I've been battling the fevers and the flus since SXSW wrapped up. It drained me good.
From the dirty hipsters pouring into the Driskill, to the corporate-badged executives, to the indie-film pirates, to the struggling bands, to the next big thing "hype machine" bloggers, 6th Street and the rest of downtown Austin offers a cozy week-long home to the festival that offers so much of what is great about Austin.
Armed with a badge from my company (the highlight of my employment there) I sought to take full advantage of my "all-access" status, and did so with admirable diligence. Knowing full-well that I would never drop the requisite $600 for a badge at any point in the future, I decided to let it be a badge of honor and adhere to my musical curiosities. I won't play music magazine correspondent, or indie-blogger and give you a detailed rundown of each and every band I saw, but I will let you in on some of the things I witnessed with my own eyes, and give a few highlights...
~ MGMT
~ Lou "Fucking" Reed (as he ascends up the ladder of legend)
~ Moby
~ Cut Copy
~ Thurston Moore
~ Joseph Arthur
~ Lucero
~ The Black Angels
~ The Cribbs
~ These New Puritans (who were hands down the shittiest band I've ever seen in my life...only worth noting because of said shittiness)
~ Kate Nash
~ My Morning Jacket
~ Hymns
~ Chester French
~ Man Man
~ The Vines
~ The Airborne Toxic Event
~ Sea Wolf
~ The Von Bondies
~ Be Your Own Pet
So on, so on, and so forth...
I also stood eye to eye with Billy Crudup outside of a 6th Street Bar (not as tall as I thought), watched Tom Morello give an interview to SPIN Magazine, and I walked under a crane that held a two-ton Matt Pinfield as he conducted an interview with quite possibly the hottest girl I've ever seen in my life...no fucking clue who she was or how scared she might have been that Matt Pinfield probably wanted to eat her. I'm about 98.5% sure that I saw Caleb Followill walking (sauntering...I guess the Kings of Leon saunter, don't they) down 7th Street. I worked a party at Lance Armstrong's house for a benefit he hosted for the film portion of SXSW and met (a still unbelievably hot) Morgan Fairchild, an aging Dan Rather, Paul Mitchell (the hair guy), Lance Armstrong of course, and my personal celebrity highlight of SXSW...one Billy Gibbons of ZZ Top at Lance Armstrong's party and then again during SXSW drinking a mojito in the fucking Brown Bar (the most unlikely of places to see Billy Gibbons, or anybody associated with ZZ Top).
Some friends came into town and we went nuclear for lack of better phrasing. Sneaking in and out of shows. For a more detailed explanation of the underbelly of the week, you can go here.
The great thing about SXSW that separates it from other music festivals (such as the notably more top-heavy ACL) is that in it's truest form it's meant to launch the "next big thing." It's a mecca for industry execs, A&R reps, bloggers, filmmakers, and hipsters, to be a part of and/or witness the showcase of unknown talent. Obviously, it's become a bit more than that, but at it's roots it still serves as the record industry's largest event (worldwide) for uncovering new talent. Austin swells to become the hipster-music-snob-indie-entertainer capital of the world for one week, and I think it's quite lovely.
Massive hangover and week-long battle with the flu from the fallout aside (wasn't helped by being kicked out of one of my favourite bars for almost fighting the bartender which resulted in my night-long slumber in the backseat of my truck in the basement of a parking garage to wrap up the week), I was impressed with the spectacle...no matter how far it's strayed from its origins. Late night stumbling down 6th in a drunken-dizzy haze, you can feel a sort of energy. I think it stems from the hunger that drives the artists...you can feel their desires and aspirations tangibly. It's an excitable energy. I think it's a great garment that fits well in the wardrobe that dresses Austin.
I'll be impressed if Vampire Weekend can sustain a lengthy and healthy career, as they were the darlings of the festival. Asking anybody though, you were told that they were "played out." The modern age is a cruel age.
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