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The Rosebuds [Club DeVille; 3:30 p.m.]










The Rosebuds were never my cup of tea-- at least, not until the promo for their third LP, Night of the Furies, rolled into our office, its exquisite, studio-polished, Reagan-era pop sheen tapping a serious vein in this child of the 80s. Night even has lead vocalist Ivan Howard sounding an awful lot like another dude with two first names: George Michael. So have the Rosebuds lost their Southern charm and mischievous tendencies? Not in the slightest.

Here they had a ball translating Nights' careless whispers into fun, lively, spontaneous pop bliss. Howard also lets fly some World Cup-caliber kicks when he gets excited, and he got so excited at this gig he fell hard on his rosebud twice. After removing the culprit-- slippery shoes-- Howard exclaimed, "I've been in this band for six years and I've never busted my ass like that." All smiles all the while, Howard then invited a bunch of revelers onstage to dance a drunken jig to a set-closing, barn-burner of a take on Night's title track and finest moment.

The Polyphonic Spree [Club DeVille; 5 p.m.]

Change is afoot for the Polyphonic Spree. The first and most obvious is sartorial, of course-- gone are the pillowy white robes of yore and the rainbow gowns, replaced with good times gestapo getup. A dramatic visual shift, it was accompanied by a musical shift as well, although not nearly as dramatic. The Spree still bring orgasms of blissed-out symphonic noise, but this time imbued with some serious forward motion.

An army-- even a fragile one-- is about action, after all, while a chorus is-- let's admit-- all talk. And appropriately this show was less sedentary sun-worship (although they did play a slowed-down version of "Section 2 (It's the Sun)") and more a momentum-fueled call to arms. Less grace and shimmer, a little more chaos and danger. And oh yes-- still positively exhilarating to behold.

One Umbrella [Central Presbyterian Church; 9:15 p.m.]






For an experimental/ambient/drone-type thing, this was fairly entertaining. Austinite One Umbrella lurked in a semicircle of keyboards, laptops, percussion instruments, and assorted noisemakers with a glint of fury in his eye, hungry to pounce on this knob or that key at any moment. The result was fairly compelling, but most of the gathered-- who were waiting for the next act, one Tom Morello-- weren't having it.

I thought it was pretty cool of One Umbrella to incorporate a sample of a baby crying into his apocalyptic mix, but nope, that was a real baby, with a real mom who had a bunch of tattoos, just a few rows back. Parental advisory: explicit noise, dudes!

Palomar [Habana Calle 6 Patio; 11 p.m.]






Palomar might be the last SXSW band I go home raving about-- OMG you'll never believe what those crazy ladies in Palomar did-- but they're probably the first band I'd hang out with. Vocalist Rachel Warren has a deliciously dry sense of humor and a droll one-liner for every occasion, and the vibe here fell somewhere between chilled-out local show and rehearsal-- this was a band of friends playing for friends. Plus they broke out a rousing rendition of "Up!", which is just a damn fine indie pop tune and a selection on many a Solarski mixtape.

Au Revoir Simone [Copa; 12 a.m.]




Pretty prancey lullabies were easily the last thing I needed after taking the S.S. SXSW for the last 55-odd hours on nary a night's worth of sleep, but give the ladies of Au Revoir Simone credit for injecting visual energy into their soporific (in a good way, mostly) synth jams. The bespectacled one on the right attacked her keyboards like she was pounding out the Phantom of the Opera theme while doing intense step aerobics, while the be-bangs'd one in the middle did a few cutesy gerbil jumps. Even the one on the left, with the big, sad eyes, brought along a drumstick that she used to tap the presets on the drum machine. Adorable.