Pitchfork

Snowden [EAR Studios; 11 a.m.]

While KEXP invades the U.T. campus, WOXY has been helping Austin engineer James Stevens break in his brand new backyard studio EAR, short for East Austin Recording. The respected Cincinnati-based web radio institution lined up a heap of Lounge Act live sessions with local and festival bands. On Thursday morning they held a session with Atlanta's Snowden. The setup didn't really lend itself to spontaneity, just pitch-perfect renditions of five songs off Snowden's Jade Tree debut, Anti-Anti.









Great Northern / Midnight Movies [Cedar Street Courtyard; 2:30 p.m. / 3:15 p.m.]

Los Angeles takes the cake when it comes to churning out bands who look better than they sound (see also: yesterday's subject, the Ettes). Add Great Northern and their airplane shtick to the bunch. The quartet, conveniently comprised of two very attractive males and two very attractive females, pounded out buoyant pop-ish rock, compelling enough at the time but ultimately forgettable. You mustn't fault someone for physical beauty, of course, but I can't help but think these men and women would fare better modeling one of the fragrances or fashions on the first 18 pages of the latest Rolling Stone than as some "Band 2 Watch" blip on page 98. Really, is modeling so ignoble a profession?

Midnight Movies show considerably more promise (and, let's face it, less commercial viability). Welcoming a new member on drums and flute, the quartet seared through several songs from new LP Lion the Girl, at their best when diversifying their dark, paranoid sound-- as on the psychedelic set closer, where they put the newbie's flute skillz to work (and catwalk-ready vocalist Gena Olivier took over behind the drums).

Les Savy Fav [Speakeasy; 4 p.m.]

Sure, we could talk about The New Songs or The Sound or The Venue or whatever, but at the end of the day, you just want a laundry list of all the crazy shit Tim Harrington did. Without further ado:

-- took to the stage carrying a platter of drinks he had just ordered for himself and the band
-- attempted to pour the spillover from the drink tray into an audience member's mouth
-- wielded the mic stand as a weapon/fifth appendage
-- used his mouth to fountain-spray beer over the crowd
-- lifted and threatened to remove his shirt several times
-- tossed the mic up to the second floor balcony, then ran up there and sang half a song dangling over the edge, with two kids holding his legs
-- returned downstairs with a pillow stuffed under his tie-dyed shirt; claimed he was pregnant (with Spongebob Squarepants) and lactating
-- "birthed" the pillow, snuggled with it, then sent it crowd-surfing
-- spit a bunch of water into a dude's mouth, like some deranged mother bird regurgitating food for its young. Apparently he knew the guy, but still.

Did we mention Tim has a kid? Coolest. Dad. Ever.

Art in Manila [Day Stage Café; 5 p.m.]

Orenda from Azure Ray (R.I.P.?) + Adrienne from the Anniversary (R.I.P.) + a few more kids from the Heartland = Art in Manila, the latest Saddle Creek property. Do they make manic Moog-pop like the first Anniversary album? Hells no. 70s AOR like the second? Not really. Wispy, elegant balladry à la Azure Ray? Getting warmer. Countrypolitan folk-ish pop? Ding ding ding! Toss in some slight anthemic tendencies, and we've got a winner.

Land of Talk [Day Stage Café; 5:30 p.m.]

This Montreal trio has been the, ahem, talk of the land (read: internet) for a little while now, and I suppose I can understand that. They do things you really want your favorite band to do, like actually look at one another when they play, and smile, and even, get this, move closer to one another during instrumental portions of their songs. Those songs, too, have some welcome qualities. A bit of snarl, a bit of punch, a bit of complexity, like a riled up Rilo Kiley. Still, nothing they played at this short Day Stage set really leapt from the stage and smacked me upside the head with the Great Indie Song stick. Let's wait for the full-length, shall we?






Shearwater [Central Presbyterian Church; 7:30 p.m.]

Shearwater sounded positively triumphant at the Austin quartet's first SXSW showcase since signing to Matador Records. New tune "The Snow Leopard", which centered around Jonathan Meiburg on the church's grand piano, rang out with a majesty rivaling Sufjan. Another new number, loud and quick, demonstrated the band's considerable craft with pacing and volume, here blessed with an ideal holy setting and a reverentially quiet and attentive congregation.

"It has truly been a pleasure to play for you," to paraphrase Jonathan Meiburg's parting words toward the end of this performance. "That's not something you often hear after a SXSW set." Naturally, they closed the church set with Palo Santo standout "Hail, Mary".

Marit Bergman [Uncle Flirty's Loft; 8 p.m.]

This one took me completely by surprise. Bergman gained a morsel of notoriety late last year when her blasé cover of "My Love" surfaced on a few blogs. Well, this had absolutely nothing to do with that. Instead, picture eight ecstatic Swedes just going to town like their government is paying them to do so or something (chuckle chuckle). We're talking Arcade Fire levels of ebullience here, people, from an Arcade Fire-size ensemble (with a tall dude who even looked a tad like Win), applied to very straightforward, showtunes-derived pop anthems.

Bergman's bio might mention X-Ray Spex and Sonic Youth as influences, but forget that racket-- this was [soundbyte alert] Bette Midler and the Arcade Fire doing Grease.

And apparently it's made Bergman a chart-topper in her native Sweden. Down here in Texas it came across, well, campy. But Bergman poured her heart into this set, even rushing out into the audience after the last song to shake the hand of every single person in the front row. Give this gal the blue ribbon and the U.S. major label deal already, sheesh. Or at least let her open for Scissor Sisters.

Kate Havnevik [Exodus; 9 p.m.]

Something tells me this ain't the Kate that Ben Folds guy was singing about. I chanced into Havnevik's set after Frida Hyvönen's was bumped an hour later (with Marit Bergman and her female keyboardist singing backup, no less). Havnevik hails from England by way of Norway, and she's pretty much destined to record the season finale song to the next "O.C."-like television sensation. (Seems she's already made it onto "Grey's Anatomy".) Live, however, Kate might need to tone it down a notch. She's got a good hand of melodramatic pop songs and a few moments of crystaline beauty, but she frequently oversold them here, smiling so goddamn wide I thought I was watching Soundgarden's "Black Hole Sun" video.




Marissa Nadler [Bourbon Rocks; 10 p.m.]

Winner of this year's Cat Power (pre-Greatest) award, a frustrated Nadler cut this set woefully short after feedback marred the mood and reverb levels weren't raised to her satisfaction. Incomplete versions of about four songs (including "Thinking of You" and "Daisy and Violet"), a couple profuse apologies, and that was that. 'Twas a damn pity, too, given the glimmers of songwriting magic that poked through a couple times when everything was working.

Still, rolling with the punches is what makes you an SXSW champ. How cool would it have been if, say, Marissa invited everyone who truly wanted to see her into a corner of the club for an unplugged, mic-free set?

Moi Caprice [Uncle Flirty's Loft; 11 p.m.]

Back at Nordic Night at Uncle Flirty's Loft (a great place for the whole family, I'm sure), Moi Caprice were further proving that the measure of a man in Denmark is a really terrible haircut. According to some people on the internet, they're a cooler band to like than fellow Danes Mew-- a claim that makes a fair deal of sense, as they counter the childlike wonder of Mew with what amounts to teenage romanticism. Observe: Moi Caprice's first song of the evening was called "The Art of Kissing Properly", and another's lyrics spoke of running away to Paris or some other such fancifulness. MC's singer was also quite fond of holding his palms together while singing, as though praying. Maybe because he Really Means It when he sings. Or something. Anyway, teenage emotions suck. I'd sooner take childlike wonder any day.






Jesu [Emo's Annex; 11:30 p.m.]

Joy of man's desiring? Try anguished effigy of man's most profound suffering. Justin Broadrick takes his own inner pain, see, and makes it manifest-- in your earlobes. Now that's what I call a miracle! Justin's a gaunt chap, with a bit of a crook in his neck (from lots and lots of intense headbanging, one infers), and he and his bassist and drummer probably had all the seismographs in the vicinity picking up traces of their mammoth thunder. Props to Justin for playing tunes from across the Jesu catalogue-- including "We All Falter", "Silver", and "Transfigure"-- before declaring, "I fucking feel like I'm going to collapse." Us too, dude. Us too.


Vashti Bunyan [Central Presbyterian Church; 12:30 a.m.]

The evening came full circle back at Central Presbyterian, where Vashti Bunyan and her band weaving a silken web of song at the crypt-silent Central Presbyterian Church. It's a remarkable thing what Vashti does, and combined with her ethereal vocals, her songs seem to transcend the instruments on which they're played. Only a few hiccups here and there kept this whole performance from drifting off into the ether.