SXSW 2004

By Helen Spitzer, Joshua Ostroff, Susan Krepart David Dondero Perhaps no one loves the highway like David Dondero, a drifter blown in from the beat generation, our bard of the perpetual road. It was an uncharacteristically clean-cut Dondero who took the stage in Austin, looking mildly alarmed and singing tales mostly taken from the recent album The Transient. He stopped mid-song to quiz the audience on the precise colour of the Golden Gate Bridge ("orange vermillion," apparently), delivered a concise lecture on Joseph B. Straus and then picked up the song mid-sentence. Timeless sustenance for the road hungry and the road weary. HS Cracker / Camper Van Beethoven In the interminable hipsterville of Austin, it's surprising to encounter a capacity crowd completely lacking in irony. But this was exactly the case with the capacity, mostly Texan, crowd — high-trash hair, heels and hooters were de rigueur, as were the local boys completely tanked on Shiner and Tequila. It all made sense when the band appeared on stage decked in those abhorrent college dorm pyjama pants. Cracker were polished, if slightly short on passion, though they loosened considerably when the accordions came out to play. Guitarist and Benicio stunt double Mr. Cracker more than made up for Lowery's distracted performance, wanking that Gibson like he was still a teenager in his basement. The Camper set was muted and barely 15 minutes long, but not as heartbreaking as the disinterested stares and mass exodus that greeted it. HS Britt Daniel Spoon's Britt Daniel played a strenuous set in a concrete sweat pool of a venue. At the sound of his distinctive voice, the street below suddenly consisted of the hometown faithful swarming the boulevard and blocking traffic. He treated the assembled devotees to a great number of new songs, covered the Fiery Furnaces and looked incredibly grateful for the beer that greeted the end of his set. HS Division of Laura Lee "This is a song about Austin. We wrote it this morning," shouted D.O.L.L. singer Per Stålberg, launching into a raging version of "Black City," the title track off their, uh, 2002 release. The gag, of course, is that hardly anybody at SXSW had any idea who these dudes were — and the joke was on them. Far too good for their nine p.m. slot — even if it was in a big outdoor amphitheatre — the Swedish rockers offered up their garage-based post-punk epics and won over the crowd with their screamed harmonies, guitar histrionics and ugly/cool demeanour. JO The French Kicks Playing to a crowd lubed up on Constantines and free beer, the French Kicks couldn't fail unless they actively annoyed people. Total crowd-pleasers and more French Strokes than Kicks, they were pleasantly sloppy and supple, and were further augmented by lanky French Guy's gymnastic antics with the mic. HS Frog Eyes Frog Eyes came to Texas with their BC-bred style of stutter and twitch prepared to stun into submission both new acolytes and the intensely curious passer-by. Singer Carey Frog is nothing but compelling, effusive, intense and just plain weird, in the best way. With Frog Guy's delicious keyboards and Frog Girl's precision drumming giving shape to his Devendra-like whoops and hollers, they presented a kind of Canuck fuck rock primer for the uninitiated. Disorienting, hook-laden, sublime. HS Ted Leo and the Pharmacists Mere hours after Bush's Florida rally became a "U! S! A!" chant-a-thon and local protesters were rounded up by the Austin P.D., Ted Leo sent his money song, "Ballad of the Sin Father," out to the president. The crowd got into it, tambourines were passed around and a fat young fanboy and three indie rock girls were brought onstage, with the dude singing almost as impressively as Leo. Then the band launched into Stiff Little Fingers' "Suspect Device," an old song with a contemporary edge thanks to lyrics like, "they take away our freedom in the name of liberty." The set was almost good enough to hope Dubya gets re-elected, if he can inspire such high artistic loathing. Almost. JO Rykarda Parasol Rykarda Parasol is a striking woman; something of a less slutty Christina Aguilera, with a voice landing on the radar between PJ Harvey and Johnette Napolitano. The music played like a soundtrack to a David Lynch movie, equal parts sexy and creepy, with great harmonies from bassist Colleen Browne and the spook factor added by the busy Greg Benitz, with his bottleneck-slide guitar, keyboards and pedal manipulation. "En Route" provided one of the set's most uppity moments (if only in tempo) and the band's treatment of Gun Club's "She's Like Heroin" was heightened by Parasol's richly dark vocals. SK Grant Lee Phillips The packed venue was treated to an energetic set by Phillips, who started of his set with new single "Dirty Secret" off his new album, Virginia Creeper. He leaned heavily on material from his latest release, but also tempered his set with a mix of older songs and live favourites like "Truly Truly" and the title track from former band Grant Lee Buffalo's madly listenable Mighty Joe Moon. Pitch perfect, Phillips' hauntingly turbulent vocals seemed calmed by the warmth added by the fiddle and stand-up bass. His witty banter kept the already rapt crowd at ease, ensuring a steady connection between performer and audience throughout the night. SK Pretty Girls Make Graves In an expansive semi-outdoors warehouse space, Nathan Thelan and Jay Clark traded tightly packed riffs while keyboard lines added that now-familiar neo-post-punk edge. Despite occasionally seeming like a rock Björk, lead singer Andrea Zollo's fiercely beautiful vocals require no gratuitous comparisons. She was emotive without being emo, aggressive without being off-key and positively destroyed "This Is Our Emergency" and "Something Bigger, Something Brighter." JO Dani Siciliano It's not easy bringing the electronics to such a rock-oriented festival, as Ms. Siciliano quickly found out, admitting, "there's some tragic stuff going on sound-wise." With a full band, plus hubby Matthew Herbert on the effects machines, she tried her best to bring her first solo album, Likes, to life. No matter, even with technical difficulties marring the torchtronica soundscapes, her voice was crystalline and her scatting and clarinet playing were both impressive and endearing. JO The Thrills Peaking with "Big Sur," their ode to California (and Kerouac?), Irish buzz act the Thrills turned out to be the best possible way to spend a sunny Friday afternoon sipping free mojitos and lazing in the warm air and sweeping riffs. Although adding a harmonica was about as edgy as they got, they played a few decent new songs, which nicely built on their catalogue of charming West Coast pop, in the same vein as their sing-along "Santa Cruz (You're Not That Far)." The guitars were tight, the keyboards Monkees-esque and hell, they even managed to attract a real movie star, Minnie Driver. JO Trachtenberg Family Slideshow Players One of the buzz bands of last year's festival, the Trachtenberg Family Slideshow Players were rewarded this year with a berth in a sweaty sardine can with limited capacity. The unfortunate environment was noted by front-man and Trachtenberg family father Jason, who asked for a round of applause for the 100 or so people still waiting in line outside the venue halfway through the band's set. Rounded out by Jason's wife Tina and the couple's daughter Rachel, the group relies on miscellaneous and anonymous visual slides as the inspiration for the absurd, humorous and whimsical songs created about them. With such a strong reliance on the visual aspect, some fans may not be able to fully appreciate the band through audio alone, as was the case this night thanks to the piss-poor sightlines. SK TV On The Radio That afternoon, this Brooklyn band played a pretty good set — one that made their hype seem relatively deserved — but in their Friday night slot, they busted out one of the festival's most impassioned performances. With ears loosened from Silkworm's enormously loud sludge rock, the New York four-piece dropped hip-swivelling song after song backed by amphetamised drumbeats, jacked up guitars and Tunde Adebimpe's spiritually-infused vocals, which competed with the Dear's Murray Lightburn for the best of the fest. It all culminated in an ecstatic crowd sing-along during their soaring trademark number "Staring at the Sun," and left little doubt that TV on the Radio's tech-rock revolution is worth signing up for. JO The Unicorns Montreal boy-band the Unicorns had some troubles crossing the border. Maybe it was a shoplifting charge, maybe it was, as the band suggested onstage, an attempted murder charge. No matter, when they finally showed up a couple days late, they wasted no time in getting their weird on. From their first utterance — "Austin smells like cum" — and the Kylie Minogue/50 Cent medley, to their absent-minded basketball dribbling and on-stage chin-ups, which nearly took the outdoors tent down, the Unicorns peculiar blend of carnival-esque gay pop metal stayed just this side of ridiculous, even during the dance breakdowns and crowd-surfing. But only just. JO VietNam The first night of a festival seems particularly conducive to new discoveries — venues are sparse and sightlines still amazing. As we climbed the endless stairs into the venue, VietNam were already greeting the night with great big jangle-y washes of guitar and the sexy yelps of a man insisting he was "insatiated." Their leisurely discordant droning gave way to sustained sonic explosions, contrasted against a drummer who played so clean and precise he seemed lifted from a high school marching band. Their nods to the VU songbook gave the space-y country escapades a refreshing bite, as if Constellation Records and Bloodshot conspired to sire the child of Satan. Their menacing demeanour was tempered by their matching striped shirts (and the most fantastic handlebar moustache of the fest), which was perhaps a Francophile nod to fellow drama queens the Dears, with whom they shared the bill. HS Von Bondies For a guy who has so many apparent problems with Jack White, Jason Stollsteimer's band sure doesn't mind paying homage to him. The Von Bondies opened with "Title of Communication," from the 2001 album of the same name, and the energy continued as the band fired off a set based mostly on its new album, Pawn Shoppe Heart. First single "C'mon C'mon" bled into "Broken Heart" and the band boosted its energy by adding bassist Carrie Smith on "The Fever." The set was good, but left one thinking that there may be a band at any one of the 250 venues around town putting the nearly clichéd "Detroit rock" formula into play at that exact moment who didn't happen to have the publicity (mis)fortune of getting punched in the face by White. SK The Wrens If there was any residual doubt that the Wrens are indie rock royalty, it was put to rest at SXSW. On a blazing hot rooftop patio, the middle-aged rockers hollered, shrieked and sweated for the masses. The sun-drunk crowed responded with total devotion, with long-time fans singing every word and teenagers begging for picks and drumsticks. When drummer Jerry Wren emerged from his kit to politely hand it over, he explained affably, "I'm a dad." And when the sound bled through from the kick-ass band playing next door, the world's nicest rock band just picked up and played along. HS