As the BBC has clasped SxSW to its bosom, the UK contingent (punters and bands) has soared. This year, that meant an excess of well-spoken, floppy-fringed young men in the post-Keane and sub-Franz Ferdinand categories. My, have those bands got something to answer for. Luckily, there were also several less refined but more entertaining acts around, such as the Heights, who pluckily performed two sets when the Editors’ gear was rained upon and rendered unusable. The second set was blasted out in a state of hospitality-induced wastedness and all the more entertaining for it.
In a similar category were the Arctic Monkeys. Great fun, but don’t believe the PR; in years to come, marketing students will write dissertations about how this band was promoted. Their show was far from sold out. We walked straight into the venue and to the front of the stage just minutes before they went on; by contrast, the previous night, people had queued for hours to get into Morrissey’s show. The following day’s press reports talked of people clamoring for admission and the Arctic Monkeys being mobbed by teenage girls, but neither claim was true. Anyway, the performance was okay but sloppy, their attempt at gear trashing was feeble, and their treatment of the photographers was a disgrace. They love being photographed, they need to be photographed, so to wait until the photo pit was cleared after three numbers and then abuse the snappers as they left was pure hypocrisy.
Others who flew the UK flag were mainly bands who wore their influences on their sleeves, respectively the self-same Editors (Joy Division), the bug-eyed, disturbingly manic but strangely entertaining Rakes (Wire), and of course the Mystery Jets (er … Yes? Pictured at right). At last, a real meaning for dad-rock.
Old stagers coming up with the goods included the Pretenders, being themselves but with the drummer even more barking than usual (they did an eight-song encore, slightly uncalled-for, as it was pouring rain) and the highly sought-after Matthew Sweet and Susanna Hoffs combination (sexy as hell even from behind - and incidentally a gig you wouldn’t have got into even if you’d waited days). Slightly chubbier than in their youth were Echo and the Bunnymen (Ian McCullough being reliably grumpy) and the Charlatans UK, who’ve still got the funk.
It’s little known what turmoil has afflicted World Party in recent years (Karl Wallinger had brain surgery), but they are reborn against the odds and now heavily feature the Blockheads’ John Turnbull. The singalong to “Put The Message In The Box� could have been heard in neighboring states. Billy Bragg had the tiny Cedar Street Courtyard hanging on his every word, delving deep into his back catalogue with “Greetings To The New Brunette� and “Milkman Of Human Kindness.� He also treated the audience to a few well-received home truths about the US administration. How lovely, too, to see the rapturous reception afforded to a great act from Iran called 127. Austin isn’t at all like certain other parts of Texas.
It always pays to keep an eye out for the legendary “special guests.� The spot normally means something very special indeed, so it was with optimism that I joined a queue for the Dirty Pretty Things in a little venue called Eternal. Sure enough, after a severe frisking (no cameras allowed), the optimism was justified, as there on the little stage were the Flaming Lips setting up their gear. Complete with their giant balloons, confetti, and other paraphernalia, they began with a full-length, note-perfect rendition of “Bohemian Rhapsody� and went upwards from there. The community singalong on “Yoshimi vs. the Pink Robots� was heart-warming in the extreme. The hapless Dirty Pretty Things couldn’t even attempt to follow, sounding like a tenth-rate version of Razorlight before getting pulled after four songs.
From the hundreds of day parties, easily the best was the hootenanny thrown by Six Shooter Records of Canada (mission statement: “Life is too short to listen to shitty music�). An endless procession of great acts played a couple of songs each as the tequila shots flowed. Ones to watch: the Leather Uppers, giving a whole new take on the duo format, the meanest slide guitar of the weekend courtesy of Rachelle van Zanten, and of course, the wonderful Luke Doucet, definitely a star of the future.
So every day you meet new people at SxSW, and the first question is inevitably, “What’s been the best thing you’ve seen?� No hesitation. If you go straight from a Flaming Lips show and the next performance is even better, it must be really something. Minnesota’s Mark Mallman simply destroyed Exodus with the most spectacular, crazy and enthralling stage show you’re ever likely to encounter. He’s “Mr. Serious,� and this year, he was the tops.
