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- 2005 South by Southwest
- Random Notes
By Dante Dominick
One of the great joys of SXSW is the ability to bop around
from place to place and check out the happenings. There's so
much in such a tightly compacted area, that this is a good approach.
Some of the really big name acts create a quandary. Even if you
have a wristband or media badge, a venue can only hold so many
people. None of the venues are arenas, mind you. Most are small
bars, and there's a three or four small concert venues that hold
a thousand (guesstimate). A friend lamented after his first SXSW
that he really only saw four bands he liked and that doesn't
merit the $130. His strategy was to ensure entry to major acts
by getting to the host venue three or four hours early. This
eliminates the bop phenomenon, which I tend to prefer. Of course
it's all a matter of priorities. This year I camped out at one
venue longer than usual, but it was never for one act. Regardless,
below are additional ramblings from mindless wanderings in addition
to the long-winded showcase reviews I've provided thus far.
Tift
Merrit first caught my attention at the first Austin City
Limits Festival in 2001. I was instantly a fan. Wonderful songs
and wonderful personality emanated from the stage as she strummed
her acoustic guitar and sang beautiful stories of life. A cute-faced
breath of fresh air. Apparently cute doesn't go over well in
some circles. Her stage set now is sexy. I felt embarrassed for
the fallen Americana angel. Her lead guitarist looked and sounded
like Slash from Guns 'n Roses. They engaged in ludicrous rock
jock antics, leaning against each other's backs while rocking
out (even more absurd since Merrit had no guitar). The keyboard
player had spiked blue and white hair and moved like the Mike
Meyer's Dieter character (from Myers' old "Sprockets"
skit on SNL). Merrit ran about, clapping her hands overhead
and flaunting her womanly attributes. Merrit was hot, no doubt
about it...but I'm not talking about music. When reviewing musicians
I rarely (if ever) mention their sexual allure, it's irrelevant
to most music. But Merrit is most obviously going for this angle
now, so, give the girl what she wants. Her cleavage looked nice,
especially as the set went on and sweat began trickling, forming
rivulets that glistened as her chest heaved with heavy breathing.
What she sang about, I don't know. But, according to my imagination,
she's very flexible.
What a shame. The music industry. What a shame.
Speaking
of the music industry, it is truly nauseating. SXSW is a playground
for industry weasels; they're everywhere. Occasional reality-checks
provide flashes of thoughts: this event is the heinous witches
cauldron. The proverbial Death Star of the galaxy Music, perpetuating
the elimination of future generations who aspire to make music
because they love it. The further saturated the music industry
becomes, the more young children will know no alternative to
music other than as glitzy entertainment, American Idol-style
dreams of fame and money replace emotional drives to create.
The weasels are even worse; they didn't even have the courage
to get in the bright lights. But if industry success has found
them, they believe they are gods. Even low-rung "insiders"
find glory in these few days with the coveted media badge. Thousands
of hacks wear the badges continuously, seemingly in bed even,
cooing them to sleep at night. Locals mock them. "Uh, you're
in line for coffee, dude." The badge won't gain anything
for another nine or ten hours, but it's there on display for
everyone else around 'em with the very same badge.
The really funny thing is, and this is off the subject, but
any old Tuesday night in Austin would provide three or four musical
options that kick the ass out of 99.5% of what was on display
during SXSW. So for the record: most of the other 51 weeks would
be a better time for a pure, unadulterated music fan to visit.
But if you want to mix partying with an orgy of music...shebam!
SXSW is the shizit.
Did I just type shizit? Egad, am I a weasel?
Enough
of that. There is an orgy to get back to (of music people, stay
with me). The hands-down winner of this year's "Didn't See
It Coming Award" is Chatham County Line. This award
is bestowed upon the best band that meets the following criteria:
I was previously ignorant, stumbled upon them aimlessly and proceeded
to fall in love with their music.
Outdoors on a gorgeous Saturday morning/afternoon at yet another
magnificent shindig at Yard Dog Art Gallery, the four men took
the stage in suits. They might have been tailored, but the shaggy
beards and mussed hair gave an antiquated, thrift store feel.
Huddled around one mic were guitar, mandolin, banjo and bass.
They didn't open with a hardcore bluegrass sound though. They
offered a melodic wonder, a beautifully wrenching song of tortured
love that sucked me in.
They entered more bluegrassy waters and swam around its perimeters.
If The Band had ever done bluegrass, this is what it would have
sounded like (only Garth Hudson probably would've added some
accordion).
Dave Wilson (guitar) sang most numbers, but mandolin/fiddle
player John Teer took the lead for a Jimmie Rodgers tune and
regaled the crowd with his ability to hold a high note forever
with great intensity.
They have a brand new release, Route 23, on Yep Roc
Records. Check back to Rockzillaworld in the upcoming weeks for
a full review.
 (Left:
Beer Buffet)Have I previously mentioned the free buffets
available? Buffets of food, of course, but all you can hear music
and all you can drink beer buffets as well. Fajitas seem to reign
supreme in the realm of free vittles. But one utopian setting
of delicious food and atmosphere was at the San Jose Hotel. Directly
across from the storied Continental Club on South Congress Avenue,
this is a jewel of a place. Its courtyard is relaxing and elegant.
On SXSW Saturday DKNY staffed the place with polite attendants
and catered a gourmet buffet and offered imported beer. DKNY
makes clothes or something that from what I understand are expensive.
This day one would have thought they were a charitable organization.
When will the fascination with Japan Night end?
Annually it is one of the biggest draws, receives the most buzz.
Fine and all, I'm up for anything cross-cultural and worldly,
but come on. It's not as if they present some Asian culture.
The acts at Japan night are basically doing the same exact thing
any loud punk/art/rock. American's get this feeling that only
we can do it and derive a perverse thrill seeing "others"
who look and talk different do it. Just because they're Japanese
doesn't mean they're good.
Even Petty Booka is getting tiresome. This duo of young
Japanese females in cowboy regalia play ukuleles and sing country
hits or cheesy oldies, some Hawaiian songs too. It is the ultimate
in schtick, I'll admit, but schtick should hold you for half
an hour maybe before growing weary. Every year people eat it
up like cake and ice cream. I guess I should not be a curmudgeon
and assume they all just became aware of them. I was excited
the first time too.
Okay, that explains Petty Booka. But what about the rest of
the inaudible metal rock the same critic wouldn't flip for any
day of the year except for the night it's played by Japanese
during SXSW?
Contact Dante Dominick at dominick-at-rockzilla.net
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