Pitchfork

Thurston Moore Interviews Steve Reich [Austin Convention Center; 1:15 p.m.]





On paper this pairing makes sense; both NYC innovators, Steve Reich and Thurston Moore have also each earned a reputation as everyman figures of sorts, refreshing contrasts to the negative stereotypes that plague their fields: Reich as a no-nonsense, pragmatic journeyman unafraid to stare down the serialists and Schoenberg acolytes and their dominion over academic composition, and Moore as the perennial man-child, curious spirit, and constant innovator amid an indie scene that's too often insular, stubborn, and self-satisfied.

On a stage in a windowless room on a Thursday afternoon, things were, understandably, perhaps a bit stiff. Moore resorted to book-reportage at times (prattling off various facts about Reich from his little black notebook), and there were moments when he seemingly forgot who he was talking to. One such exchange, during a discussion of language, had Moore offhandedly mentioning "Italian prog-rock in the 70s, you know?" and Reich making an amused befuddled gesture toward the audience.

But as Moore loosened up some (Reich, meanwhile, was plainspoken and good-humored throughout), we learned much. There was talk of Reich's inspirations: the poet William Carlos Williams, the great John Coltrane, the jazz drummer Kenny Clarke. Clarke, enthused Reich, inspired the composer not with technical virtuosity but with the "quality" of his playing. "It was as if the whole band was floating on his cymbal."

Reich also marveled over African music and its emphasis on rhythmic complexity, in contrast to the chiefly harmonic concerns of the West, and opined that improvisational playing may not have the meaningful potential it once did (in the Baroque era, say) due to a lack of common practice nowadays.

Plenty of fun trivia too: Four of the organs Reich used to compose and tour the 1970 piece Four Organs now reside in Sonic Youth's studio; Reich rejiggered his mono headphones into stereo headphones before such things existed by plugging each channel into a separate source (Thurston seemed particularly geeked out about this); Reich likes Sonic Youth and specifically Daydream Nation for towing a line between the feedback's improvisational looseness and the structured elements of conventional songwriting.

The most endearing moment by far, however, occurred an hour into the interview when Moore decided to open the floor for Q&A, then promptly interrupted himself by saying "Oh wait, actually I had a question!"

The Brother Kite [Habana Calle 6; 8 p.m.]



With mainstream acts one will explicitly talk about things like marketability-- how easy it is to "sell" the artist in question to an audience-- and the notion certainly applies to the indies just as well. But it even extends in a sense to the level of day-to-day discourse on music. Simply put, some bands are just easier to talk up than others.

I know I like this band, the Brother Kite; I'm impressed with the spirit they put into their performance and amused by how none of them really look like people who would be in a rock band, much less wielding a double neck guitar, as the lead vocalist did here. But I'm sorta at a loss for talking points. They hail from Providence, but they certainly aren't some noise crazies (marketable!) or art-school agitators (marketable!). They draw from elements of each, but don't strictly adhere to either shoegaze (marketable!) or dream pop (marketable!). Their name is kinda silly and weird, but not silly or weird enough.

If somebody happened into this gig (perhaps en route to Habana Calle 6 Patio, which lies just beyond this space), I doubt they'd have much noticed what was happening onstage. Or they may have been thrown off by the hoarse vocals (an unfortunate result of the singer's present fight with the flu). Yet I imagine those to whom this band has endeared itself-- and there was a small but super-enthused gathering of such people here-- went home with plenty to talk about.

Secret Shine [Habana Calle 6; 9 p.m.]





Hey, it's a Sarah Records band at SXSW! Bristol's Secret Shine shared five releases via the quintessential twee imprint in the early 1990s before calling it a day some 10 years ago. Recently reactivated, the quintet has a new full-length (All of the Stars) on the way that sounds not the least bit unlike the unabashed shoegaze they were serving up a decade prior. Not surprisingly, then, Secret Shine were equally at ease showcasing the promising new material and treating the small but eager crowd to a few classics. With the glut of ramshackle, idiosyncrasy-flaunting indie acts popping up all over the damn place, I must admit I find this sort of polished, expansive headspace music refreshing.

Sissy Wish [Wave; 10 p.m.]



It wouldn't be SXSW without a few disasters, and last night, the South-by Specter of Indiscriminate and Unexplained Equipment Failure decided to visit upon poor Sissy Wish of Norway. She and her bandmate looked positively Sissy pissed after struggling for 30 minutes to get one (apparently crucial) gadget working. Failing that-- and with their set time now drastically truncated-- the pair managed to squeak in four songs. Only the relatively pared-down "Milk", however, sounded right, and unfortunately that had to compete with the exasperated admonishments of Scroobius Pip streaming down from upstairs (Wave, it should be noted, should not attempt to host two simultaneous showcases in the future).

Props to Sissy Wish though for her attempts to rile up the crowd by yelling all of her banter-- at one point inviting us to "get naked and drink beer later"-- and for the little conniption fit/shriek-out that capped off the performance, no doubt a release for a whole flaming heap of understandable frustration.

Retribution Gospel Choir [Central Presbyterian Church; 11 p.m.]







Side project is such a dirty word. Okay, two dirty words: Side, suggesting something peripheral to the middle or main or core, and project, evoking a dalliance or something less serious and established than band or group or whatever it exists in relation to. Implicit in all this is inferiority, which in the case of the Alan Sparhawk-led Retribution Gospel Choir, couldn't be more untrue.

Indeed, the best of RGC's songs (showcased on this year's self-titled debut) are on par with Low's recent best (nevermind that several RGC tunes are also Low tunes), and the trio sounded tight and ferocious playing them in these appropriate church confines. To top it all off, Sparhawk sported some shaggy curls, perfectly suited to the rocking out that ensued.

Mark Kozelek [Central Presbyterian Church; 12 a.m.]

Were we granted the opportunity to witness one of the old master painters at work, I suspect there wouldn't be anything overtly masterful going on to our untrained eyes. So it was with Mark Kozelek, a Rembrandt of folky confessionals, whose simplified (but not simplistic) lyrics and songwriting belie a preternatural talent for evocation and the conveyance of unbridled feeling. I am nothing less than awestruck at the grace with which Kozelek plays; listening closely, I swear I often heard a ghost cello sighing amid the finger-picking. As a borderline obsessive fan of the earliest Red House Painters material, I was a mite disappointed none of that made it into the set, but that's a personal qualm and one which I will by no means hold against Mr. Kozelek.

Additional Photos:

My Brightest Diamond [Volume; 12 p.m.]



J. Tillman [Habana Calle 6 Patio; 1:15 a.m.]