Days uno, dos and tres of South By Southwest disappeared as fast as the guy I saw urinating in a public trashcan, but not in comparison to Saturday. It turned out to be the day of legends past, present and future, and I leave it to you to figure out where Daryl Hall fits in all of that. Flying “solo” without Oates, DH still can hit them out of the park, although his voice has aged a bit. Just don’t call him blue-eyed soul, and if you want to sample “You Make My Dreams,” pay up! “Sara Smile” and “Rich Girl” done acoustically worked a bunch of monster fans into a lather during the latter portion of his Q&A session at the convention center.
Although I didn’t use the Dell Blogger Cage provided (maybe it’s for Perez-level scribes), I still enjoyed Paste‘s final day of partying at Volume. I think there were a lot of other sponsors involved in the weeklong event, including some happy avocado farms. The High Places were finishing painting musical palm trees on the walls just as I came in. Then Portland twang bangers Blitzen Trapper sorta impressed me. I was drawn in by the amount of instruments a red-headed fella handled, including acoustic guitar, cowbell, melodica and a Casio. Sadly, no kazoo.
Blitzen Trapper @ Volume
After a brief intermission and more free Southern Comfort, No Age showed that two guys are all you need for a raw, noise-punk racket. When drummer Dean Spunt got some flak from the crowd for removing his neon sunglasses, he shot back: “Are my eyeballs that ugly?” New tracks and old faves like “Everybody’s Down” got guitarist Randy Randall so riled up that he perched himself on top of the speakers at set’s close.
No Age @ Volume
No Age @ Volume
A resourceful pal alerted me that legend and current overlord J. Mascis was about to play at an outdoor party held on the grounds of the French Legation Museum, a swank spot surrounded by stone walls and classy architecture. The revelers packing the elegant lawn and rows of folding chairs set up under a massive tent made for a scene straight out of a college graduation. Looking a bit like a wizard with his stringy, grey locks, Mascis roared through old favorites. With the help of a distortion pedal and a sampler, his acoustic guitar buzzed louder than a hedge trimmer.
J. Mascis (from a ways away) @ French Legation Museum
No less potent was Sonic Youth’s Thurston Moore amping up his acoustic for cuts from his latest solo joint, Trees Outside the Academy, including “The Shape Is In A Trance,” “Silver Turns to Blue,” and “Friend” (for all of his “dudes"). Phosphorescent‘s Matthew Houck and ace blogger/musician Carrie Brownstein were among the observers. “See you in the streets,” Moore said to his audience at the end. “Either that or I’ll see you at Jandek."
Thurston & Band @ French Legation Museum
No point rehashing too much on She & Him after seeing them earlier in the week, but it was nice to see Zooey Deschanel, M. Ward able to get a little more comfortable onstage Saturday. They rolled through nine songs from Volume 1, in stores Tuesday. For the whistle-worthy “I Thought I Saw Your Face Today,” she slid behind a vintage keyboard to accompany herself, and M. joned here there at the very end. A group of people leaving the show at the same time as me were making plans to “grab a six-pack and head to the church.” Yup.
She @ 7th and Red River because they turned out much better
Him @ 7th and Red River
One of the shows I was most excited for coming into SXSW was brash folk singer-songwriter Pepi Ginsberg. Sincerity is hard to come by at a music livestock show, but she joyfully kicked her legs and showed that her voice—the most evocative and unique that I’ve heard since Joanna Newsom—is genuine and even more stunning in a live setting. I will never tire of hearing “In My Bones,” and hopefully she can teach her backing band to sing the delicious harmonies found on Red (featuring plenty of assists from Dr. Dog’s Scott McMicken), out in May.
Pepi Ginsberg @ Emo’s Annex
Savory mole enchiladas were on the menu at El Chile, so it wasn’t the end of the world that I got back to the Emo’s tent just as The High Strung bashed through the last infectious bars of “Rimbaud/Rambo.” My stomach did turn a little during the set to follow. The string-enhanced, male-female indie ensemble Ra Ra Riot prompted a trusted pal to say he was hearing the literal “string cheese incident” and he wasn’t far off. I wasn’t sold on the softie singer and his goofy declarations, but the crowd got thick in a hurry. Many flashbulbs were pointed at Alexandra Lawn, the pretty cellist who seems to have a “come hither” look permanently fixed on her face. I used their set as an opportunity to sit down on the side and rest my legs, aching and sore from a whole week of just standing up.
Ra Ra Riot @ Emo’s Annex
I had to get the hell back up for longtime fave the Teeth. The stage came alive as this barnstorming Philly quartet smashed through Kinks-and-Costello-inspired material on their impeccable Carry The Wood EP and You’re My Lover Now. The choreographed cacophony included a pair of shoes hitting the roof, a popped red balloon and harmonizing you will hear when you see the Teeth when they come to your town and you buy a ticket and go.
Teeth in action @ Emo’s Annex
Yes, he eventually pops the balloon @ Emo’s Annex
Playing the waiting game was better than standing up during the Spinto Band. Although these guys are scrubbed as clean as the first day of 9th grade, I couldn’t do it. I did tap my foot during “Oh Mandy” from the sidelines.
Before I started ignoring Spinto Band @ Emo’s Annex
It all came down to rock technicolor masters Dr. Dog, a band I’m as familiar with in a live setting as any. “You only get two sets of ears in your life,” Scott McMicken said to those ready to brave the Dog’s noise from the front row. Although he corrected himself, I wouldn’t be surprised to hear it as one of their ass-backwards lyrics in the future. As they often do, the fellas closed the set (and my week) with the crowd favorite “Wake Up.”
The good Dr. @ Emo’s Annex
On that note, the balcony and the Moleskine notebook are closed. Many thanks to the folks who liberally share sunscreen, the folks on New Zealand TV and all of the brave individuals who bankrolled trudged around with me this past week.
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Ra Ra Riot promoting The Virgins. Sweet.