Being a SXSW virgin, I'm still getting the hang of how to best navigate the festival. Tuesday night, I basically hunkered down at one specific club. Last night, I felt the need to compensate by hitting somewhere between seven and eight clubs. It was a whirlwind evening, but an absolute blast.
I started early at ND at 501 Studios on the East side. My intention was to catch all of John Maus' set, but I only ended up getting there in time for his last two songs. On one wall of the venue was a massive screen displaying intensely psychedelic visuals, but the real show was Maus himself. Being more familiar with his music than his backstory, I wasn't sure what to expect, so I was pretty amused to discover that Maus is a very average-looking dude, singing along to backing tracks on a Roland 404 sampler while gesticulating awkwardly, pumping his fists, and doing jumping jacks and other callisthenic exercises. If he'd sung his bleary baritone pop in drag from atop an African elephant, I think it actually would have felt less weird. It was an endearing performance, and the crowd seemed to be digging it.
The next band I saw was Woodsman—jammy, trippy rockers from Colorado. They played on an outdoor stage at Cheer Up Charlie's, which was the perfect setting for their psychoactive noodling. The set started slow, building gradually into sweeping stoner rock. It was balmy, the sun had just set, and gusts of wind would occasionally whorl up light clouds of dust into the crowd's eyes. By the end of their epic first song, Woodsman guitarist Mark Demolar had broken two strings on his guitar. While a stagehand rushed to procure another, bandmate Trevor Peterson lent his guitar to Demolar, and the band launched into another track. Peterson sang into a mic that was plugged into a dizzying array of effects pedals, producing strange and alien sounds. When Peterson was handed a new axe, the band tore into more material from their awesome new record Rare Forms. By the time their set wound down, distant searchlights were tracing faint arcs in the night sky behind them. It was a magical performance, and one that I seriously enjoyed. So, too, apparently, did the ladies from No Joy, who I happened to spy in the crowd.
From there, I hoofed it to a club called Fuze, where young Vallejo rapper Droop-E was set to perform. Before Droop-E (aka Earl Stevens, Jr.) came on, an emcee thanked the crowd and dished about how hiphop at SXSW was a fairly recent phenomenon, dating back—in his estimation—only about three or four years (2011 marks the festival's twenty-fifth anniversary. Hiphop and rap music have arguably been around for at least thirty years). I was pumped when Droop-E and his requisite Hype Man took the stage. His recent free EP BLVCK Diamond Life is out-of-this-world awesome, with West Coast cadences poured over sick beats and Sade Adu samples.
"Sade is pretty much the greatest artist ever," Droop-E told the disbelieving crowd. "[She's in the] top ten at least."
As someone who's spent an inordinate amount of time and energy tracking and attempting to document the recent resurgence in adult contemporary, smooth jazz, soft rock, and new age sounds in various genre varietals of independent music, I had no problem stomaching Droop-E's claim. BLVCK Diamond Life constitutes one of the most successful attempts at reviving and recontextualizing outré retro schmaltz.
He kicked his set off with "I'm Loaded" (which ingeniously samples Sade singing "I'm lonely" in such a way that it sounds like she's echoing Droop-E's braggadocio), and followed it with "Like a Tattoo," "Hungry," and the Björk-sampling "Spend the Night." Though Droop-E and his Hype Man plugged BLVCK Diamond Life ad infinitum, I was impressed that they never mentioned Droop-E's blood connection to big-timer E-40 (E-40 is his father, Suga-T and D-Shot are his aunt and uncle). The kid's going to make it on his own damn steam. If I had any complaints about Droop-E's set, it would be that a) it was way too short and b) he deserved a much, much bigger crowd.
After Droop-E, I flitted in and out of a handful of clubs, catching snippets of DJ sets and performances by various UK artists. By the end of the night, I was at Mohawk, taking in some of hard-rap collective Curren$y's set and music by solo emo-step artist Baths. I'd recently seen Baths in Seattle, but last night afforded me a more intimate opportunity to take in some of the new songs he's been playing on the road. They seemed to be even more melodramatic than his Cerulean songs, if you can believe it.
Today, I intend to catch as many (or more) bands, including some locals. And the forecast is for even warmer weather. To cite the title of a Woodsman jam, I'll have to try and "Beat the Heat."