SXSW Diary: Days Three and Four

SXSW does this kind of thing to you. It makes you shirk responsibilities and forget about the outside world. Deadlines? Debt? Domestic disputes? Fuck it all, Art Brut's playing in a tiny tent in a parking lot!

Photo: Hot Chip at the Pitchfork/Windish Agency party

Photo: Patton Oswalt and Aziz Ansari at the Pitchfork/Windish Agency party

Of course the Pitchfork/Windish Agency bash at Emo's Annex on Friday was the greatest day party in the history of day parties. Death Vessel and José González eased into the festivities with lovely, laidback solo acoustic sets, yielding the stage to the sleek dance grooves of the Juan Maclean and Ladytron DJ sets. Hot Chip and Spank Rock amped up the energy level, Matthew Dear made us all feel like cosmopolitan jet-setters, Love Is All rocked with giddy enthusiasm, and Rjd2 spun some guilty pleasures. Finally, Art Brut brought it all home with a joyous set that reminded us of why we fell in love with them in the first place.

In between acts, host Patton Oswalt made fun of hipsters, birthdays, George Lucas, 80s metal bands, the Emo's roadies, and, of course, Pitchfork. We love him.

Photo: My Chemical Romance

Yes, I saw My Chemical Romance at SXSW. No, I'm not going to apologize. It was fucking awesome.

The pop-punk superstars played a short set at the Shirts for a Cure breast cancer benefit on Friday evening at Emo's (yes, yes, emo at Emo's, very funny, haha). Shockingly, the place wasn't even at capacity; I guess everybody at SXSW is too cool for this band. But not the adorable teenagers in eyeliner and Hellogoodbye t-shirts moshing around me as MCR ripped through "I'm Not OK", "Helena", and a bunch of other songs I don't know the names of because I'm a total poseur. Watching those little girls running up on stage to give Gerard Way a kiss, and then diving back into the maelstrom, I almost wished I was still that young and that in love with the idea of rock stardom. Almost.

Photo: Brakes

Brakes should be the next Art Brut. A British Sea Power/Electric Soft Parade side project that's better than both of those bands combined, Brakes play obnoxious punk songs that take the piss out of drunks, scenesters, and people with long attention spans. At the BBC 6 showcase at Blender Bar Friday night, they assaulted an audience waiting for KT Tunstall and Editors with a brief but brutal set. Frontman Eamon Hamilton shouted with such ferocity it looked like his brain was going to explode out of his bald spot.

I encountered my only SXSW entrance drama later that night at the Red Eyed Fly, where way too many people were attempting to see Band of Horses. Thanks to the fine folks at Sub Pop, I was finally able to make it in, and it was worth it. The band was loose and shaggy, grinning their way through the wide expanses of their epic songs. Although it was cool to see them play in a tiny club, those loping riffs and Ben Bridwell's piercing voice are meant for cavernous spaces. I can't wait to see them play in, like, a canyon.

Saturday morning, I woke up super early (ok, 10 a.m.) to participate in the "Blogs Gone Wild" SXSW panel at the convention center. Nobody got obscenely drunk or took his/her top off for a video camera, but we did talk about the ethics, problems, benefits, and future of blogging. It was interesting if you're into that kind of thing.

I spent most of the afternoon at the Fader Lounge, taking in performances by Lavender Diamond (creepy and good), Devin the Dude (stoned and good), Kyp Malone of TV on the Radio (boring and bad), Lupe Fiasco (nerdy and good), Love Is All (happy and good), and, at last, Ghostface Killah (genius, crazy, animated, horny, excited, crowd-pleasing, and good).

After a quick stop to check out the kooky but disappointing Mystery Jets at Maggie Mae's, I closed out my SXSW experience with Sway at Caribbean Lights. He's a thrilling British rapper with lightning flow and self-deprecating humor; hopefully, he'll follow in the footsteps of Dizzee rather than Kano in terms of Stateside success. Although the sound mix at Caribbean Lights was complete crap, Sway still came across as funny and charismatic. He lead the crowd in a call-and-response chant of "The pound is stronger than the dollar!" "Holla!", and none of us cared that it was a total diss.

And so that was South by Southwest 2006. Exhausting, chaotic, overwhelming, challenging, sometimes frustrating. But mostly the best fun in the world.

South by Southwest: http://2006.sxsw.com/