker rock" and "deliberately hi-tech lo-fi." While those are certainly fair assessments, there's also a hint of mystery to the band - accentuated live by the way they hunch over their instruments, and have a way of sounding present yet feeling - sometimes - a thousand miles away. Inside Barberella in Austin last night as darkness set in, to a crowd of 20 or so people, that's exactly the kind of vibe the band created.
Visually, in terms of stage performance, Gun Outfit leaves a lot to be desired - there's just no way to dance around it. While the music grabs you, the players on stage stand like beatnik pillars - and that's when they're being inviting. Most of the time they're curled around their guitars, hair covering their face - or simply standing with a back toward the crowd.
Gun Outfit is about the music - and that's OK. Luckily they have a sound to back it up. But amidst an orgy like SXSW - where the choices are almost endless - it's hard for such an understated spectacle to stand out.
PARLOUR STEPS
I'll admit it. Last night at 9 p.m. was when the reality of the temperatures really started to set in. Earlier in the day, caught up in all the madness that is SXSW, we'd tried to trick ourselves into ignoring it. Sure, it was cold - and we didn't pack for it - but we weren't going to let something like that stop us, were we? No, of course not. ...
Inside Habana Calle 6, a half hour early for Visqueen's final appearance of SXSW, is where we started to reconsider. The first two nights had been spent veraciously hopping between venues, with as much time on the streets as in the clubs. Last night was different - whether we wanted to admit it or not. The warmth of the bodies all packed into Habana Calle 6 was far more inviting than almost anything on the outside.
Lucky for us, Canada's Parlour Steps (Isn't it cute how Canadians spell funny?) were on before Visqueen, leading us to discover a band we probably would have otherwise missed. With original song structures meshing nicely with classic pop sensibilities, not to mention rock solid vocal harmonies from the male/female combination of frontman Caleb Stull and bassist Julie Bavalis, Parlour Steps won over at least a few new fans last night - whether the frigid temperatures had anything to do with it or not. From Vancouver B.C., Stull promised the crowd Parlour Steps didn't bring the shitty weather with them. I don't know if I buy it, but I'm definitely glad that shitty weather led me to discover the band.
VISQUEEN
Thanks to Message to Garcia, and more accurately the long term musical relationship of frontwoman extraordinaire Rachel Flotard and man-candy drummer Ben Hooker, Visqueen is the toast of Seattle right now - or, at least one of the toasts. While Flotard's almost-too-stunning-for-rock voice and ability to write a catchy number have long been known, it feels like - just maybe - the band is starting to garner the type of attention it deserves. A packed house at Habana Calle - for Visqueen's final SXSW appearance - seemed to be indicative of just that.
Earlier in the day I'd caught up with Flotard to get her take on the entire SXSW experience.
"The appeal of SXSW to me is a chance to wait in line for exquisite BBQ instead of walking right up. This way, you can use the ‘hunger is the best sauce' technique, and really enjoy it," Flotard told me, never short for a great quote.
"And I'm here to deliver some rock."
That much was evident from the moment Flotard took off her hood and many layers after loading in and tuning up. Rocketing through a set heavy on tunes from Message to Garcia, but not neglectful of past gems from King Me and Sunset on Dateland like "Crush On Radio" and "Vaxxine," Visqueen was the same great live band the Northwest has come to expect - complete with jokes about having sex with Kip Winger and how ugly Ben the drummer is (the latter of which is standard fare at any Visqueen show). Flotard also - sincerely - thanked the crowd for their support, a gesture obviously from the heart coming from one of the hardest working bands our area has to trumpet.
"(The) best thing about the festival is that it exists. Worst thing about the festival is my jeans are too loose," Flotard told me earlier in the day, when asked about highlights of the SXSW experience.
For at least a few ears inside Habana Calle 6, after last night, Visqueen may now be right up there.
THE OH SEES
It wasn't supposed to end with San Francisco's The Oh Sees, but it did. After waiting a half hour to get into Mohawk, where the band was playing the patio, it became apparent this would be the final hoorah of SXSW 2010. My fingers were too purple to Tweet - the modern day journalist's worst nightmare.
If I was going to conclude my SXSW experience - unexpectedly - with one band, it might as well have been The Oh Sees - who delivered one of the most throat-grabbing sets I saw during my time in Austin. John Dwyer and Co. almost literally lit the stage on fire with a blues-inspired garage rock Molotov cocktail that got inside everyone's clothes and made us all wreak of sweet rock ‘n' roll. Though not a comparison in sound, The Oh Sees have the same ability as the White Stripes to feed you something that's so obviously an ode to the past, yet make it feel as though your ears and eyes are coming across something completely unique and unsoiled.
Thirty-seven degree weather be damned - The Oh Sees held us all in their warmth - even on the patio - and delivered the kind of inspired set this festival was built on.
After that, we grabbed a two-gallon jug of water for the morning - and plaguing dehydration - and hailed a cab.
Until next year, Austin.
LINK: Matt Driscoll's SXSW Twitter log