Farewell and goodnight
3/19/2006 11:00:00 PM
Well, it’s all over, folks. But it ended well. For my final show, I went to Japan Nite at a club called Elysium and caught Japanese pop-punkers Ellegarden. And I’m glad I did. These kids got the best response of the whole festival.
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| You want to see what they look like, you work your way through the mosh pit. |
When I was in Japan, I saw a Battle of the Bands, and the characteristic shared by the performers—and their audience—was a winning enthusiasm. Bands rocked out with massive grins on their faces, and the crowd ran, jumped, and yelled. When they figured out that I, the only gaijin in the room, loved rock music too, they were thrilled, and I spent most of the night being bombarded by questions about my tastes. Of course, angst and mopery have their place in rock—what kind of Smiths fan would I be if I denied that?—but the unabashed glee that these guys had was really refreshing.
Though I hesitate to generalize about an entire country of rockers, it might not be coincidence that Ellegarden shared this quality. Beaming, they thanked Austin for the warm welcome it gave them, and then bashed, leapt, and pinwheeled their way through their crowd-pleasing melodic rock tunes. I couldn’t help but feel that they were playing with such energy not out of an abstract commitment to rock theatrics but just because music is fun as hell.
Every number ended with the audience going wild, and people were crowd-surfing like it was 1994 all over again. I couldn’t get anywhere near the front. Did everyone get really into Ellegarden without me even noticing? Given my ignorance of most music news, it’s certainly possible, but I’m inclined to believe these unknowns (here at least) earned their response just by being a really, really good time.
The real pleasure was at the end—they announced their final song and then split. Now, the rock encore has become a complete red herring. Where once you’d be thrilled to coax a performer back on stage, now you just wait, irritated, through a cursory break period before you get your two final songs or whatever. But, Japan Nite being a revue format, encores were not expected.
Well, the crowd simply would not let them go, screaming for more until the band came back out for one more number. Then it happened again. And then it happened a third time, with the lead singer asking the club owners, humbly, whether it was really OK to play another song. An awesome and spontaneous display of rockitude that I’ve rarely seen matched. Hats off.
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| The last grope |
When that ended, I wandered down 6th St., checking out the scene. Massive crowds filled the street. I had hoped to see semi-local heroes Okkervil River, but there was no way I was getting in to that—everyone had rallied for one last good time.
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| Post-apocalyptic desolation |
Today, the whole city feels empty. The traditional closing softball tournament got rained out. A few scattered shows are still on. I could go see legendary Austin band The FuckEmo’s, or Metallagher, a Metallica cover band fronted by a Gallagher impersonator. Surely the best bad idea since Dread Zeppelin. (As I write this, I realized that I missed seeing Smoosh, the indie band led by two thirteen-year-old girls. Would’ve been a great opportunity to hang out with my fellow journalists… they should call that band “Free Scoop.”) But frankly, I’m exhausted, and ready for a week-long nap. And some video games. Nice, quiet video games.
That said, the week has been truly kickass. Seeing Morrissey and meeting Billy Bragg were unforgettable experiences, and I thank Hooksexup and SXSW for letting me have them. May the spirit of Randy Rhoads play a thousand awesome licks in their honor. ‘Til next time!
Permalink : https://hooksexup.com/Hooksexupblog/sxsw2006blog.aspx?id=101e4018#4018
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Tacos, anyone?
3/19/2006 5:30:00 PM
I was looking forward to seeing Al Franken: God Spoke, a documentary following the comedian’s bloody battle with Bill O’Reilly through 2004, and I bounded out of bed, despite near crippling rock exhaustion, to see it. A lot of other people were on the same page--there was a long line of SXSW-goers and locals (possibly the largest group of Al Franken fans in Texas). Unfortunately, while I like Franken’s politics and his sense of humor, I can't say much for his choice of documentarians. The film is sloppy as hell. Bummer.
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| Somebody call Mathnet |
The best moments are those wherein Franken breaks down specific lies from the right. Example: Brit Hume says on FOX News that Iraq is less dangerous than California: more Americans are killed every day in California than in Iraq, “which has roughly the same geographic area.” Never mind that there are more than thirty million Americans in California, and 100,000 in Iraq. This goes beyond the realm of “distortion” and in to straight-up lie, and Franken nails him for it. Very satisfying.
But when Franken and O’Reilly (and Hannity) face off, Franken has trouble keeping his cool, so we see two men shouting at each other. I think Bill O’Reilly is a liar and a bully, and I think Al Franken’s a decent guy with a pretty firm understanding of factuality, but you’d never know it from this documentary. Bonus points, though, for a terrifying appearance by right-wing harpy Ann Coulter. That part’s as effective as any horror film.
Stay tuned for final remarks.
Permalink : https://hooksexup.com/Hooksexupblog/sxsw2006blog.aspx?id=101e4016#4016
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One for Woody Guffrie
3/18/2006 8:00:00 PM
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| Who is this mystery rocker? Read on! |
The Court Street Courtyard is long and narrow, with the stage at one end—problematic for getting a good spot, but I got there before it got too crowded and managed to get up to the front, where the Klezmatics were nearing the end of their set. This klezmer band played a couple songs in the format of “The Twelve Days of Christmas”—-i.e., recursive counting songs, but with an anti-war bent. Cool band.
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| The Milkman bringing the milk |
When Billy Bragg came out, he fussed with his guitar for a minute before shrugging and launching into “The Milkman of Human Kindness,” the first track of his first EP. It’s a lovely and tender call to compassion that always makes me want to be a better person, and a great way to start.
As he pointed out in his interview, for better or for worse, no one really sounded like him back in the day, and no one does now either. Playing alone with a only-kind-of-tuned electric guitar (slightly distorted and reverbed for a percussive sound), he performs songs about political struggle and songs about losing your girlfriend with equal passion. He has no voice to write home about, and sings in a thick London accent (the hero he often cites is “Woody Guffrie;” the villain, “Margaret Fatcher”). All in all, seeing him in a little venue is perfect—-intimate, warm, and exciting (sounds pretty good, eh?)
He played a short but rich set of mostly early material, including “To Have and Have Not” (covered sometimes by Rancid) and “Greetings to the New Brunette,” then closed with his classic “A New England,” with which everybody sang along. Though the guy next to me kept fucking up the words. He’s NOT looking for a new England, you knucklehead!
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| This accordion kills fascists |
A minute later, Bragg returned with the Klezmatics to cover “All You Fascists,” a song by Bragg from lyrics by Guthrie. Again, everyone sang along with “All you fascists are bound to lose.” Fascism may seem like an easy target in 2006, but Bragg made sure we knew he didn’t mean it as a period piece. In sum, rousing and a great time.
What followed after the Billy Bragg show, for me, was a funny misadventure. I realized I had a few minutes to get to the Arctic Monkeys show. I knew nothing about them except that they had somehow managed to get through an entire massive-hype-followed-by-massive-backlash cycle in what seemed like a week-—a hysterical distillation of indie’s tidal shifts in what’s acceptable.
I was on West 4th St., and had about two minutes to get to West 14th St. Cabs, as they’ve been all week, were in short supply, but I managed to flag a guy down. He had a woman in the cab already, heading to East 4th, but said he’d drop her off and then take me to 14th. So we headed over to the Hilton on East 4th, and when she got out, the cabbie asked me where on West 14th I was going, and I said a club called La Zona Rosa. He said, “I know of this place, my friend. It is on West 4th St.” I’d messed up while juggling a dozen addresses and bars in my head. At which point we got caught in ten minutes of traffic. Then he gave me a breadstick, but then he asked if I had anything sweet, and I gave him a granola bar. In sum, ten bucks and a granola bar for a breadstick and a joy-ride.
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| England's hottest indistinct blobs |
I should not be attempting to make it to packed shows on time, since I am clearly too stupid, but it ended up being a moot point since there was a line around the block of people who couldn’t get in. I believe the white dot in the middle of this picture is an Arctic Monkey though. Tangentially, they might have to get the Test Icicles Memorial Award for Worst Band Name, if I don’t give it to Storage 24, the metalcore band I saw this afternoon. I mean, is that meant to be parody of Store 24, of all things? I just do not understand popular music anymore. Clearly I'm getting old.
Industrious YouTubers have already put up a video of Morrissey playing “How Soon Is Now?” on Thursday; check it out here. Tremolo technology seems to have improved since the ‘80s—-the Smiths themselves could never get that damn song to sync up live. You can also watch an old BBC clip of Billy Bragg playing “A New England” here.
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You just can’t go wrong with a taco
3/18/2006 3:30:00 PM
So, I missed the Angry Angles yesterday (to see Billy Bragg speak) but I did catch the band before them. I think they were called “The Rat Traps.” This is what they'd look like if your eyes were a camera with a really bad shutter speed:
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| The Rat Traps, live in a rat trap |
Basically a noisy punk band with two guitars and no bass, but I will say that the drummer was hilarious. Not because he was telling jokes, or looked funny or anything, but just because he was dropping about one beat out of every ten or so. I say this not disparagingly—I had a lot of fun watching them. Fat Mike of NOFX sometimes complains that punk bands have gotten too good at playing, so this was a good antidote.
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| This girl had a beautiful voice. She'd beat Neil Young himself in a singing contest... but I guess a lot of people would. |
After the Billy Bragg interview I went to Friends, a bar on 6th St., for the Neil Young Rewind party, featuring Berklee College of Music students covering Neil Young songs. Those kids can play, by gum. Incidentally, Neil Young himself was here as a speaker, with Jonathan Demme, promoting their new concert film, Heart of Gold. When I saw the film in New York, I found it unspeakably sedate, and so didn’t attend the panel, but in its defense, almost every other review I’ve read has been positive. Anyway, the Berklee bands played cleanly and well. I heard a lovely version of “Harvest,” and a large crowd stayed until the end of the party.
Next up, Billy Bragg’s show.
Permalink : https://hooksexup.com/Hooksexupblog/sxsw2006blog.aspx?id=101e4010#4010
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An extra pint from the Milkman of Human Kindness
3/18/2006 1:30:00 AM
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| Billy Bragg |
So, the absolute highlight of the day, as predicted, was meeting Billy Bragg. I sat in the front row of the conference room he spoke in; right behind me, this guy said to his friend, “It’s just so incredible to see these legends right here in front of you.” I think he was talking about Chrissie Hynde and Ray Davies, who spoke before and after Billy, respectively, but I agree with the sentiment. In his own humble way I think Billy Bragg might claim legend status.
He spoke stirringly, knowledgably, and at length about the development of his politics: about his father, who fought for England in World War II, and about the despair of the Thatcher years. Having all-but withdrawn from politics following the 2004 elections, I was startled to find myself getting choked up. As he always has in his songs (listen to “Between the Wars”), he had made the political personal. Though his principles aren’t naïve, he maintains a kind of idealism, and made a compelling argument for a patriotism founded on pride in your country’s decency, not its might.
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| Billy Bragg, right in front of me. Awesome. |
I could ramble at length about the man, but, this being Hooksexup, I thought I’d cite particularly a moving story he told when asked about the origins of “Sexuality,” the only song of his that ever made much of a mark in America. He had already discussed the crypto-fascist leanings of the punk movement in the late ‘70s, its connections to the racist National Front. There was a real question of whether punk would be a force for progressiveness or for reactionary belligerence. A young man at the time, Bragg had seen kids with swastikas dancing at Sex Pistols shows. Reggae bands had been attacked with bottles and rocks while playing.
While at a festival called Rock Against Racism, he was watching Tom Robinson sing a song called “Glad to Be Gay,” and realized he was under a huge banner that said “Glad to Be Gay,” and that all the men around him were kissing each other. Embarrassed, he shuffled away, muttering to himself that he thought the show was supposed to be about racism. “Only as I was leaving,” he said, “did I realize it was the same thing, and I later wrote that song to honor those brave gay men who were showing love for each other when that was a very dangerous thing to do.”
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| A thrilling moment, preserved forever, kind of. |
There’s a real warmth and wit to Billy Bragg, and shaking hands with him after his talk was an honor and maybe the high point of this week. Tomorrow I’ll write about his show and the other events of the day, but I just saw a drunk guy run at full speed into the side of a (parked) minivan and I think I’m going to go make sure he’s alive. Latersville.
Permalink : https://hooksexup.com/Hooksexupblog/sxsw2006blog.aspx?id=101e4009#4009
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A brief word on local cuisine
3/17/2006 8:30:00 PM
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| The unofficial state beverage, outside the steak smoothie |
I must single out one great thing about Austin: the proliferation of the breakfast burrito. Everyone loves burritos, right? And everyone likes breakfast. But in New York, never the twain shall meet! Except for like $10 with your slice of cantaloupe. So let me commend the city of Austin for its almost socialistic insistence that breakfast burritos (and breakfast tacos!) should be available to everyone, all the time. Thanks, Austin.
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| Manna from heaven |
On the other hand, I do miss my New York pizza.
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| A touch flatter, if you'd be so kind |
Permalink : https://hooksexup.com/Hooksexupblog/sxsw2006blog.aspx?id=101e4006#4006
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Just call me Kenny Bloggins
3/17/2006 4:00:00 PM
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| Mittens on Strings |
A special note for Mittens on Strings, a lovely alt-country band out of Kentucky (and Illinois, and Texas, and New York, and Indiana—-practicing has been a challenge, I’m told). My friend Josh called and tipped me off to this band featuring his acquaintance Danah on cello. Now, the presence of a cellist in a rock band isn’t the rarest thing in the world anymore, but Danah runs her instrument through reverb and distortion effects that give it an expressive hum and moan. Mixed with jangly guitar and harmonized vocals, it makes for a tasty stew. It was a pleasure to stand close to the stage and watch the different parts interact—-one of the real benefits of small-scale live music.
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| More Mittens on Strings |
Danah and I chatted afterwards and she didn’t even complain that her band had been tucked into a tiny back-alley club with no street address; they’d managed to garner an enthusiastic crowd nonetheless. This might be the character of SXSW though—a stressful free-for-all for the bands, but an embarrassment of riches for the fans.
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| A very exclusive party. Perhaps even too exclusive. |
This profusion of options sometimes works to the detriment of parties as well as bands; witness the party thrown by Blackbook last night. One problem with advertising a party as going from 10 pm to 4 am is that it spreads out your crowd, and that may have been the fate of Blackbook’s fiesta, distinguished by one drunk girl who periodically veered onto the dance floor. While I ordered a beer, a business-looking guy came up, semi-intoxicated and weary. I asked him if he had seen anyone good; mishearing or misinterpreting, he replied, “Ah, there were three of them, but they left... said they had to go back to Barcelona… tha’s bullshit.” Hang in there, buddy.
Today’s roster includes folk-punk luminary Billy Bragg-—I’m thrilled, since I’ve missed seeing him on a few other occasions. Other targets include the Angry Angles, Band of Horses, and Zolar X. See you there!
Permalink : https://hooksexup.com/Hooksexupblog/sxsw2006blog.aspx?id=101e4003#4003
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I could really go for a taco
3/17/2006 12:30:00 PM
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| A light that never goes out. |
Where to begin? Morrissey thoroughly ruled, and the crowd was thrilled. He and his band were extremely clear and warm-sounding, so I suspect you didn’t have to be a fan to get something out of it. As a fan, I’ll admit that when they played “Still Ill” as their second track, I got all verklempt. So did the people next to me.
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| Apparently the world actually will listen. |
Other standouts were “Girlfriend in a Coma” and 2004’s single “Irish Blood, English Heart.” And “You Have Killed Me” came off gloriously. Mozzer, you’re swell.
Yesterday I defended the hipsters peopling this festival as not nearly so elitist as you'd think. I stand by that, but it’s my duty as a journalist (ahem) to report a funny exchange I overheard. One guy mentions the Strokes, and the other guy goes, “Christ, are those guys still around?” Um, yeah. They’re “still around.” In fact, they just released their third album. I mean, we’re not talking about fucking Grand Funk Railroad here.
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| In the street. |
That said, one of the real pleasures of SXSW has been the sheer enthusiasm of its patrons. Indie rock bands tend to have a short shelf-life, respectability-wise; the instant you can’t fit the audience in a bathroom stall, the band’s credibility is over. Here, however, people are just as psyched about the big names as about the little guys. I know, it sounds obvious, but it’s a real reversal of standard indie behavior.
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| I saw the guy in the middle strut (very glam) out of this bar's bathroom, then found about thirty of these fliers therein. Everyone's a rock star. |
Speaking of the little guys, there have been average performances and great performances, but it’s been very pleasurable to see a range of stuff and get a sense of the scene. With 1500 bands, you have to hustle a bit to stand out; some bands are better than others on that score.
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| "I'm the frontman and you're the guitarist with mystique! That's the dynamic we agreed upon!" |
These guys reminded me of the band Jack Black gets kicked out of in School of Rock. Here’s a tip if you’re ever at SXSW: mild show of interest = free stuff. Every time I approach someone to get a picture I immediately get a CD. Unfortunately, in this case, the band wasn’t too interesting—-generic hard rock, though with a nice crunchy guitar sound—-but I have to give them credit. It’s really, really hard to play to a crowd that doesn’t already know you. Generally if you’re really enthused and the person you’re interacting with is really bored, you look like a nincompoop.
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| The loyal fans. |
As a result, if you’re on stage and no one’s reacting, you really don’t want to perform, you just want to shrivel up and die. But it’s the obligation of a band to try to sell themselves, and these guys were doing their best. By the end, they were getting a bit of response. They were just a little too small for their venue. On the other side of the spectrum were the Hidden Cameras, often described as “the gay Belle & Sebastian.” (Read Hooksexup’s interview with the band here.) Without seeing the lyrics, it’s hard to say whether they actually managed to strip Belle & Sebastian of that band’s militant heterocentrism (cough) but I will say they played with a lot more power than Belle & Sebastian, and the crowd reacted in turn. This band may be due to graduate to bigger things.
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| "The gay Belle & Sebastian." Man, I bet they're getting tired of that one. |
More to come.
Permalink : https://hooksexup.com/Hooksexupblog/sxsw2006blog.aspx?id=101e3999#3999
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Sing me to sleep
3/17/2006 4:30:00 AM
I'm tired and I want to go to bed. That said, a very enjoyable night with some great music and interesting conversations. Read all about it tomorrow. Until then, enjoy this picture of a famous pop singer gesticulating. Can you guess who it is?
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| Michael Martin, this one's for you |
Permalink : https://hooksexup.com/Hooksexupblog/sxsw2006blog.aspx?id=101e3993#3993
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Life among the rockers
3/16/2006 8:30:00 PM
When I got on the plane headed to Austin on Tuesday morning, I immediately noticed an unusually high density of tight, ironic t-shirts. This was on Delta, not Irony Airlines, so it had to be SXSW people. Naturally I was preparing a serious of snarky dismissals for the indie-rock populace of the place, but I gotta say, Austin and its people (and visitors) have totally won me over.
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| Walk among us |
The weather has been mixed, but even on the grayer days it’s been warmer than New York-—a lovely change of pace for me. I think the warmth has induced the spread of good vibes. I mean, let’s face it—-no one makes fun of indie kids but other indie kids. No one else even cares. And I’m wearing a tight t-shirt as I write this. What’s been so nice about Austin is that its indie types have forgone the usual infighting. Everyone's as friendly as can be.
There are a few letters in the Austin Chronicle complaining about the commerciality of the festival, but when you have thousands of people in one place, particularly when they all fit a pretty distinct consumer profile, commerciality is inevitable. Though I admit I’m getting tired of receiving the ad postcard shown above (nice try. Trucker hats were officially old in like 2003. It was in fucking Rolling Stone). Complain all you want about indie types, but you probably are one, and for my part, I’d really rather be hanging out with guys in tight ironic t-shirts than, say, Hitler, or cannibals. Or Elvis impersonators. Everything’s relative, y’know.
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| Right back atcha. |
One surprise has been the presence of a small, amiable, indie-metal scene. Does this mean that metal is cool again? I’m not sure that indie (small-scale, mild-mannered) necessarily mixes that naturally with metal (ridiculously huge-scale, theatrically over-the-top). Most of the things that I think are great about metal involve a degree of unselfconsciousness that’s pretty much diametrically opposed to the navel-gazing of indie-rock. That said, the people at SPV’s Heavy Metal Beer-B-Q drew some interesting comparisons, the guys pictured above noting that a similar territorial elitism pervades both scenes. But whatever elitism people feel, it’s not playing itself out here—the metalheads at the bar raved about everyone from Hank Williams III to the Wu-Tang Clan, a fine indication of local enthusiasm.
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| No, YOU guys rock |
Speaking of metal, I caught a display of guitars designed, in tribute to Pantera’s late guitarist Dimebag Darrell, by a bunch of musicians. These were mostly metal types (3/4ths of Metallica, the drummer from Anthrax, the guitarist from Slayer, etc), but also included Kelly Clarkson. More power to her.
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| Kelly Clarkson's Dimebag Darrell tribute guitar |
I dipped into several bars and caught some bands, but will post more on that later. For now, it’s off to the Japan Nite party, followed by Manchester’s favorite mope. Tangentially, I’ve seen more than a few people in Punk Like Me/Carne Asada shirts and hats. That movie’s certainly a contender for the crown of this year’s crossover hit (as Murderball ended up being last year)—-fun for all, and a nice shot from shallow left field for people who use the word “quirky” seriously (OK, that sounds like I’m being mean, but remember, I loved it).
‘Til next time!
Permalink : https://hooksexup.com/Hooksexupblog/sxsw2006blog.aspx?id=101e3989#3989
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It really is a little strange
3/16/2006 5:00:00 PM
I'm worried I'm giving too much detail and not enough scenery. I’ve got two parties lined up for the afternoon, so expect more to come then; for the meantime, let me simply state that I keep thinking I’m seeing Chuck Klosterman. This has happened, like, eight times. Stay tuned.
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| Handsome devil |
Today began with a short film called Viva Morrissey, about Morrissey's difficult-to-explain Latino fanbase in L.A. I’ve been hearing for a few years about a film called Is It Really So Strange? after the Smiths song of the same name, about Morrissey’s Latino fanbase in L.A., and I assumed it was the same one. Not so. In any event, it was a nice piece of work. If I had to hazard an uneducated guess, I might suggest that a culture with pretty narrow specifications for manhood might find an outlet in someone who’s made a career of his defiant outsider status. One girl, affectingly, says that until she heard Morrissey she didn’t realize that other people felt the way she did. Interesting stuff.
My friend A-ron and I used to amuse each other by making up Smiths song titles. The best we had were “Darling, You Must Realize I Hate You” and “I Feel Unwell.” Morrissey’s new single is out, and, well, you can’t beat the man at his own game:
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| Indeed. |
You can watch the video for “You Have Killed Me” here, for now. I like the song—catchy and romantic. Commentators have noted what seems like new happiness on the forthcoming Morrissey album, Ringleader of the Tormentors, and he confirmed this in the interview I went to conducted by Rolling Stone’s David Fricke. Fricke poked a little bit about the cause—“Are there people in your life?”—but Morrissey was characteristically evasive, replying, “Oh, no, no.” Apparently he’s just seeing more beauty in nature. Still, there are serious sexual overtones to this album (“I opened no one and no one opened me/ ‘til you came with the key”), and not with quite the same horror of the old Smiths material.
I could ramble about the man forever, but I will now attempt to corral my Morrissey fandom for the afternoon before I lose you all. A lot of relatively unknown bands coming up: Mittens on Strings, Gogol Bordello, Zolar X, Band of Horses, Times New Viking, Okkervil River, The High Dials, The Bats. Feel free to put in your votes for whither your blogger shouldst go-eth. Until then.
Permalink : https://hooksexup.com/Hooksexupblog/sxsw2006blog.aspx?id=101e3986#3986
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Hand in hand with the electronic renaissance is the way to go
3/16/2006 10:00:00 AM
Well, as promised, your loyal correspondent went to see the New Pornographers and Belle and Sebastian. He is weary, but feels you deserve to be updated.
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| The New Pornographers |
My beloved friend Lindsay played me “Mass Romantic,” the title track of the first New Pornographers album, about four years ago, and ever since then I’ve been meaning to pick the damn thing up and have never gotten around to it. After tonight I might. For some reason I habitually associate the New Pornographers with Rilo Kiley (must be the indie-darlings-fronted-by-red-headed-pretend-girlfriend thing). On record I prefer the Kileys—-a little darker, a little more range. They feel less like a side project.
But live they can be a little shaky, and the New Pornographers most certainly were not. Putting a significant amount of power in their pop, they quickly locked into a practiced groove—-or really, less of a groove and more of a drive. Maybe a little rigid, but a very energetic good time. “Mass Romantic” still rules, I’m happy to report. Gotta check out that album one of these days.
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| The New Pornographers |
Now as for Belle and Sebastian. On the off chance that you’ve never heard these guys—-well, they’re often compared to the Smiths (though Stuart Murdoch, I’m told, disavows this comparison), and with song titles like “Get Me Away From Here, I’m Dying,” it’s easy to see why. They have similar senses of humor and inspire similar adoration (and now that I think about it, those are pretty Smiths-esque album covers). But though they’re much loved by their fans, to me, they’ve always been the Smiths without the sex—-without the desperation and palpable desire that made the Smiths so powerful.
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| Stuart Murdoch - a disarmingly rakish hat, I must admit |
Belle and Sebastian don’t really take emotional risks like the Smiths did. Where that band had a range from ridiculous to utterly heartwrenching, sometimes in the same song (“Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want”), this one can be either wan and funny or wan and mildly glum.
Part of the problem, I’ve realized, is Murdoch’s thin voice—-never actively unpleasant (in fact kind of endearing), but it often leaves the music sounding frail where it should sound full. One track they played, “I’m A Cuckoo,” off of 2003’s Dear Catastrophe Waitress, started with a Thin-Lizzy-worthy harmony guitar lead, but by evoking those hallowed rockers, they set themselves up for trouble, and when Murdoch came in, the vocal distance between him and the late Phil Lynott was distressingly apparent. Even mentioning Lizzy in the chorus didn’t pull it out.
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| Guitarist Stevie Jackson |
All that said, I have two Belle and Sebastian albums, and I enjoy them. I like the band-—I don’t love them the way their followers do, but I like them. On two songs of their set, they made me like them more. One was “Funny Little Frog,” a track from their latest, The Life Pursuit, and an unusually jaunty pleasure.
The other was my favorite of their songs, “Electronic Renaissance,” from their first album, Tigermilk. With a steady dance pulse and a celestial sparkle of vintage synth, “Electronic Renaissance” forgoes the imaginary lost girls of most Belle and Sebastian songs for a spare evocation of a late night out: “Monochrome in the 1990s/You go disco and I’ll go my way.” It has the haze and shimmer of being between bars, half-drunk, in strange cities; it feels like a sensual and real experience instead of the whimsical-storybook-for-precocious-young-adults vibe that Belle and Sebastian often seem to be channeling, and the risk pays off. For a minute I was there with the spellbound crowd.
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| Gotta hand it to them for putting this Napoleon Dynamite extra on the bongos |
I'd be interested in hearing from a Belle and Sebastian fan with a more positive take, cause I do like a lot of their stuff (frustratingly good-but-not-great, maybe). Drop me a line. Until then, it's Morrissey time.
Permalink : https://hooksexup.com/Hooksexupblog/sxsw2006blog.aspx?id=101e3973#3973
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Our band could be your life
3/15/2006 11:00:00 PM
Just attended a screening of a film called Punk Like Me. I ran into an old classmate who said SXSW had secretly screened A Scanner Darkly, the new Richard Linklater-helmed Phillip K. Dick adaptation. Dick’s work has made for some awesome movies in the past (here I am thinking specifically of Blade Runner) but my friend’s reaction was pretty grim. Hmm.
On to Punk Like Me: When I went to the Warped Tour to see NOFX, I was eighteen, and I already felt about four years too old. Imagine how Rich Wilkes felt at thirty-eight. You can find out for yourself in this great little documentary, detailing the semi-triumphant Warped Touring of his hastily assembled “punk mariachi” band, Carne Asada. This film-length equivalent of a three-minute punk spitball is hilarious all the way through. And, like many of the Epitaph and Fat Wreck bands that tend to populate the Warped Tour, it’s smarter and more sweet-natured than the lowest common denominator would require.
Warped serves a third-wave punk-rock crowd sprung not from working-class England but from middle-class suburbia, and Carne Asada certainly fits that mold, more interested in the rock part (good times, beers, girls) than in the punk part (politics, anarchy, violence). The film, too, matches the odd dualism of modern California hardcore—half raw and low-rent, half slickly produced. As such, you could tag it lightweight, and it does go down easy. But it also manages, somehow, to be weirdly stirring, an easy-going reflection on the pursuit of stardom. In its welcoming, low-key way, it’s a fine manifestation of punk’s DIY spirit. The Minutemen once sang “Our band could be your life;” in Punk Like Me, that feels like an invitation.
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| Rich and Amy Wilkes |
Next stop, rock show. I have a handful of thoughts on Belle and Sebastian, but you’ll have to wait to read ‘em. One final note: TOMORROW IS MORRISSEY DAY. If it doesn't have a four-inch pompadour and a pocket full of gladiolas, I ain't writing 'bout it. You have been warned. Goodnight!
Permalink : https://hooksexup.com/Hooksexupblog/sxsw2006blog.aspx?id=101e3967#3967
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All Hands on the Bad One
3/15/2006 4:00:00 PM
Where was I? Ah, yes—walking away from the Alamo South theater. Incidentally, if ever you’re in Austin, don’t miss it. They serve food and drinks (very unobtrusively) throughout the movie. And instead of projecting a bunch of ads for local business while you’re waiting for the thing to start, they show campy vintage shorts. One of which was a 3-minute vampire movie made by 11-year-olds. That is all.
In any event, I had determined to see Sleater-Kinney but knew only that they were on 6th St. My plan to just walk down the street listening for a searing two-guitar onslaught got me nowhere. Now, the last time I saw Sleater-Kinney, I had so much fun that I puked on a cop, so I figured maybe it was for the best and prepared to head home when a dear friend called and bailed me out with a street address.
Next time I will be more painstaking. Let me amend that. Next time I will not miss a single goddamn second of Sleater-Kinney. I know, I know, you’ve heard how great they are a thousand times before, but apparently you aren’t getting the message since I showed up half an hour late and still managed to get within ten feet of the stage. This is not right. In any fair world, I’d have to show up days before to spot this band with binoculars.
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| That's kind of what they sounded like, too. |
Sleater-Kinney’s songs have a fair share of hooks, but the real hook is exclusive to seeing them live, and that’s the interplay between the three band members. Guitars roar and interlock, vocals double, harmonize, and shade. Janet Weiss beats the shit out of those drums, then plays the harmonica line on “Modern Girl,” a beautiful idyll of a track from last year’s The Woods.
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| Mick Rock I ain''t, but that's Carrie Brownstein in action |
The synergy is thrilling and also makes me jealous, since, as an amateur guitarist, I can only imagine how great it might feel to rock that hard. I must reserve a special note for the encore. First they covered “The Promised Land” by Bruce Springsteen. Sweet. Then, just as I’m standing there thinking how the band’s dynamic range would really suit an Iron Maiden cover or two, they kick out Danzig’s semi-classic punk-metal hit “Mother.” Of all things. And it ruled. By the time they segued from the end of that into their own “Call the Doctor,” I was prepared to give up on the rest of SXSW and follow them back to Seattle.
Tonight, the New Pornographers and Belle and Sebastian. I DARE them to rock as hard.
Permalink : https://hooksexup.com/Hooksexupblog/sxsw2006blog.aspx?id=101e3965#3965
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Must’ve taken a wrong turn in Albuquerque
3/15/2006 10:00:00 AM
Greetings from South by Southwest! Your humble reporter flew to Austin (known affectionately as “Texas, but cool”) yesterday morning to report on the 20th incarnation of this beloved indie-stitution.
A little mix-up with my press pass caused me to miss the first of the screenings I planned to go to, Metal: A Headbanger’s Journey. Sorry, rivetheads. But I managed to make it to the next item on the agenda, a horror film called Hard Candy, about a fourteen-year-old girl who turns the tables on a pedophile. It’s effectively done, but since neither character is particularly sympathetic, one isn’t too invested in either’s fate. C’mon, guys. That’s why they call them CARE-acters.
The film has been and will be reviewed elsewhere, so I’ll save my critical breakdown for the audience. Look. Given the subject matter, this thing must have been a bitch to make. And even though it’s well-executed in a lot of ways, I don’t think anyone would call it fun to watch. Except maybe the people who laughed knowingly at a joke about Roman Polanski.
Yet it’s not torture porn like Saw II or Hostel-—again, given the commercial non-viability of the subject matter, it had to be a labor of love. So the obvious question for the director was “What got you interested in telling this story?” And I assumed this would be the first question he’d be asked when he came out after his unpleasant movie. But the first question was, “Who did the sound effects in the castration scene?”
This gem (it was David Lynch’s sound guy, for the record) was followed by “Where did you shoot it?” and “What format is it in?” Oh, and "Who came up with the Roman Polanski joke?" To my mind, this is missing the forest for the trees. What is up with you, film fans? Do you really care more about the film stock than the image it contains?
I'm hard-pressed to explain this, except maybe by suggesting that these mostly young audience members (I believe the group next to me was the cast of a high-school zombie movie) might find it easier to ask glib questions than obvious but significant ones. Once in this college science class we had a visit from an honest-to-God Apollo astronaut, and all people would ask him were things like "What was the food like in space?" Instead of, for example, "What did it feel like, emotionally, to GO TO THE FUCKING MOON?!"
In any case, the subsequent film, loudQUIETloud: A Film About the Pixies, was thoroughly sold out—-as I might well have been smart enough to expect—-so I proceeded to my next stop, a performance by Sleater-Kinney. More on that to come.
One post-script: if any Hooksexup readers are here at the festival and would like to be immortalized here-in, please post. We'll hang.
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